Empty Threats and Epaulettes

Harley Quinn
June 9, 2010, 6:49 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


Twilight Sucks
January 3, 2010, 9:09 pm
Filed under: 1

Whereas the movies may be tolerable yet mediocre affairs, the twilight books are in fact, mind numbingly dull, poorly written and over described with a pathetic protagonist as well as a frustrating and uninteresting love interest. They are far from classics and do not even come close to warranting the furore that surrounds them… Kristen Stewart would get fucked standardly though… at least in ‘Adventureland’.

November 27, 2009, 4:59 pm
Filed under: Random.

Endless Possibilities. Endless Courage. Endless Pain. Endless Joy. Endless Misgivings. Endless Mistakes. Endless Regrets. Endless Hope. Endless Power. Endless Hunger. Endless Pleasure. Endless Fear. Endless Caution. Endless Disdain. Endless Retribution. Endless Anger. Endless Dreams. Endless Tears. Endless Visions. Endless Beauty. Endless Protection. Endless Falling. Endless Love. Endless Heartbreak. Endless Vengeance. Endless Clarity. Endless Knowledge. Endless Purity. Endless Disdain. Endless Sleep. Endless Machinations. Endless Schemes. Endless Deception. Endless Pleasure. Endless Life. Endless Emptiness. Endless Visions. Endless Voices. Endless Screaming. Endless Darkness. Endless Longing. Endless Passion. Endless Warnings. Endless Struggles. Endless Confusion. Endless Innocence. Endless Corruption. Endless Irony. Endless Faith. Endless Suffocation. Endless Sacrifice. Endless Mercy. Endless Discouragement. Endless Determination. Endless Battles. Endless Disgust.


The Gardener
November 27, 2009, 2:28 pm
Filed under: Writing.

The creatures wandered through the forrest, cold and hungry. Slowly they grew ravenous, desperate to quench the thirst, tearing and ripping flesh from one another. We watched them gleefully. Slipping in and out of our translucent dreamscapes we never had a chance. We don’t look back once. We step forward into the abyss and fall. It feels like were falling forever. Flailing and flapping freely through the emptiness. It closes in around us and we can’t stop it. The forrest seems so far away now. The sight of it vanishing into the distance brings painful relief, we are alone now.

The doctors look down upon us, disgust in their eyes, blackness in their hearts, pleasure dripping from their moist lips. Feverish and frightened they scream, out and in, as loud as their insignificance will allow. Scalpels and forceps become the instruments of this merry quintet. How unusual for them to be so forthright with their desire.

The children now unaware are dawdling. No direction, they don’t want to grow up, don’t know how. The demons hoping to infect drool at the thought. Thin brittle vessels they wrap themselves around them. Endless as they are, they become entwined. The gardener didn’t foresee this forfeit in his forecast unfortunately. But I did.

Malice – Part 9: Scum
October 19, 2009, 12:44 am
Filed under: Writing.


Not long after he had returned.

“So?” I enquired.

“Yeah no you don’t have a chance.”

With that we started for the exit, but not before Lucas had bought a copy of the magazine.

“What are you gonna do with that?” I had my suspicions when I asked the question.

“Well you see mate, the magic of her being a cover girl is that it doesn’t matter what kinda crazy shit she did to you, you still get to see her tits,” he chuckled excitedly at the thought. “Seriously, She may have ignored me when I tried to speak to her, but fuck if she ain’t still gonna help me get my jollies.”

He reinforced his point by licking Malice’s digitally enhanced face. At which point I began to distance myself from him, in the hopes of not being associated with the magazine licker.

Chapter 2: Hubris

“So when’s Jack coming?”

“Jack who?”

“Handsome Jack.”

“His name’s not actually Jack you know, it’s Bailey.”

“Isn’t that a bit of a girly name?”

“I dunno, maybe. At least it is a name.”


“I know.”

“Why do people call him Handsome Jack then?”

“Not sure. Irony maybe.”


“I know.”

“Well who came up with it?”

“He did.”

“He made up his own nick name and people actually used it.”

“You’ve obviously never been to an inner city comprehensive.”


“Forget it. Um, I think it’s something to do with pirates. That and he’s kind of a lady killer… somehow.”

“Wow really?”

“Yeah totally, like sure he doesn’t go for the most morally upstanding girls, but they tend to be super attractive, and he gets them to do whatever he wants.”


“If I knew, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you.”


“I know.”


Love and I were a few feet from the station when my phone rang.


For a few seconds there was no response. As I looked at the screen to check if it was connected a voice cracked out of the speaker.

“Mate, it’s me Seb. What you up to tonight?”

“I’m sorry who? I don’t know any Seb?” I did.

“Fuck you man, what are you doing tonight?”

“Wow, abuse. I don’t even know you and your telling me to fuck off? That’s not very nice.”

“You know who it is.”

“Well it’s true you sound familiar, but Seb… No Seb doesn’t ring any bells. Sorry.”

“I’m not gonna say it.”

“I think you might.”

“… No.”


“There’s a rave tonight, shit area, some hoodrat dealy, but we can get in for free so might be worth it. Call me if you wanna come. Now go fuck yourself.”

He hung up immediately. During the call Love had figured out who was on the other end of the line.


“Haha yeah.”

Kebab was what we called our good friend Seb. Now when you hear the name Seb, most people would assume it was short for Sebastian, which is exactly why Kebab is reluctant to extend his name past the first three letters when introducing himself. It’s his attempt to come across as the rakish intellect that the name Sebastian implies. As opposed to the awkward, freakishly tall Seblan who always manages to smell like a Kebab shop.

“That was mean.” She didn’t appear too convinced by her own words, considering the smile on her face.

“Yeah well he’ll get over it.”

“What did he say?”

“Um there’s a rave. And were going?”

“No way, really?”

Her surprise at my decision might seem unwarranted, but I should explain, I’m not the biggest fan of raves. For the past year I had been effectively boycotting them. At least the terribly ghetto ones I had been attending at the time. Ones where your pretty much just asking to get stabbed. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the music, it’s more the people. The horrible, tiresome, drunk, drugged up shits. Too many rudeboys.

The dregs of society lurking in hard to reach places, trying to grab girls in harder to reach places.

Feckless, walking stereotypes who’d threaten to run you through with their mother’s kitchen knife, after failing to be impressed by their winning charms, if not for their inability to decipher basic human language. Disease ridden ejaculate receptacles too, half of them startlingly unaware of any kind of etiquette, stuck in socially blind competitions over who’s had more abortions of potential functioning members of society, fathered by abusive boy’s claiming to be men.

Base, juvenile, ignorant despair inducing scum.

I can just about deal with sharing a city with them. But if I’m forced to endure hours surrounded by hundred’s of them; sweating, screaming, (OD’ing for all I care), then I find it very difficult not to consider murder.

Love knew and shared my thoughts on raves. And so it’s understandable that she was a tad taken aback by my attitude.

“Yes.” I said.

“Why?” She was clearly perplexed.



Malice – Part 7: Romance
October 7, 2009, 3:29 pm
Filed under: 1, Writing.


It’s a curious sensation, not being able to speak, knowing that you’re fully capable of performing such an action. In most stories you might read, this would be the point where the protagonist, when faced with a female whom he finds attractive, is lost for words. A length of time might pass, he might perceive it to be longer than it is, and he might be willing every fibre in his body to… well so on and so forth. I’m sure you can guess the rest. That’s not what happened to me, because in the real world people do not inexplicably lose the will to speak, unless faced with something highly traumatic. I did not feel too traumatized right now so my tongue was in full working order. The problem with this is that in the real world, the opposite occurs. People don’t say nothing, rather they say too much, or they say something spectacularly inappropriate that results in them coming across as a complete fuckwit or an escaped mental patient. The escaped ones being the worst, seeing as it takes a certain level of cunning to escape from anywhere your not allowed to leave, and lets face it, a clever nutter is much more unsettling than a regular one.

So in this story there was no lack of words. I did not freeze. I wasn’t dumbstruck. Although, looking back that probably would have been far less destructive.

“Um, yeah. I… uh, I want to touch you, I mean I want you. Wait, no, I want to know you. I’m stunned, no your stunning, absoluetely stunning, and I saw you and I wanted to touch you cos’ you look so soft, but your so much older and I know I have know chance but he said that you looked like you were up for it, and it’s true you do look like your aware of how attractive you are, I definitely shouldn’t have mentioned that I thought you looked up for it, I realize that, but we were drawn to you, or at least I was, I mean I didn’t mean to follow you it just kinda happened, not that it was a creepy thing, like we just saw you, it’s not stalking, you can’t stalk someone you don’t know, and I just thought that so what if I find you attractive, whether you want it or not what’s wrong with that, it’s a natural thing, why can’t I just say it, why do we have to go through the whole small talk, flirting, actual introductions thing, if I want to tell you I’m attracted to you is that such a crime, society tells me I can’t do that, that it’s inappropriate but why? I mean who said that’s how it worked, I’m sure cavemen didn’t worry about courting , they just hit their desired mate over the head with a rock and when she woke up she’d be pregnant or something along those lines, but I’m not gonna hit you I didn’t mean that, more practical than rapey, like I’m sure if rohypnol was around back then they wouldn’t need the rocks and there would be a lot less fractured craniums, basically what I’m sayin’ is I’m a man, you’re a woman, why can’t I just hit you over the head with a rock and say hey I think your hot… metaphorically speaking of course.”

She did not say anything. Lucas took the opportunity to venture his own opinion.

“Shit that was tragic,” he whispered by my ear, ”I love it, you managed to work in stalking, date rape and wife battery into your opening line,” The grin on his face could not have been wider, “Genius.”

She looked at Lucas, then back at me, eventually glancing around uncomfortably.

“Okay, well I’m going to go now.” She said this in a timid tone, unlike the one she had previously spoken in. I had actually frightened her. But how could this be? Had the countless mediocre Rom-com’s taught me wrong? Surely the only response to a painfully honest and disjointed outburst is an extravagant kiss to demonstrate the reciprocation of said feelings. Unfortunately not. There would be no cheering crowd, no slow fade, no cut to a wedding scene 2 months later. Just a distressed young woman and her verbal assailant.

She smiled an awkward smile, placed the book back on the shelf and turned to leave. The silence was broken by one pair of hands clapping, Lucas’ slow, humiliating applause could be heard from over my shoulder.

“Must you?” I said turning to face him.

“Absolutely my friend, that was a hell of a performance.”

“God, it was horrible.”

“Yes. Yes it was. But it’s not over yet.”

“Sorry?” I looked at him confused.

“She looked back.”


“So, that means you still have a chance”

“I doubt that very much”

“Wanna bet?” With this Lucas once again took off in the direction of the girl.


September 22, 2009, 9:45 pm
Filed under: Drawings