The Viking Hoard

Fridays are lazy days. I do not feel like coming to office on fridays.
But the promise of saturday is great and that makes me come. BUT,
pardon my ramblings, i wanted to tell you all about the viking hoard i
met the other day. It was another friday eve,maybe it was last
week,maybe not,but i clearly remember it to be friday. I had just
walked out of the liquor store with a bottle of vodka in my bag. As i
sat on my bike something sharp poked me in the back of my neck. I
turned around and i saw this huge demonic man with a bear's skull on
his head poking my back with a steel spear. wtf? i thought, i'm not
sharing my vodka with some weird dude who has a spear. I thumbed the
ignition of bike, slammed it in gear and sped off from there. The
spear swooshed through my jacket. Then the hoard came on my tail. The
hooves of their horses shook the ground and their shouts filled the
sky. I thought fuckin nice. But well, my bike had a full tank and
there was a bottle of vodka in my bag. Plus, my bike had a headlight,
their horses didn't.
Eat my bike's exhaust smoke fuckers!

-----
i can't figure out what is wrong with the net. Technical help is fukd
up too. So,till we figure out the problem:) suffer!!

--
Short Stories >[ www.fubar69.blogspot.com]
Poetry > [www.fubarpoems.blogspot.com]

"Whatever it is, I'm against it"

Dragon Fodder

I saw this dragon on my way back from office. He had stopped at a
traffic light waiting for it to turn green. I switched off my bike and
knocked on his claw that rested beside my leg. Dude i said, you got
wings man,why are you at this light?fly away. He looked down at me
with scorn in his eyes and whispered in a dragon-ish voice- I'm not a
dude.
oh-said I. Sorry miss, my bad.
She accentuated her displeasure at being called a man by chomping off
the head of a biker on the other side. Luckily, the light turned green
and before the dragon could turn back at me i was off like a bat out
of hell.

Some days.

--
Short Stories >[ www.fubar69.blogspot.com]
Poetry > [www.fubarpoems.blogspot.com]

"Whatever it is, I'm against it"

i had a dream last night

Now, before i begin, please forgive my lack of proper editing and
grammar rules of sentence structure in this post. It is tough to type
from a cell phone and take care of grammar, though i suggest you try
it once, its fun.

So,about the dream.
This was the kind of dream that clutches your brain in its wispy
fingers,digging deep inside,it disappears from your local eye but at
the same time it stays.It stays somewhere deep inside your head. This
was one such dream. This was the dream of a book. A book that screamed
into my face, a book that ripped at my laziness with pages made of
steel and words like barbs on a steel wire. A book that threatened to
fuck my soul to shreads if it didn't get what it wanted.

This book wants to be written. This book has more desire to be written
than i have the desire to write it. This book will kill me if i don't
write it. So, at 4 am i woke up drenched in sweat, soaked in my fear,
and i turned on my laptop. And then, I wrote.

--
Short Stories >[ www.fubar69.blogspot.com]
Poetry > [www.fubarpoems.blogspot.com]

"Whatever it is, I'm against it"

Thoughts-1

The internet is still giving problems. Everytime i connect, its a race
against time,either its 10 minutes or 5 minutes of connectivity. The
end result, i can not watch porn, i mean download songs and
educational books and stuff. The plan for now is to use the phone for
posting inane posts and lose some more readers in the process,
afterall you come here looking for weirdness,madness and some respite
from your fuckd up life. Well, bear with me. Good times will be here
again:)

--
Short Stories >[ www.fubar69.blogspot.com]
Poetry > [www.fubarpoems.blogspot.com]

"Whatever it is, I'm against it"

Few Days Back

This is what happened few days back...

I woke up at 0830 hrs today. This is the time I usually leave for office.

"Fuck!" I thought and slipped out of my pajamas into my office clothes and rummaged through the stuff in my room for the keys of my bike. Outside, it was raining, so called the boss to let her know that i'll be late today. Sat in room with the balcony door open and read Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere.

Time spend not reading/writing is time well wasted. So, well, rain let down after a bit, and i started for office, en way some fuck in a car splashed a fucket load of dirty rain water on me. Fuck that i thought and drove on to office.

Another drudged day passed slowly, the depression took over many times and the coffee didn't help make it any better. Ate like an idiot at lunch, fuck trying to stay thin, i'll get fat like a king.

Finally, the hour of coming back rang, and just ran out of office. Bought 3 mangoes on my way back, ate one after dinner, as i possess no knife so it was somewhat messy with a spoon :) Then read Neverwhere complete, great book, Gaiman at his best!

Now, as i write this, I'm wondering how many people would have thought of it as a story expecting something grisly or macabre, or horrible to happen by then end.

He he, just fuckin with you, this was just a boring outline of my boring day.

Off to sleep now. Good Night.

----
this was the story of a day...my net is acting up on me, i'm gonna kill this son of a bitch and get a faster better and newer connection.

Love At Second Sight

The first time I saw her she was just another girl. I could have passed her in the market, on a train, on a traffic light or anywhere else in the world, I just would not have paid any attention. Not for the first time. But the second time was a completely different story.

The second time I saw her, I fell in love with her. Just because of a scar, a moon shaped crescent on her right cheek, that made me long for her, to be near her, to see her fall asleep and look at her all night long, to lick that flesh wound that had just healed.

Oh, you will think that I am a weirdo but let me explain the meanderings of my tiny heart.

I knew I was seeing her for the second time because she stopped and noticed me when she was coming out of the liquor store. I stood there in the harsh street light and she patted me on the head and called me a name as she passed me by. The outline of a bottle of Absolut clear in her handbag.

For me, it was Absolut Love.

So, I did the only thing that came naturally to such an affectionate gesture. I followed her. I ran after her car as she drove like a maniac and I knew Mr. Absolut was already up and about inside that metal box with wheels. She reached her home and staggered out of her car and I was at the door of her house before she got out of the vehicle. She looked down at me, smiled, opened the door and let me in.

Soon, she was drunk and as I sat at her feet nibbling at left over chicken wings, she told me the story of how some bastard had hit her in the face with a beer bottle and given her that scar. I listened to her all night long and gave her my best puppy dog look with my big doggy eyes and my wagging doggy tail. I could see it her eyes that she loved it.

And when she fell asleep on her table, I licked her scar.

Twice.
--=-=-
For added understanding of this story, please scroll down and read Shitty Dreams :)
Anybody observing what's going on?
Or am I the only one who knows what the fuck I'm doing?
Lemme know...

Shitty Dreams

The first ray of sun chased the cap from the bottle of beer somewhere into the darkness under the bed.

He took a swig as she turned and put her arm around him.

"I had one of the weirdest dreams of my life" she said.

"Really? Well, what was it about?" he asked, taking another long swallow of the beer.

"I saw this giant rat in my dream, it was the size of a skyscraper, destroying our city and then it got eaten eaten by a mountain a cheese."

"That's weird. But I had an even weirder dream."

"Enlighten me." she said as she snuggled up to him.

"That you were going down on me at a traffic light and everyone stopped to watch."

"You naughty creep! You really have no shame! That was one shitty dream!"

She laughed and hit him with the spare pillow. He put up his arm to defend himself and she hit him again. The third time he snatched the pillow out of her hands and slammed the bottle of beer in her face.

He laid himself down beside her, as her blood crimsoned the white sheets. He kissed her torn and bleeding cheek and whispered in her ear.

"Never call my dreams shitty."
---------------------
Never mess with a man who drinks his beer the first thing in morning.

So, two stories with dream in the title, guess I need to sleep more.

You liking it so far? Lemme know

The Dream Of A Rat

A rat crawls out of its hole and licks a drop of blood on the floor. The blood is mixed with vodka and soon the rat is tripping out of its head. Somehow, it tries to make its way back into the rat hole but the alcohol is too strong for the small body, stumbling and staggering, the rat's tail weaves a strange letter in the blood stained floor.

The hole is close but it is still too far, the broken bottle of vodka it had climbed over earlier now lies in its path like a mountain. It gives up and curls against the broken bottle to sleep.

Then, the rat dreams.

In the dream the rat is the size of a T-Rex. It roars through the cities of the humans, pounding them into dust of their own steel and concrete. The humans strike the rat with their nuclear weapons filled with rat poison but the rat is strong and this is its dream. It picks up humans in its little claws, now as big as the claws of an ancient god, and nibbles the humans into little little pieces.

It grows double its size now and sweeps up city after city, human hoard after hoard, and crunches into them like they are cornflakes on its breakfast table. Cornflakes, with the milk of their own blood!

The armies of the world soon give up and lay down their weapons against the Great Rat. The mountains of french cheese are then unraveled for the Rat, now proclaimed Great by the UN itself.

Finally, the Great Rat reaches what it has been causing all this bloodshed and destruction. The Collosal Mountain of Cheese, bigger than the rat itself. The rat pounces forward for the mountain but wait! What is this! The Mountain sprouts claws of its own and its jaw opens wide to swallow the rat whole!

And in that moment the Great Rat is gone.

Forever.

The dream breaks and the rat finds itself in a warm, wet and dark place. This little place moves sluggishly and the rat can not figure out up from down and left from right. Everything is around him.

And from all around the rat, a purring, satisfied voice says "Meow".

------------
I'm feeling weird, what about you?

In Her Shame

She holds a newspaper over her head as she runs out into the rain. She gets wet anyway but at least the gun is dry. The big heavy piece of metal and death in her hand, cradled against her breast like a baby. She throws the news paper into the street and fumbles with the keys of her car. The keys slip, once, twice but finally she manages to get the door open.

Once inside, she lays the gun on the passenger seat and takes a deep breath. The bottle of vodka is lying near the gearshift and she takes a deep swallow from it. The white fire flows down her throat and settles into the pit of her stomach, burning her soul. She blinks back tears and the world around her starts a slow, jazzy spin on a broken axis.

“That bastard. That Dogfucker. That lousy son of a rabid cunt.” Her words come out broken through her gritted teeth. She lays her head on the steering wheel and finally cries.

Outside, the rain hammers on the roof of her car, on the road, on her soul, spread-eagled and lying naked in the rain. Small molecules of shame make way for the dutch courage inside her, and a sluggish grin manifests itself on her face.

She picks the gun and shoves it in front of her skirt. The bottle of vodka magically appears in her left hand. She steps out in the rain and is instantly soaked to the skin. Wet, drunk and angry she walks into her own house where her husband is with his mistress. She had walked away earlier just to give them time.

She opens the door on the two naked bodies.

Somewhere, thunder strikes down a tree and she empties the bullets into skin and bones. The bottle of vodka bleeds on the floor and mixes with the blood.

Outside, the rain keeps on falling.
-------
Can’t help it, its raining outside and in my sleep deprived mind this is all I could think up. I think this is the first time I have said Cunt on this blog (GO ME!). Kids, stay away and do not look that word up in the dictionary. You don’t need to make the same mistakes as me.
;)

The Streets Of Ralk

The sky split open and rain poured down on the streets of Ralk.

The residents of the city, mutants, humans and animals all ran to escape the deadly stings of the raindrops. The few unlucky who were not able to find any shelter instantly dissolved to slush with the touch of the first drops of rain.

The rains that came unexpected and frequently decided the fate of the population of Ralk who were not fast enough to run for rain shelters when it started to pour.

Hilina stood under a rain shelter when the first rain started, the third sunset had already taken place and the night was starting to crawl into the city. She watched the two moons make the figure of 8 as they rose to take up the challenge of night.

Her moon gaze was disturbed as a finger poked twice at her bottom in the Ralkian way of greeting strangers. She turned around to see a mutant boy with one fluorescent eye in the middle of his forehead focused at her. The boy was as tall as her and she had to reach around to poke his bottom.

The formalities complete, he lit two cigarettes and offered one to her. Hilina noticed they were Earth made and as rare as a living Ralkian in the city's rain. She took a deep puff and felt the smoke burn her lungs raw, her face turned red and her eyes changed to a deep color of black.

Hilina spun, staggered and stumbled on her feet and splashed face first into the pool of rainwater that had collected at the edge of the rain shelter. The mutant boy stared at her dissolving body, looked at his own cigarette and flicked it into the pouring rain. He took the cigarette packet from his pocket and looked at the earth symbols printed on it. He couldn't read the ancient language but some deep forgotten instinct in his head told him that the words said, 'Smoking Kills.'

The rain kept on falling in the streets of Ralk.

Not Dead Yet

The guns have been cleaned, the knives have been sharpened (thanks Rex), the powder has been checked, the timers on the bombs have been set, the half life of the plutonium is still half, and the tank is full of all the ammunition it can carry.

Right on, 'nuff time relaxing, time to get back to writing.

I missed everything here last time, this time I won't.

:)