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Underground > Creation >

What I did on My Holiday

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Eloi Tsabaoth

10:45 / 05.02.02

Then... nah, sod it.

Matthew Fluxington

10:46 / 05.02.02

I lost my balance, fell to the ground, and could not muster the will or the strength to pick myself up.

Ethan Hawke

11:06 / 05.02.02

For a moment after I emptied my bladder, I felt warm and comforted, like I was floating in amnitioic fluid, but alas, soon I found myself just lying in a cold, dank puddle.

The Natural Way

11:07 / 05.02.02

"Marry me!"

"Marry me!"

"Marry me!"

Barked the whimpering fuckpig, its hindquarters raised.

Ethan Hawke

11:22 / 05.02.02

I couldn't even muster the strength to smack the blithering idiot who walked by shouting misogynistic non sequiturs.

lentil

11:25 / 05.02.02

Such a sight would have aroused my most avid interest were I not (as had just occurred to me) under the inactivity- inducing influence of my narcoleptic nemesis, Methadone Man.

The Natural Way

11:30 / 05.02.02

But, confusingly, the pig was a plant...

What a day!

I then passed out.

New rule!!! Each of the next ten posts must be written in a way which is at once pseudo-goth, angsty teen poetry, and a little bit hippy lovey-dovey.

Sauron

11:49 / 05.02.02

I dreamed about,
Marylin,
He Killed me:
I hate you all.

Ethan Hawke

12:01 / 05.02.02

Coming down, Sadie I love it; you were right, I was on the wrong track.

grant

12:44 / 05.02.02

Warm and comforted, I felt like I was floating, but alas, I was just lying in a puddle.

rizla mission

13:04 / 05.02.02

Ignored, stepped in, clarity clouded with mud - I felt companionship with the puddle.

Less searchable M0rd4nt

15:50 / 05.02.02

Yes, the puddle!- for in its muddiness it was as opaque as I felt myself to be, my emotions beyond the understanding of the common herd; in its gnawing coldness it was as cold as the night wind that swept my barren soul; in its transience, for it must soon be splashed away by a careless foot, or obliterated by merciless evaporation, even as I must be obliterated by an uncaring world!

Ethan Hawke

16:16 / 05.02.02

But I care for this misbegotten world, and all the cruel dark and ignorant people in it, and though it pains me like the jabs of a thousand tiny slivers of glass, I must keep on truckin'.

Less searchable M0rd4nt

22:18 / 05.02.02

Yes, truckin', for my whole being was now a juggernaut of forlorn hope and thwarted desire, a long vehicle with a broken tachyograph on an endless, pointless journey, its suspension groaning under a freight of loss and regret which grew every day as it rolled on through nameless towns, a load piled on by the hands of the blank and doughlike masses who will always be oblivious- oblivious!- to the truck's weight restrictions.

[ 06-02-2002: Message edited by: Mordant C@rnival ]

lentil

07:44 / 06.02.02

Weight restriction! hah! If only my disgusting, fat, lumpen body had a weight restriction, I wouldn't have to punish myself to drive away the ennui.

We're The Great Old Ones Now

10:52 / 06.02.02

Enter Udo Kier, Bobcat Goldthwaite and Peter Lorre, laughing; upon seeing the audience, they stop, and immediately conspire.

Billy Corgan

11:23 / 06.02.02

And in Bobcat's crystal eyes
is the fire that he despise
the flame of love eternal

Matthew Fluxington

11:25 / 06.02.02

****new rule for the next ten posts - all posts must be in rhyme!***

deja_vroom

12:03 / 06.02.02

"THE BUNS, THE BUNS, ALL OVER THE PLACE!"
Shouted Mr. Codhead w/ a smile in his face.
So I ran and I hid right behind the Sun,
Where I found Mrs. Spider devouring her young.

Whisky Priestess

12:13 / 06.02.02

I fear that I have lost the plot:
whoever has it, I have not.
Perhaps we ought to start again
with something simple, short and plain
Like "So I stepped aboard the train" . . .

rizla mission

13:15 / 06.02.02

What could it have been that made my world play the fool?
not drugs, for that would go against Sav's third rule
could it be simply that I'm ill in the head?
cos of this rhyming bollocks, up I am fed!

We're The Great Old Ones Now

13:30 / 06.02.02

This topic's task it is to seek the face that reason shrouds in play,
To tell the story,
Richly flawed,
A diamond in an applecore,
And bring night's mystery to the day -

So to continue: From the truck's embrace I stepped
Aboard a southbound train;
An Achilles to the task I leaped,
Who suffered from a sickness of the brain,
Which divil in me deep it slept,
The morning's promise of tomorrow's pain.

grant

15:58 / 06.02.02

And along endless tracks, black
facets of night whispered, twisting
memories of what came before more
lucidly into facts, backlit
by the blurring race of time; by myself
the trip was hard, but there was another,
a long lost brother,
whose flashlight pointed up the road yet to come, and in sum,
he sat beside me.

Kitten Caboodle

07:36 / 07.02.02

"Brother" said I "Whence have you come?
I thought that thou wert no longer at home
To visitors from this pale mortal coil
Being dead and all. What happened then to spoil
Your everlasting rest? Some urgent quest
That tore you from your quiet grave, to test
Your mettle and my own against the rest?
(No matter you've a bullet in your chest)
Some mission requiring just the very best
The brothers reunited to arrest
The dastardliest villain in the West,
Is that it?" The ghost cleared his throat. "Well, yes."

Ethan Hawke

13:52 / 07.02.02

"I crossed the wide ocean
on a boat with no name
whose Captain all things Godly
did abjure and profane
and cursed me with this task
of which I now speak:
I must hunt and destroy
a victim quite unique."

We're The Great Old Ones Now

21:52 / 08.02.02

*** New rule: all entries must be written in the style of Hunter S. Thompson until further notice. ***

uncle retrospective

11:06 / 09.02.02

"Whats? going on here?" I muttered to the contorting RSPCA officer. Before he could speak, I looked him straight in the eye and said....
"It's all Nixons fault."

rizla mission

10:38 / 11.02.02

It was all going downhill fast -
what little stability my waterhead fuckaround of a visit to the garden centre might once have boasted was long gone - wiping the frenzy from my eyes, I mounted my scooter (and, I ask you, what was I doing with a scooter when I could have been burning through the Essex countryside on a fucking Vincent Blackshadow), coughed up a lump of bile and hit the motherlovin' road!

(man .. that's one hell of a sentence.)

grant

14:42 / 12.02.02

There is really only one law of the highway left in America (and possibly the world); the brutal Darwinian reality that you either fuck or get fucked - and in such world, only the fucked up survive.

Ethan Hawke

15:04 / 12.02.02

Retraction; Only those that can live with and beside the Fear, and even embrace it as they would their knuckle-dragging, Ether-huffing Neandrathal brother, can tumble out of the way of the full-bore 1965 El Dorado bearing down on you with the Freight of a Ton of Unnecesary and distracting Capital Letters that is the Fate of those who wander the lonesome Highway.

gridley

19:18 / 12.02.02

Fortunately, earlier that day my lawyer had provided me with a german luger and sixty-five brownish-yellow pills that had the singular ability to drain away every human emotion except anger and nostalgia.

[ 12-02-2002: Message edited by: gridley ]

QUINT

09:03 / 13.02.02

The disadvantage was that the little fuckers were weaker than a Central American economy, tiny pinpricks amid the twin erections of my ennui and dissatisfaction; they only achieved any kind of staying power through the judicious application of a whole herd via the nether sphincter, an operation I was unwilling to countenance without the presence of a well-oiled Hollywood bratpack for emergency fellatio.

rizla mission

13:16 / 13.02.02

Just then, my high-speed reverie was interrupted by some shit-eating dunderhead driving a truck into my face.

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