Tuesday, 5 March 2013

Knudsen In Retrograde

After my night of so so carnal exploration with yon French bird Clair DeLune I raided her fridge and quietly slipped out while she was still snoring away. At least this one was still alive, I learn from me mistakes do I.
Having spider as a safety word wasn't too bright, "I don't care if you see a spider, yer bigger than it so it's more afraid of you now I just need to finish."

I stepped out onto the street and got my bearings, the town centre was that way. I should grab a loaf and a paper on me way home.

I walked past the usual flag protest with them shouting about being victims of oppression and how everyone was out to get them. I'd give a fuck but I gave them all to yon French bird last night.

It was a breezy day, the sun was glaring but giving off no heat but ... at least it was dry .... by nature we're a whiny lot, we complain about the weather, about our health and how my life is soo bad cos my neighbour poisoned my dog even though it wasn't my dog and how the fuck could I eat it now when it's full of rat poison? ..... then we do that uncharacteristic touch of optimism at the end where we look around and then say, "well at least it's dry" I bet if there was a Norn Iron person walking in the long line towards the ovens of Dachau concentration camp he'd look up and say, "at least it's dry"cos hey you wouldn't want to get gassed on a rainy day, that would be fucking depressing.

So I popped into the Spar and got me loaf and me paper, I always get the paper with the half naked gurl on the cover, why they put them on the top shelf is beyond me.

Getting to the lights to cross the road I push the button, aye theres always some cunt who thinks they are too cool to wait for the light and cross during any break in traffic, suddenly a large jeep pulled around the corner and stopped.

The man standing on top of it swung his 50 cal in my direction, screamed something that sounded either like Gaelic or Arabic and started firing.

As bullets bounced off the ugly but trendy art sculpture behind me I had to remember my military training, quick as a flash I dropped to the ground, lay in the fetal position and softly cried. My training had gotten me through Normandy, Vietnam and the Falklands conflict.

After the roar of the gun the silence had a high pitched ring to it only to be interrupted by the sound of the shocked and the dying.
I couldn't lie there in a puddle of piss all day so I got up my eyes darting around for the next threat but the jeep had gone.
Damn those dissident insurgent militants and their cowardly ways.

 Looking around for a rich person or a hot chick to selflessly help I saw something that chilled me very bones.

The dead were coming back to life and feeding off the living.  Damn, fuck, piss says I, how symbolic of a decaying socialist society can you get?

I started to slowly back away but they had seen me, they started to lurch towards me so I started to lurch away from them. I threw some live old people and children at them but it hardly slowed them doon at all.
Was this how Old Knudsen was to die after all this time? What would happen to his blog? Who would tell people what stupid twats they are?

Hey mate ya got a feg?

Just then a fire exit door opened to the side of me and a startled employee stepped out to get a crafty cigarette. I grabbed the fat wee fucker by the scruff of the neck and turfed him into the crowd of walkers.
They grabbed at me as I squeezed through the door pulling it shut behind me, I could hear the screams of the employee getting ripped apart and thought to myself, 'I'd love a ciggie right now.'

I looked doon and saw something that crushed my very soul, the loaf I had gotten was whole wheat, I wanted a normal non-ghey loaf of white bread, can they not have a section of bread for normal people?
I hadn't payed for the bread but that wasn't the point, it's hard enough to shoplift these days without them putting this shite in the way. The only thing for it was to go back to the Spar and complain to the manager.

Old Knudsen was pissed off, hungry and craving nicotine. He flung open the fire door and stared at a hundred soon to be well fucked up zombies ..... at least it was dry.