bloody formatting

Stephen woke up with his eyes closed and listened to the silence. He sighed, rose from his bed and did all the things that one should do in the morning. He washed himself, brushed his teeth, did his morning stretches and dressed. He had a healthy breakfast of fresh fruit and cereal without milk, washed down with a bottle of volvic water. It was important to look after your health. Once finished he cleared away the morning mess and tidied up the flat. He did all of this still with his eyes closed.Done, Stephen put on his boots and strode outside and listened very very carefully. He sighed again and opened his eyes. Hmmm, looked like it was going to rain. He went back in and got his jacket. A brief ray of sunshine pierced through the overcast skies and he jogged to the sundial in the garden. 8.30 already. Where did the time go? Normally he would have finished his morning routine by 8.20.He gave himself both a mental and physical shrug and got on with the day. There was so much that probably didn't have to be done but he would do anyway. He cycled into the city for a spot of window shopping and met Sid in Tesco’s“Hey man” said Sid. “Want some free expired shit?”“Always, but nothing that'll make me sick”“Expiry dates are a myth anyway man. Something cooked up by the government so we waste more food and spend more money to fuel their precious economy” Sid went round back and returned with a packet of bread sticks and a jar of gherkins. “Today is phallic day!” he declared, waving the goods in the air “All phallus shaped foods are free!”“Oh well, I guess it gives me more choice than inverted vagina day” Stephen said wearily and took the goods. “By the way, isn’t the plural Phalli?“No. Now fuck off”The rest of the day passed uneventfully for Stephen. He went to the library and read some books. In the music store he practiced piano and played guitar. And in HMV, he got a few films for the night. Sid was there as well, unsurprisingly in the adult movie section.“I thought you were working” Stephen asked as Sid thrust a copy of “The Domin-Matrix” at him. “It was pretty quiet so I left. Anyway, working for a faceless corporation sucks King Kong dong”“I bet that faceless corporation has a tear running down its faceless cheek right now” Stephen looked at the back of the case. It showed a Neo look alike in a long leather jacket, shades and nothing else. He put it back. It wasn't Monday yet.A thought occurred to him. It seemed to be happening more and more lately. “Am I gay for not liking lesbian sex?”“Very. Though I'll be the first to admit a vagina on its own is a bit...bland. And that's why God invented the dildo” Sid continued fondling through the adult films. “Let me know if you see the porno version of high school musical” he added.Stephen continued his own search for a good movie. Lately he had been quite the film buff, and reckoned he had watched most of those films that everyone had to see before they died. Eventually he settled for The Shining. In his opinion it was the only good Stephen king film, and still didn't measure up to the book.“You coming over tonight?” he asked Sid“Do you want me to come over tonight?”“Do you want to come over tonight?”“Well I wouldn't want to go where I'm not wanted”“And I wouldn't want you to do anything you didn't want to”They both stood there in silence, Sid grinning the whole time. Finally Stephen broke the stalemate. “Come over at eightish...”“HA!” Sid said triumphantly. “You caved first. I win. You suck. And that’s the way it will be forever and ever and ever” He danced his victory dance, which involved much crotch thrusting and some roboting. Stephen, the epitome of patience, waited for him to be done.“Now,” he asked when Sid was through “would you like dinner?”“Would you like to make me dinner?”“Sigh”
Night fell and found the two friends in the flat at the dinner table. Sid Belched and farted so quickly the sounds over lapped each other “Crikey, that was some pucker tucker matey. Better than shrimp on the barbie anytime. And so very phallic...ARR!” Sid had made a hat with corks on strings round it, and had been speaking with an Australian accent since. It was also a pirate hat.“Anyways” he continued through a mouthful of phallus. “What’s tomorrows plan Sheila?”“Tomorrow is Sunday”“Already!? Christ in a chiropractor’s matey you gotta give that wallaby a rest”Stephen shook his head “It’s a promising avenue, and I'm not exactly in a position to be picky”“But you go to all of them! You've picked them all!”“Who's to say who was right in the end?”“Well given your own unique position, I guess you arrrrrr, Skippy”
“Lucky me”

The next day Stephen rose as early as he could and dressed very plainly and sombrely. He cycled down to the church. At the door he left a modest and meaningless donation, and once inside he began to pray. He used to do it out loud but Sid had followed and made fun of him. Anyway, he had felt wrong doing so. Places like this wanted to be quiet and peaceful.After he prayed he flicked through one of the bibles. There were answers there, providing you saw them for yourself. He had read it all before anyway, and with growing conviction realised he would probably end up in hell. Confessions and baptisms weren’t exactly options now. There were good stories though, honest and uncompromising.

Once done, he padded out quietly and headed for the synagogue. Sid was there waiting for him. He was wearing a black hat and a fake beard. “Shalom!” He declared. Stephen sighed. Still it was no worst than when Sid had dressed as “Super Pope! (With the powers of 10 ordinary ordained archbishops!)” He would concede the cape made the whole ensemble work.Stephen had been teaching himself Hebrew, and haltingly made his way through one of the 3 prayers he new, the Shacharit. He tried to ignore Sid who was dancing about, singing that song that was always sung at bar mitzvahs on TV. When he was done, his friend approached him with a pained look on his face. “Today isn’t even the Shabbat. And you’re meant to do this everyday. I will not have a wayward black sheep in my flock. So flock off!”“You coming to the Mosque?” Stephen asked.“Nah man, it’s too soon, if you know what I mean”“I think it’s been plenty long enough”The mosque was, conveniently enough just down the road from the synagogue. He felt it right that they should be so close together. People could learn a lot from the things they built. Reflections of themselves that showed none of their own flaws. His own reflections were doing nothing more than stalling him however, and he went inside.Once in, he took of his shoes and hid them in a corner of the entrance. Then he went to the wash room and cleaned his hands and feet. Finally he went into the prayer hall and, with aid of a compass faced east. Beyond that he knew nothing of how a Muslim service was conducted, and so merely repeated his prayer from earlier.Some time later he left. There, that was all the Abrahamic religions out the way. Time for some Hinduism and pūjā. They let you pick your own avatar of god. Sid’s suggestion of Optimus prime had been considered for some time before Stephen had found a more suitable one. He walked to the shrine he had made singing “karma karma karma karma karma chameleon”It was past dark when he was finished and made his way home. There were after all, quite a few religions out there. And the vast majority seemed to suggest that not worshipping them was a sure fire way to end up in fire. On the other hand, they also said something about not worshipping other religions. Stephen had tried to compromise by spending roughly equal amounts of time with each one. And as his Gran had said, don’t put all your eggs in one basket, or she'd suck them.He sat down on the grass outside and looked up at the night sky and the stars. There seemed to be a lot more of them nowadays. Billions of candles on a pitch black cake of nothingness. Would there be anyone around to see them all go out? Would someone blow them out? And if so, would they make a wish?“You’re talking out loud again” Sid said gently from behind. “And talking some amount of shite from what I heard.” He sat down next to Stephen“Comfort in sound. Feeder had it right”“Comfort in conformity” Sid replied. “Look how happy the Nazi’s were, before it hit the fan” He stretched and lay back. “Speaking of which, I’m writing another play”“Called?”“They saved Hitler’s brain!”“Ah, but where did they put it?”“It was so evil it had to be cut into 5 pieces and consumed by the most kindly, good and pure people of the age”.“Such as?” Stephen smiled in spite of his recent dark mood“Ghandi”“He was still alive then?”“Not for long, he was assassinated in 1948. They blamed it on Hindu radicals but in reality it was splinter cell elements of a Nazi plot to resurrect Hitler”“Ah, of course. It sounds intriguing”Sid was all fired up now “That was the first of the Human Hitler seals to be broken. The play is set in present times, where only two seals remain. The Dali Llama, and…me!” He leapt up and struck a pose. “It is up to me, upon inheriting my grandfathers dark legacy, to safe guard his holiness from the sinister machinations of senior Hitler youth members in positions of power"Stephen stood up and went to pat his friend on the back. He stopped halfway though, and let his hand keep rising, where it turned into a yawn. It was getting late. In fact it was so late it was getting early."I'm going to sleep" he told Sid, who had started trying to do handstands on the grass."Plenty of time for that when you’re dead and buried" upside down Sid told him."Depends where you end up, I guess" Stephen began walking home. He thought about what Sid had just said. “Where was Hitler’s body buried?” he called back.“Official reports from The KGB indicated that he was buried in an unmarked grave in Magdeburg. BUT fearing the area to be used as a Neo-Nazi rallying site, a secret operation was conducted and the remains were thrown into Elbe River. Unofficial reports however, reveal a far more SHOCKING truth""Is this all in your play?""Indeed!""Well, if it is half as good as Shakespeare and the Ice pirates...""The musical" Sid added"The musical""On Ice" Sid addedStephen took a deep breath "Well if it is half as good as Shakespeare and the ice pirates on ice the musical" he took another breath "Then I look forward to seeing it. Now good night"

After yesterday’s piety, Monday brought with it some mediocre sinning. Stephen woke up and had a wank to set him up for the rest of the day. A while back he had started keeping his own samples, but decided that this was a little weird, and had burned them all. It was a risky business, he thought, to have too much of your semen kicking about. It could end up in some radioactive waste, and then be consumed by a badger. From there the imagination could take you down all kinds of horrible routes and avenues and vicious cul-de-sacks. He did have a few pints of his bloody kicking about though, that was just common sense.The rest of the day was given up to indulgence. He ate chocolates and drank vodka. He watched loads of porn (Pride and Lady-juice, Little red's riding wood) and made some headway (aha) through the erotic novel he had been reading. Towards the end he inflated Gertrude and went through every position in the karma sutra with her, with Barry White playing in the background. Eventually he had had enough of her love and lay down, heads sore and spinning.Sid knew to respect Stephens’s privacy on a Monday, It was the only time he did. So he wasn't worried about being disturbed during these disturbing scenes. Sometimes Sid jumped in the shower with him, declaring "We're so manly, we wash together naked!"

The end of the day saw Stephen spent. His penis was like a cliché, tired and over used, and his afternoon boozing had left him feeling very sleepy. Still, it was out of his system now, whatever it was that made him restless and angry regardless of how much healthy exercise he did. He had learned a while back that there was no using wrestling with this feeling. He wasn’t strong enough to argue with himself.

In fact a while back things had gotten a bit crazy, and it had taken several crashing come downs from weeks of abuse to convince him to limit such activities to one day a week. It was insane how much booze you could have while on the coke. And so abusive Mondays came about, a day when his super ego hung up its pretentious cape and the iceberg flipped over, Id on top like an overbearing girlfriend.

Christ, the thoughts he had when he was drunk, Stephen thought, inner monologging about himself in the 3rd person. The streams of his consciousness being pissed away from the addled bladder of his brain. Down the drain, no need to flush let the yellow mellow like pus. Wouldn’t it be much better if he was called Gustav? Almost certainly possibly yes and maybe be Spanish to. Not so much to ask and it would be so much better if even zombie Hitler answered with worried buried words. Buried…


Stephen awoke the next day to the sound of Sid singing Bonnie Tyler’s total eclipse of the heart. He kept his eyes closed and saw that he wasn’t that hung over. Then he opened his eyes when Sid jumped on him singing “I fucking need you more than ever!” and realised he was very hung over. Still, it did not do to stay in bed and sulk. It was one of the most endearing memories he had about his father, his stubborn refusal to admit feeling rough in the morning. It summed up the kind of man he was quite nicely.

Forcing himself out of bed Stephen went for a shower, making sure Sid didn’t follow. He turned on the tap, got the temperature right and sat down cross legged in the stall. Those monks were onto something there, he thought. Sitting down and letting the water wash over your head and shoulders, which then foamed up and washed over your head and shoulders. It just felt right, like you were in the womb again or something new agey like that. It certainly was a new age he lived in.

After a good half hour of shower meditating, taking in and depositing fluids (another thing that just felt so right, even though it was quite wrong) Stephen got up. He brushed most the water off and went large. One thing about boozing was that you’d never be constipated. Then again, as he got older, Stephen had an ever growing appreciation for that elusive thing known as a healthy bowl movement. The rushing burning sensation told him that this was not to be one.

He realised something just before he turned to confirm it. Yep, no toilet roll. Only the cardboard tubes he had been saving to make a giant periscope. However, if a man was careful, and peeled away so that thin strips of cardboard came off…

5 minutes later Stephen got back in the shower. It was more hygienic this way, he thought, vigorously applying soap to his hand.



“So, what’s today’s plan?” Sid asked, jumping up and down on the bed. “DVD Box set sex in the city marathon?”
Stephen waved him aside and changed the soiled sheets. When he had made the bed new again, Sid went back to jumping on it.
“A well made bed means your not living” he told Stephen.
“I’m still breathing, so I must be doing something right” Stephen replied.

When he was hung over, Stephen had a routine he would go through to help deal with it. First was the long long shower, followed by the painfully essential shit. Next came the forcing of food he really didn’t want to eat. This was why he used a blender and liquefied it. To make his world famous hangover cure.

The ingredients were relatively simple. First any fruit that happened to be kicking about went in. Then, for the sake of his forsaken bowls he added a good wack of porridge oats. Finally a can of irn bru went in. When the orangey gloopy mix was done Stephen drank it straight out the blender. Taste wasn’t much of a problem given his furry tongue, but holding it down took a bit of concentration.

The next phase of operation hangover was equally simple. He went out for a long walk, savouring the reasonably fresh air this side of town had to offer. As it was a sunny day, he walked to the sundial located six miles away in the woodland heritage sight. He really liked it here, there were several streams running into a river, and the wind made all the leaves rustle and shuffle. It made the place seem alive.

The sundial showed it to be around three o’clock. Stephen sighed. He wished he had cycled. He knew from experience it took about 3 hours to walk here, and that was downhill. His stomach was also reminding him that it was now ready for proper food. But the walk had done its job and he felt a good deal better.

Before he left he sang. With all the background noise he didn’t feel so foolish doing so here.

Theres a lotta hush hush these days
No one makin any noise
Everything is just an echo that fades
Everyone is much the same

Where will you go, when everyone is gone?
What will you do, when everything is done?
Nothing is a pretty scary something say some
At least that’s one thing I’ve been told
At least that’s one thing I know

His voice faded and he walked home.



The next day was a Wednesday. Wednesday was a productive day for Stephen. It was the day when he did creative things. He wrote short stories and poetry, and helped Sid with his play, when he wasn’t being secretive about it. He drew large childlike pictures of elephants with moustaches and sunglasses. There was a giant Lego Death star he had been working on, which was approaching house size. Then there were the big projects. Like the green house, full of tomatoes and oranges. Another memory of his dad, telling him that they were thirsty plants, that pouring Coca-Cola helped them grow and that yellow tomatoes were the best ones.

There was plenty of gardening to be done actually, and a good portion of the day was given up to that. Stephen raked leaves and pruned plants and hoed potatoes. He was beginning to understand why farmers had that deep thoughtful look on their faces all the time. It didn’t take much brainpower to spread (homemade) muck after all, yet at the same time it led to a stern sort of focus. The result was that you diligently concentrated on any problem that might be rattling about your head. As he dug into the ground, his mind began tracing the outlines of a plan. These outlines however, were interrupted when Sid decided to help by pissing on the cauliflowers.

“Thank you” Stephen told him
“I’m just trying to remind you that the water purifiers need topped up again” Sid replied. “Don’t want to be showering in your own urine like you were on Monday”
“I…better do that then” said Stephen, glad he brushed his teeth three times a day.

The thing Stephen was most proud of working on during creative Wednesdays, was the wall. He sometimes worried about the cliché nature of it. And no doubt psychologists would have a lot to say on the matter. But it was tall and thick and well built. And he liked the collage of different rocks that went into it, often trying to arrange them into shapes and patterns. They felt firm and right between his hands. Yep, the wall was a good solid distraction and he was glad to have it, even with Sid wearing a hard hat and sitting atop it, wolf whistling whenever Stephen bent down and speaking in a poor Brooklyn accent.

“Would you get a load of the bazongas on that! Hey larry! Get up here and check this broad out” Sid put on a different hat “Wow, ve-ry nice! Hey sweet cheeks give us a twirl. I gots somethin to show you babe, and I thinks you gonna like it”

It went on like this for another few hours until Stephen tired, showered in fresh water, and went to bed.



The next day was a Thursday, which was given up to doing all the things that Sid wanted to do, dragging a reluctant Stephen with him. And what Sid wanted to do primarily, was smash things. Obviously there were certain things off limit, the flat, the Death star and the wall for instance. But that still left a good deal of targets. Today’s one was the French embassy on the east side of town. It was a rather pretty and scenic building, with a fountain and statues. Sid thought it funny to copy the statues and piss into the fountain. He then took out cans of spray paint and wrote, in surprisingly elegant Edwardian font Go hop back to the pond you surrender monkey Frogs

“It has always been my dream to vandalise every foreign embassy of every country” Sid told Stephen as he stepped back to survey his handiwork.
“And why is that?”
“It’s a statement man! To show that all cuntish countries, great and small, that they are all equal and useless in the face of ME”
Sid took something out of a man bag he had brought with him.
“Now, do you know what this is?” he said, waving it in Stephens face
“It’s a stick, or possibly a very dull dildo”
“More like a boom-stick, cum Dildo!” Sid shouted excitedly “It’s a pipe bomb fool, haven’t you ever played Duke Nukem 3D?” He twisted the top and threw it into an open window
“Take that Fidel Castro!” he shouted and turned to run away. Stephen watched with mild interest. Was his companion smart enough to actually make an explosive device? A few moments and loud wummmpth later it was shown that the answer was yes, he could.
“Viva la revolution” He said, and walked away.


“Now what?” he asked Sid when he finally caught up with him
“I’ll tell you what” Sid said, and remained silent for sometime as he thought of a reply. “The world is our oyster man, so let’s see how much it takes to smash the shell open and let the water in” He jumped on the hood of a nearby car and started stamping on it. The alarm went off, breaking the silence with a deafening cacophony. Sid wailed with it, but not long after it started, the noise petered off into nothing. Stephen supposed that the battery had just used its last bit of juice.

Sid, who’s wailing had died with the cars, fell into a sitting position and sulked. He looked at Stephens’s calm impassive face angrily.
“Don’t you ever get tired man, of living beneath false skies and defeated horizons?”
Stephen looked up “It looks pretty real to me. And pretty big too”
“Yeah well, that’s all a matter of perspective”
“And what is your perspective. What do you see?”
Sid remained silent for some time before replying “Somewhere I don’t want to be” He got up and stood next to Stephen “And neither do you” he told him.
Stephen shrugged “When God gives you lemons you…”
“FIND A NEW GOD!”
Both friends looked at each other and laughed. It was a wholesome and natural sound, and it felt good to be able to do so.
“Come on man, I still got a bunch of pipe bombs, lets go blow some shit up”

Several embassies and a few spreading fires later the two of them sat atop the highest building in the city, watching the flames grow. They had been careful about how they had arranged the fires and from up here it looked like a giant red exclamation mark. Or, as Sid had told Stephen, if you squinted a bit, like a giant fiery member, the sparks shooting liquid hot semen into an uncompromising abyss. The sun was beginning to set, like an egg ready for fertilization, and it really looked quite pretty. There was always the chance that someone high above would notice and look down with appreciation

“Aww man you should have seen it” Sid said suddenly. “There was this program on about binge drinking and liver abuse. And this hot woman on telly said that the liver was the biggest organ in your body yeah. And I said...”
“I'd like to be the biggest organ in her body?”
“Bingo. Just such a damn shame no one was around to hear it” Sid held out his hand to be high-fived. Stephen obliged but missed.
“You are so lame” Sid told him “It’s a good thing I’m around to increase your cool factor”
“I know, now time for bed. Tomorrows a busy day”



Tomorrow, which convention suggests being Friday and which Stephen thought of as Whyday, was certainly busy. He cycled around the city taking samples of various things; water, air, common household products and carting them back to his flat. There he proceeded to examine them all under a microscope, not knowing what he was looking for, but feeling reasonably certain that he would know if and when he found it.

“Well, I think we can rule out Cheetos” He declared, leaning back from the lens.
“Just as well” Sid said, munching his way through the rest of the packet.
“Its times like this I wish we still had the internet. Wikipedia would know the answer”
“Damn straight, and I bet it would also have a high school musical porno version. With the actual Vanessa Hudgens in it”
It was quite sad really, Stephen thought, that of all the things to miss, something as intangible as the internet would be so high up the list. It seemed the government were quite right in despairing about his generation, obsessing over pop culture and pointless memetic legacies.

After he had finished his uninformed molecular enquiries, Stephen went to check the radio tower at the top of the hill. The generators needed to be checked up on and transmissions had to be reviewed. Also a few weeks ago, on a Thursday of course, Sid had convinced him to change the message to “4,8,15,16,23,42” This was probably a good way to be answered by silence, but Stephen supposed if the signal made it all the way to America then there was a chance of some conspiracy nut replying. The Americans had conspiracies down to a fake moon landing T, and paranoia was a useful survival trait. He should know

Sid followed him to the radio tower, and pleaded for the message not to be changed, threatening to smash it up. Stephen compromised by allowing him to spray paint the words “Dharma initiative” on the front door. He really did have nice handwriting.
“Purgatory man, I’m telling you” Sid declared
“You could well be right” Stephen said. “Certainly something I’ve considered”

Next on the to do list was to check up on any prophecies that seemed to be relevant. It never failed to amaze Stephen how many people would, with absolute certainty, predict the end of the world. Those crazy Mayans damn near had it right. The best ones, he found, were the self fulfilling ones, but then he was a fan of the theatre, and biased in favour of dramatic irony.

Friday also meant facing very important decision of whether to leave or not. As always the inner debate raged, with pros and cons being weighed up against each other. The thing that always always clinched it however, was the memory of what had happened last time he had tried to leave. He did not want a repeat of that. He did walk to the city limits however, and stare out for a long time. Turning his back to go home he found Sid right behind him.

“Boo”
Stephen remained impassive. He knew Sid would be there, just as he knew that Sid knew that he came here every Friday. He had very strong doubts indeed about if Sid would follow him should he leave the city, which was a good reason to come see if he did leave. He kept walking home, feeling eyes on his back. This was one of the few moments in which his friend was deadly silent.



After the hugely and routinely busy week he had had, Stephen was quite relieved for Saturday to come round again, and do normal people things. He decided that tonight’s film would be a heart warming and life affirming one, and tried to think of one that fit the bill. In the mean time he went to Tescos and hung out with Sid.

“And how are we” he asked, while Sid squatted down to a shelf and put condoms on bananas.
“The boss is riding me hard today” Sid replied, gesturing to a cardboard cut out of Lindsay Lohan that was stood behind the till.
Stephen looked at what his friend was up to. “Those are my bananas” he pointed out. “What exactly are you doing with them?”
“We had a missed delivery so I said I could get my hands on some”
“That doesn’t quite explain why you are putting rubbers on them”
“Duh, to keep them fresh for the customers” said Stephen, slipping a ribbed easy-on pleasure max over a particularly girthy banana. “Anyway, we’ll have to talk later. I don’t want to be disciplined again, and let me tell you, she is a firm woman, with a sharp tongue”

Innuendo over, Stephen went down to the music store and practised piano again. Lately he had been actually trying to use the pedals, but his two way co-ordination was atrocious. Maybe he should take up the drums as well. Become a regular multitalented renaissance man. A bit too late for it to matter, but the devil did make work for idle hands. The faint scars snaking up his arm were testament to that.

Eventually he trundled on down to HMV, and surveyed the legions of films at his disposal. It had been a while since he had seen a Kung Foo film. While he was contemplating, Sid came in through the doors.
“Why aren’t you at work?” Stephen asked “Bunk off early again”
“I got fired” Sid said gloomily
“Why”
Sid raised his hand to reveal in its clutch the severed cardboard head of his manager
“Ah” Stephen said “That’ll do it alright. Frowned upon in the retail sector so I hear” He had an idea and went down a different Aisle. “I think however, that it helps decided tonight’s movie extravaganza” he declared, picking up a copy of Mean Girls and waving it in his friends face.

After a nourishing vegetarian meal, the two of them sat on the couch in front of the TV, making idle chit-chat
“You going through with tomorrow again?” Sid asked
“Of course” Stephen replied “I see no reason not to”
“Because it’s better to scurry in the dark, than end up under a magnifying glass on a hot sunny day?”
“Not all of us were troubled children that tortured ants”
“Know what the three early signs of a psycho-neurotic are? Wetting yourself, pyromania, and cruelty to small animals”
“Well, you remember something old every day”
“Which is why” Sid concluded “I spent my childhood pissing on flaming squirrels” he waved the cardboard head of Lindsay about laughing wildly.

“Would you get rid of that already?” Stephen said, gesturing to the head.
“Hell no, I got plans for this bad boy” Sid pointed at the TV “Now quit bitching, the Christmas dance scene is about to start”
They watched, and Stephen saw out of the corner of his eye Sid taking a pen and punching a sizeable whole in Miss lohans mouth.
“Do you have a watermelon?” Sid asked
“No”
“Maybe a large tomato? Any soft squishy fruit that isn’t citrus really”
“I have a large pineapple, if that’s any help”
Sid looked at him in anger “What! You do know that pineapple juice melts your fingerprints! Imagine what else it could do”
“I’d rather not”
Sid threw the head to the floor and scowled. This didn’t last long though and he went back to watching the television intently.

When the film had finished and the credits rolled up the screen Sid asked Stephen if he wanted to watch it again “But this time with directors’ commentary!”
Stephen contemplated this for sometime. “Yeah, go on then” He said finally. Time was a wily beast, and he would grasp at any weapon to help kill it.



Despite the predictions of the elders of the remote lagomi tribe, the sun rose on Sunday as it did on every other day, yellow orange as normal rather than the pitch black ball they said it would be. Stephen had long ago stopped worrying about any apocalyptic predictions. If the world ended chances are he wouldn’t know anything about it.

He rose and went to church. And said his prayer

“I know I’m not exactly a saint and I have never done anything great in my life, but I would like some answers. Not knowing the why behind this…punishment? Well whatever it is, it’s slowly killing me. I wake each day feeling a little more hollow and a little less of a real person. Please tell me where everyone went. I don’t want to be alone any more. Everybody’s gone. No bodies here”

“Ahem” said a voice behind him. Stephen turned.
“You were talking out loud again” Sid said quietly.
“Sorry”
Sid smiled brightly. “That’s ok old buddy old friend old pal”
“Old buddy…”
“Old friend old pal”

Stephen grabbed a near by bible and flicked through it. He found what he was looking for and hastily ran his fingers down the paper thin pages. Out loud he read; “We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed— in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed”
“That’s what she said” Sid replied
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!” Stephen said excitedly. “It’s so obvious”
“Care to enlighten the rest of us heathens?”
“The Rapture. Maybe that’s where they all went” he pointed up. Sid followed his gesture, squinting
“I can’t see them” he said, and pulled out a kaleidoscope. He peered through it. “Nope, I got nothing”
Stephen, who hadn’t been listening to a word of this continued. “Maybe God, or whoever, let everybody in. and he couldn’t exactly condemn all the bugs and fish and animals for not worshipping him, so they got in to. So maybe…”
“Maybe Harry Potter really was the second coming?”
“Maybe. Regardless, I need to check up on all of this. Now help me find a shovel”

“Tell me again” Sid asked. “Why we’re digging up the grave of” he broke off to check the name on the tombstone “Jenny Taylor…my, what cruel parents”
“And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. That’s why” said Stephen from the hole he had been digging.
“Well when you put it like that” Sid frowned. “So does that mean that there are zombies about! Scary flying Christian zombies?” He looked over his shoulder worriedly.
“It means” Said Stephen between grunts and shovels “That if the. Rapture happened. Then this grave. Will be empty. I can’t believe. I hadn’t done this. Already”
“Yep, digging up dead folk so damn obvious man. It’s just like in “They saved Hitler’s brain” Only without the Nazis .Anyways, what’s so great about finding out if the veloci-raptures happened yet? If that’s the case then it just confirmation that you’re fucked”
Stephen smiled “But at least I will know why. And terrible knowledge it may be, but it will be easier to bear than simply not knowing” He paused in his digging and looked thoughtful. “It would probably mean” he said, resuming with the shovel “That I actually am stuck in limbo. Or purgatory. In which case. I can research. Ways to get. Unstuck”

The shovel made a dull thud as it hit into wood and became jammed. Stephen pulled it out, abandoning it to dig away the rest of the dirt with his hands. The coffin he revealed was smaller than he had expected. It was so small in fact, that he was able to pry it out the ground and lift it right out onto the grass. Glancing up at the tombstone again he saw that Jenny had died aged only six years old.
“Well that was a stroke of luck” he said.

Sid lifted the box up and started shaking it, listening intently. “There’s certainly something in there” he said, letting go so it fell to the ground with a smack.
“We still need to check though” Stephen lifted the shovel. Sid ran around and put his hands over Stephens face so he couldn’t see “Piñata! Come on lets bust this Kinder Egg open and see what the surprise inside is”

Stephen obliged, and swung the shovel down hard upon the lid. It cracked and splintered, lines running up and across like crooked smiles. He swung again and again until he had punched through. Sid leapt onto it and stuck his head down into the hole.
“Hellooooo?” he cooed. He peered in deeper then pulled his head back, screaming, hands smacked over his face. “Arghghhg it’s got my eyes! My eyes!” he cried, and pulled two black squishy things out which he threw at Stephen.

Stephen caught one, examined it and popped it in his mouth. “Artichoke hearts?” he asked.
“In olive oil” Sid said, settling down after seeing his prank had failed.

Stephen looked in. There was something. But he couldn’t make out what. He put his hands through the hole and grunting with effort, pried the wood apart. And there, lying with her rotting hands neatly folded, was the decomposing remains of Jenny Taylor.

“Huh”
“Sorry man” Sid said “But looks like a no show for the second coming”
“I guess not” He couldn’t take his eyes of her body. It was the first he had seen in a long long time. Her skin was yellow grey and she was dressed in a pretty dark blue dress. Face had mostly wasted away, with the eyes and nose sunk deep into her skull. Her hair was lovely though, and he could tell quite easily that she had been a red head. It was thick and wavy and curly. It looked alive.

He reached down and very lightly brushed it with his finger tips. So soft and so cold. Nothing had felt like that to his touch for as long as he could remember.
“I wonder” Sid said leaning over his shoulder. “If you could be classified as a pedophile via necrophilia. Would you count the years after she died, so technically she would be over the legal age?”

Stephen took his hand away. It felt empty. Of course it was empty, there was nothing in it. It wasn’t something he would normally dwell on. He needed to do something with it, so he picked up the shovel.

“I think we need to do some more digging” he said
“And get to the bottom of this groovy mystery”

Stephen walked to the left and read the tombstone next to little Jenny’s. Here lies John Taylor. Husband, Father and friend. He smiled. It was good and right that they be buried so close to each other. He compared the dates. Probably not so good and right that they had both died so close to each other. Surprisingly John had went before Jenny, which made it less likely that he had committed suicide out of grief for a lost daughter. Maybe an impressionable young child might just take it into her head to see her dad again.

“Watcha thinkin?” Sid asked, seeing Stephens’s furrowed brow.
“I’m thinking that suicide is a sin. One of the big ones. Which may well excuse someone from ascending to heaven. In which case…”
“Family reunion?”
“I’m afraid so” He thrust the shovel into the ground and began digging.
“Nervous about meeting the father?”
“Only if he starts talking”
“Maybe he’ll ask what your intentions towards his daughter are”
“That would be awkward”
“You better comb your hair. First impressions and all that”

Eventually Stephen revealed the casket of the late Jenny’s late father. This took considerably longer as he had apparently been a very large man. The thing was huge, and there was no way Stephen could hall it out. On the plus side, obesity heart attack death wasn’t a sin, or a lot of American evangelists would be turning over in their cramped graves. He smashed the broad coffin open.

Sure enough, inside were the remains of Jenny’s father. The same thick red hair confirmed it. He had wasted away from being incredibly fat to merely plump. Death did wonders for your health. His suit hung loose to his body and his skin hung loose to him. In fact his face resembled that of a blood hound, so wrinkled and sagging was it. It was a tired looking face, haggard and stressed. Not at all peaceful. Stephen hoped the family had opted out of an open casket wake.

“He looks like fat bastard from Austin powers” Sid said.
Stephen sighed. He had been wrong. There had been no rapture and there had been no one listening to him every Sunday. All that there was, was him and the bodies lying before him. And still no answers.

He walked back to the girl and stared at her some more. He didn’t touch her hair. Instead he lifted the casket and out it back in the grave. “Here’s looking at you kid” he said, and began burying her. The dirt spilled onto her from the whole in the lid and soon she was gone.

“You seem down” Sid said
“Oh?”
“There’s rain falling from your eyes. I haven’t seen that happen in a long time”
“I haven’t seen people in a long time”
“Well” said Sid “We are in a graveyard. There’s a whole bunch of potential friends just six feet away. You could be quite the socialite if you wanted”
“I’m afraid I’m a bit shallow. I like my friends to have cartilage”
“You could take up taxidermy and learn plastic surgery. You could even give little Jenny breasts so you look less of a necro-pedo”
“I could do a lot of things. But right now I’m going to have lunch”



“You know, there’s always the chance they got it wrong” Sid said
“Hmm?” Stephens mouth was working away at a large strawberry scented banana. Sid was right; the condoms had kept them fresh.
“Well that was a catholic church”
“Ah, you think it was the Protestants that had it right?”
“As a strict atheist, I think both of them were plotting world domination. But who knows. Hell maybe the Jews had it right. I mean sure they killed Christ and all, but I reckon he’d be a forgive and forget kinda guy”

Stephen swallowed, and unpeeled another banana from its own pulpy coffin “So what you’re saying is, I have to go around and dig up everyone of every religion, to see which of them was worshipping the correct deity?”
“Well yeah. And in fact, to be sure you better dig up a few more in that graveyard. A few more holes is a small price to pay for certainty”
Stephen looked up at the sky. It was past noon.
“Better get to it then” he said

Stephen met many people that day. It was good to see them, all these new faces. Some were old and some were young. There were even a few babies. Seeing them made his eyes rain again. He tried not to touch any and in many cases failed. They were dead but at least they were there. You could see them, and feel them. Their limp lying forms were anchors to reality, and he had been adrift for a while

Halfway through he stopped burying them back in their graves. There were no crows to pick away or worms to burrow in. And a change of scenery was always nice. He laid families next to each other, gently linking lovers’ hands and putting children in mothers’ arms. And his silent audiences watched as he dug up more and more people

Nightfall arrived, and it became too dark to work in. In fact it was only when he stopped that he felt his tiredness, weighing him down like a shroud.
“Seems no one got transferred to first class” Sid said, lying down and holding hands with a particularly pretty corpse.
“Seems so. It’s a very strange thing though”
“To dig up dead folk”
“That the only living things left over are the dead and buried” he yawned, and dropped the worn shovel from his blistering hands. “Something to bear in mind, don’t you think?”



No! He woke up and jumped out of bed. Body was stiff from all the digging and he moved so slowly. But speed was needed. How could he have been so stupid! He rushed out the flat in boxers and trainers, hoping his sudden realization wasn’t true. The nearest bodies were at the catholic church. They had to be! If they were gone then he would never see their faces again. Be able to learn their names and imagine their lives.

Sid appeared, running next to him and covered in yellow fluorescent strips. “What’s the problem man?” he asked.
“If the only bodies are the ones left underground,” panted Stephen. “Then bodies left above ground might disappear”
“Oh no. All your new friends just up and gone. Course that raises the worrying question of who. Who’s gonna go around and take all these corpses away from you man! All your fabulous corpses!”
“I don’t know. I don’t know! I don’t…”

No, there they were in the distance, right where he had left them. Stephen slowed down to a walk and approached them. In the dark they looked like real people. They were real people. Shadows that looked alive and well. It was only when he was standing next to them could he tell that they were still the dead of yesterday.

He stood there with them all, some by happen chance staring back at him. They were waiting for him to do something. Mournful sockets gazing on imploringly. They all looked so lost and alone. He shivered, and remembered he was still in his underwear.

“Well, the fan clubs still here” Sid said. “What an incredible surprise. Time for bed”
“I…I should stay and keep watch” Stephen said. He shivered again
“Well I don’t think we’re quite equipped for a sleep over. And I doubt playing truth or dare will be much fun”
“I’ll run back and get a tent and over night things. You keep an eye on them”
“Sure thing boss” Sid went down on the grass and lay next to a body. “Wanna spoon?” he asked, snuggling up to it.

Stephen turned and ran to the flat as quick as he could. There he grabbed a one man tent, a sleeping bag, some clothes and food. He ran back, and found Sid asleep, his hands wrapped around a body, nestled into some former cleavage. He let him be. Tonight had been a long one. He set up his tent and tried to sleep, all the while listening for the sounds of bodies being dragged away.



“Right” Stephen said. “We need to do some serious thinking about the best way to proceed”
“We could go out and get pissed” Sid suggested. He gave a stiff yawn. The day had broke and nothing had happened. But something could happen and it was important to prevent it from happening.
“First of all” said Stephen, ignoring this. “We need to have some sort of register, so we know exactly how many are here and who they are”
“Fair enough” Sid ran around the cemetery, popping up limp arms and shouting “here” with a few “present” thrown in for variety.
“Also, what about all the other cemeteries and mausoleums and dead peoples places?” He paced back and forth musing out loud “Well, I could just bury them all again. That would keep them safe. It seems impractical to bring them all here. Yet it would be right. All cultural divides gone. Separate registers for separate places? This is turning out to be more hassle than it’s worth”

He stopped pacing. “Right, let’s just deal with the problem in front of us” He got ready a large pad of paper and a pen, which he had had the foresight to bring last night. “Where is Jenny?” he said looking around.
“You buried her. Remember?”
“I do remember” Uncertainly edged into his voice. “It will do no harm to check if she is still here of course”

She was still there, of course. Looking alone in her smashed coffin, dirt covering her delicate decayed face. Stephen felt a pang of guilt at this. He took her out again, gently brushing the soil away, and laid her with the rest. Then he did the same with the father.

He took out his pen and began to write;

Jenny Taylor was a pretty young girl that lived with her father and mother on Cheapside Street. Though they didn’t have much they had each other, which should be enough and in this case it was. But fate saw it fit to take Jenny’s father John from her. And what was left was not enough. Her mother tried her best, and put a brave face on it all. She was such a strong woman, and it amazed many people how she could stand to bear the loss. Jenny however, couldn’t bear it, and her mother found her lying still and cold under the kitchen sink with a bottle of bleach next to her. She had always been a bright child, and was smart enough to know what the pictures on the bottle meant, even at that young age. Though she is gone her memory lives on, dimmed by time but not forgotten.

There. It wasn’t nearly enough; a poorly imagined life to give her death meaning. But it was all he could do.

He turned to John Taylor, flipped to a new page and began writing.

Many people thought John Taylor was a comfort eater. This was unfair as in fact he really did have bad metabolism and big bones. And a weak heart.

“Gonna pen a pulp novel for all these dudes?” Sid asked him, seeing what he had written.
“It will be hard to be around these people if I don’t know them. I never was good strangers”
“Well, you best introduce their selves. I, on the other hand, have gotta go”

Stephen looked up from his work in alarm. “Go? Go where?”
“Today is Monday, or had you forgot?”
“But, but you should stay”
“Christ quit being so needy. I need my me time, just as you need yours” Sid turned his back on Stephen and walked away.
“I don’t want to be alone!” Stephen cried
“Look around man. You aren’t. Now go make up some friends” He turned a corner and was gone.

Stephen stared at nothing for a long time. It seemed very quiet now without Sid. He turned to a body and checked its name against its grave.
“Hey Joe, what do you…” He stopped and felt enormously foolish. And angry. And wrestles. The full enormity of the situation hit him, and his head started throbbing painfully.
“No” he said. “I need a drink”

A while back. Oh a hell of a while back, Stephens’s father had quit drinking. And it was good, at the start. He would help Stephen with his homework, and they went out more together, and money was less of an issue than it normally was. In fact you didn’t even need to enter the house to see that there was a marked improvement. The garden, which while it had all sorts of things growing in it, could never have been called tidy or well kept. Now he father uprooted weeds and raked leaves with a passion.

About a month down the line, things started to go not bad exactly, but not good. His Dad seemed on edge, and couldn’t keep still. This wasn’t a problem at weekends, they simply went out for long walked and played in the park. But on weekdays, Stephens’s dad went to work, which involved “sitting in a small office, staring at a small screen and making a small and unimportant contribution to the world” And when he came home from work he seemed angry. So very angry.

Finally his dad simply got up off his chair one Friday evening, went out, and came back with a crate of beer. There had been no final straw, as far as Stephen could see, no secret drama to surface and rear its ugly, half forgotten head. And by Sunday his dad was back to normal, bashfully apologizing for his “Blow out”

But Stephen remembered it anyway. “Son” His father had told him, slurring his words “I’m no alcoholic. But I do think I need this” He took a sip for emphasis. “See we all need our vices, that’s what makes us usssss” Another sip “And I for one, need a bit of poison inside me, if only so other poisons don’t take hold. Don’t try and hid from your vices, whatever they turn out to be. Far better the occasional indulgence than some kind of excessive binge. Don’t want your wax melting now, do you?”

Stephen held his silver spoon over the candle and laughed. With his free hand he waved his fingers over the flame and then poked at the edge, so hot runny wax clung to him. The pain was so far away it didn’t even register. His hand started to shake and he started to sing;

“Hey fizzle wizzle the cat is the shizzle
The cow humped the blind Raccoon
The little boy laughed until he got raped
And my cokes running over my spoon”

He laughed and tapped the contents of the spoon into his base pipe. Light and inhale. And……Exhale. Bye bye spooky white clouds, you better fucking run. Ghost buster! Doo noo noo. Doo noo noo. I aint afraid of no ghosts. Doo noo noo. Doo noo noo. You know bustin’ makes me feeeeel good. A few more hits and a few more brews and and then a few more brews and a few more hits. Gotta pace yourself, everything in this modern nation must be taken in moderation. Taken at face value and taken from behind. Someone’s got to take it

Stephen staggered about and opened the closet and pulled out Gertrude.
“Ok babe” he said. “I’ll go down on you now, but after that its open season on your orifices” He blew in the amusingly positioned air hole (maybe it was meant to simulated the clit) and giggled as the lack of air made him light headed and almost pass out. When he was done he took a few more pills, carefully avoiding the ones with V on them.
“She want you hard, not stiff” he declared, and got to work.

She felt stranger to his fingers than normal, and he realized that this was because he still had the dried wax on his hand. Funny how fake skin caressed a fake nipple. Maybe he should cover his whole body in wax. Then they’d be a matching couple. He flipped her around and laughed.

“Why do you always do me from behind” she asked him in a pathetic whiney voice. “Don’t you find me attractive?”
“Maybe if you wore some nice clothes I could stand to look at you, bitch”
“You never take me out either”
“But the places I do take you…I know you love” he started going harder and she in turn started moaning. Her head swiveled around 180 degrees so she was face to face with him. “Don’t you love me?” she asked
“No. Now stop staring at me”
She looked hurt and surprised, as she always did. Stephen glared at her.
“I said stop staring! Now let’s put that big mouth of yours to good use” He pulled out and thrust her face into his crotch. Up and down it bobbed. Harder and faster he pushed her head and pulled her hair, until finally he was done.

“That was good” he said, stroking her face tenderly. “Did you enjoy yourself? I even lit a candle to get the mood right”
She was silent. Pearl tears ran down her cheeks.
“Well, if that’s how you feel” Stephen picker her up and carried to the table where the candle was. “Then deep throat this fucker” He lowered her face down to the flame and watched in silent fascination as she melted. Bubbling black fumes bellowed from her mouth and her lips dribbled cum and oil. Stephen felt his grip lesson and his vision darken. The smoke was making him dizzy and queasy. He dropped Gertrude to the floor, who withered as the air escaped from her, and doubled over. Later he had realized how lucky he was that his vomit had put out any flames that lingered, but right now he didn’t hold such appreciations. He collapsed on the ground, naked, covered in sick and lying next to his ruined blow up doll.






“Hate to say so kiddo, but this is a slightly embarrassing way to find you this fair morning” Sid said, standing over Stephen and looking down in faint disapproval.
Stephen tried to speak, coughed up some more vomit instead, and tried again. “Has anything happened to the bodies?” he asked.
“How would I know?” Sid replied, looking a little guilty.
“I need a shower”
“Yes, you really do” Sid held out his hand to help Stephen up. Stephen almost took it, but then resorted to pushing himself off the ground. He collapsed down again and gave a cry of pain. He wiggled and crawled his way to the bathroom, leaving a snail’s trail of colors and textures behind him.

After having lain in a small pitiable heap in the shower for a few hours, Stephen emerged and got dressed. He met Sid in the kitchen and prepared Breakfast.
“And the beast becomes a man” Sid said “I take it things didn’t quite work out between you and Gertrude then” He gestured back to the bedroom, where Gertrude’s face had been melted stuck to the floor.
“I’m afraid not
“Always sad when couples fight. Ah well, better to have loved and lost”
“Than?”
“Than…I dunno, Cancer?”

“No argument there”

Stephen turned on the blender, and winced at the angry noise it made. Too much oats probably, but he wanted the mix thicker than usual. His stomach felt like it could do with an extra lining, like some kind of super tanker. Don’t want the seals to get killed by black gold. He turned it off and took a deep draught. Then he ran to the bathroom again
“Breakfast of champions” Sid called above the retching.

“Right” Said Stephen, after he had finally gotten some breakfast to stay in him. “Let’s try this again” He went outside and was blinded by the gloom. It looked like it was going to rain, and heavily too.
“Man, that’s some pretty major cloudage for mid July” Said Sid, looking up. “I guess there’s something to all this global warming malarkey”
“It does seem ominous”
“You ever finish building that Ark of yours?”
“You know as well as I do that it was abandoned in favor of the wall”
Stephen held out a hand experimentally and a big fat rain drop fell onto it, like a cold kiss. Then another, and another. Soon he was being ravaged by the rain, which ran down him with cold caresses.
“Better get your butt to the cemetery before your new cliques clits get washed away with the rest of them” said Sid



Stephen splashed about in the increasingly muddle grass. The only thing he could think to do was to drag the bodies into the church. He grabbed a pair thin twiggy legs and pulled.
“The animals went in two by two, hurrah, hurrah,” Sang Sid. Stephen looked behind and saw that he had accidently grabbed two separate legs, with the happy couple being towed behind. Oh well, it saved time.

He walked them down the isle and jilted them at the alter, then stumbled back outside. The rain was so heavy that the ground seemed to shimmer and dance. Billions of little landmines going off, tearing limbs of grass and heads of flowers. There was no time to dwell on it though, and he marched forward blindly.

So thick was the curtain of rain that he didn’t see the grave until he fell in it.
“Oooph”
“Damn that’s one big puddle” Sid said “Good thing that fat dude broke your fall”
Stephen looked down at his bloated float and saw tufts of grey read hair. How had John Taylor got down here? He pulled himself up and tried to drag John with him. It turned out though, that fat dead wet men were surprisingly slippery. After several failed attempts he hauled John up besides him and dragged him inside.
“You better hurry up and grab Jenny” Sid cooed from the doorway. “She’s being washed awayyy”

Stephen ran and Sid joined in exaggerated slow motion. They splashed into the rapidly deepening water and Stephen searched frantically for Jenny, eyes roving the sea of corpses. “It’s a bit like trying to find a pube on a wookie” Sid commented “Where do you start!”
“At the beginning” said Sid, looking around methodically in a gird pattern. The key thing was to keep your head. And there was hers, sticking up out of the water like a buoy with a girls face. Stephen went over to it and scooped her up. Fortunately the rest of her was still attached to it. He dragged her in and reunited her with her father in a forced embrace.

For hours it rained and for hours Stephen toiled and tired. His hands grew numb and dead from the wet cold and unfeeling flesh pulled unfeeling flesh towards the church. Soon the water was knee high then soon it was waist high and Stephen was playing deathguard and having to swim. Sid was floating about using a coffin as a raft and paddling about with someone’s foot. Stephen heard him sing.

“Fly low ye carrion crow”
“seize my body for the sins I sow”
“drop me high into the depths below”
“for the things I've seen no one else should know”

Diving under, Stephen tried to remember the rest of the lyrics

It’s just you and me and my rib-caged brain
we polish the brass and we dust the panes
and we lay down fallow like slaveless chains
and they call us sick as though they're all so sane

He surfaced with a deep breath and a torso in his arms. Kicking back to wet land he deposited it at the base of the church

casue i don't have microsoft word

to be revised and finished HEAVILY, so don't spoil it for yerself

Stephen woke up with his eyes closed and listened to the silence. He sighed, rose from his bed and did all the things that one should do in the morning. He washed himself, brushed his teeth, did his morning stretches and dressed. He had a healthy breakfast of fresh fruit and cereal without milk, washed down with a bottle of volvic water. It was important to look after your health. Once finished he cleared away the morning mess and tidied up the flat. He did all of this still with his eyes closed.

Once done, Stephen put on his boots and strode outside and listened very very carefully. He sighed again and opened his eyes. Hmmm, looked like it was going to rain. He went back in and got his jacket. A brief ray of sunshine pierced through the overcast skies and he jogged to the sundial in the garden. 8.30 already. Where did the time go? Normally he would have finished his morning routine by 8.20.He gave himself both a mental and physical shrug and got on with the day. There was so much that probably didn't have to be done but he would do anyway. He cycled into the city for a spot of window shopping and met Sid in Tescos

“Hey man” said Sid. “Want some free expired shit?”
“Always, but nothing that'll make me sick”
“Expiry dates are a myth anyway man. Something cooked up by the government so we waste more food and spend more money to fuel their precious economy” Sid went round back and returned with a packet of bread sticks and a jar of gherkins. “Today is phallic day!” he declared, waving the goods in the air “All phallus shaped foods are free!”
“Oh well, I guess it gives me more choice than inverted vagina day” Stephen said wearily and took the goods. “By the way, isn’t the plural Phalli?
“No. Now fuck off”

The rest of the day passed uneventfully for Stephen. He went to the library and read some books. In the music store he practiced piano and played guitar. And in HMV, he got a few films for the night. Sid was there as well, unsurprisingly in the adult movie section.

“I thought you were working” Stephen asked as Sid thrust a copy of “The Domin-Matrix” at him.
“It was pretty quiet so I left. Anyway, working for a faceless corporation sucks King Kong dong”
“I bet that faceless corporation has a tear running down its faceless cheek right now” Stephen looked at the back of the case. It showed a Neo look alike in a long leather jacket, shades and nothing else. He put it back. It wasn't Monday yet.

A thought occurred to him. It seemed to be happening more and more lately. “Am I gay for not liking lesbian sex?”
“Very. Though I'll be the first to admit a vagina on its own is a bit...bland. And that's why God invented the dildo” Sid continued fondling through the adult films. “Let me know if you see the porno version of high school musical” he added.

Stephen continued his own search for a good movie. Lately he had been quite the film buff, and reckoned he had watched most of those films that everyone had to see before they died. Eventually he settled for The Shining. In his opinion it was the only good Stephen king film, and still didn't measure up to the book.

“You coming over tonight?” he asked Sid
“Do you want me to come over tonight?”
“Do you want to come over tonight?”
“Well I wouldn't want to go where I'm not wanted”
“And I wouldn't want you to do anything you didn't want to”

They both stood there in silence, Sid grinning the whole time. Finally Stephen broke the stalemate. “Come over at eightish...”
“HA!” Sid said triumphantly. “You caved first. I win. You suck. And that’s the way it will be forever and ever and ever” He danced his victory dance, which involved much crotch thrusting and some roboting. Stephen, the epitome of patience, waited for him to be done.
“Now,” he asked when Sid was “would you like dinner?”
“Would you like to make me dinner?”
“Sigh”

Night fell and found the two friends in the flat at the dinner table. Sid Belched and farted so quickly the sounds over lapped each other “Crikey, that was some pucker tucker mate. Better than shrimp on the barbie anytime. And so very phallic...ARR!” Sid had made a hat with corks on strings round it, and had been speaking with an Australian accent since. It was also a pirate hat.“Anyways” he continued through a mouthful of phallus. “What’s tomorrows plan Sheila?”
“Tomorrow is Sunday”
“Already!? Christ in a chiropractor’s matey you gotta give that wallaby a rest already”

Stephen shook his head “It’s a promising avenue, and I'm not exactly in a position to be picky”
“But you go to all of them! You've picked them all!”
“Who's to say who was right in the end?”
“Well given your own unique position, I guess you arrrrrr, Skippy”
Stephen laughed a long slow laugh that some might have called troubled

The next day Stephen rose as early as he could and dressed very plainly and sombrely. He cycled down to the church. At the door he left a modest and meaningless donation, and once inside he began to pray. He used to do it out loud but Sid had followed and made fun of him. Anyway, he had felt wrong doing so. Places like this wanted to be quiet and peaceful.

After he prayed he flicked through one of the bibles. There were answers there, providing you saw them for yourself. He had read it all before anyway, and with growing conviction realised he would probably end up in hell. Confessions and baptisms weren’t exactly options now. There were good stories in there though.

Done, he padded out quietly and headed for the synagogue. Sid was there waiting for him. He was wearing a black hat and a fake beard. “Shalom!” He declared. Stephen sighed. Still it was no worst than when Sid had dressed as “Super Pope! (With the powers of 10 ordinary ordained archbishops!)” He would concede the cape made the whole ensemble work.Stephen had been teaching himself Hebrew, and haltingly made his way through one of the 3 prayers he new, the Shacharit. He tried to ignore Sid who was dancing about singing that song that was always sung at bar mitzvahs on TV. When he was done, his friend approached him with a pained look on his face. “Today isn’t even the Shabbat. And you’re meant to do this everyday. I will not have a wayward black sheep in my flock. So flock off!”“You coming to the Mosque?” Stephen asked.“Nah man, it’s too soon, if you know what I mean”“I think it’s been plenty long enough” Stephen muttered, and walked out.The mosque was, conveniently enough just down the road from the synagogue. He felt it right that they should be so close together. People could learn a lot from the things they built. Reflections of themselves that showed none of their own flaws. His own reflections were doing nothing more than stalling him however, and he went inside.Once in, he took of his shoes and hid them in a corner of the entrance. Then he went to the wash room and cleaned his hands and feet. Finally he went into the prayer hall and, with aid of a compass faced east. Beyond that he knew nothing of how a Muslim service was conducted, and so merely repeated his prayer from earlier.Some time later he left. There, that was all the Abrahamic religions out the way. Time for some Hinduism and pūjā. They let you pick your own avatar of god. Sid’s suggestion of Optimus prime had been considered for some time before Stephen had found a suitable one. He walked to the shrine he had made singing “karma karma karma karma karma chameleon”It was past dark when he was finished and made his way home. There were after all, quite a few religions out there. And the vast majority seemed to suggest that not worshipping them was a sure fire way to end up in fire. On the other hand, they also said something about not worshipping other religions. Stephen had tried to compromise by spending roughly equal amounts of time with each one. And as his Gran had said, don’t put all your eggs in one basket, or she'd suck them.He sat down on the grass outside and looked up at the night sky and the stars. There seemed to be a lot more of them nowadays. Billions of candles on a pitch black cake of nothingness. Would there be anyone around to see them all go out? Hell, would someone blow them out? And if so, would they make a wish?“You’re talking out loud again” Sid said gently from behind. “And talking some amount of shite from what I heard.” He sat down next to Stephen“Comfort in sound. Feeder had it right”“Comfort in conformity” Sid replied. “Look how happy the Nazi’s were, before it hit the fan” He stretched and lay back. “Speaking of which, I’m writing another play”“Called?”“They saved Hitler’s brain!”“Ah, but where did they put it?”“It was so evil it had to be cut into 5 pieces and consumed by the most kindly, good and pure people of the age”.“Such as?” Stephen smiled in spite of his recent dark mood“Ghandi”“He was still alive then?”“Not for long, he was assassinated in 1948. They blamed it on Hindu radicals but in reality it was splinter cell elements of a Nazi plot to resurrect Hitler”“Ah, of course. It sounds intriguing”Sid was all fired up now “That was the first of the Human Hitler seals to be broken. The play is set in present times, where only two seals remain. The Dali Llama, and…me!” He leapt up and struck a pose. “It is up to me, upon inheriting my grandfathers dark legacy, to safe guard his holiness from the sinister machinations of senior Hitler youth members in positions of power cough pope cough"Stephen stood up and went to pat his friend on the back. He stopped halfway though, and let his hand keep raising, where it turned into a yawn. It was getting late. In fact it was so late it was getting early."I'm going to sleep" he told Sid, who had started trying to do handstands on the grass."Plenty of time for that when you’re dead and buried" upside down Sid told him."Depends where you end up, I guess" Stephen began walking home. He thought about what Sid had just said. “Where was Hitler’s body buried?” he called back.“Official reports from The KGB indicated that he was buried in an unmarked grave in Magdeburg. BUT fearing the site to be used as a Neo-Nazi rallying site, a secret operation was conducted and the remains were thrown into Elbe River. Unofficial reports however, reveal a far more SHOCKING truth""Is this all in your play?""Indeed!""Well, if it is half as good as Shakespeare and the Ice pirates...""The musical" Sid added"The musical""On Ice" Sid addedStephen took a deep breath "Well if it is half as good as Shakespeare and the ice pirates on ice the musical" he took another breath "Then I look forward to seeing it. Now good night"After yesterday’s piety, Monday brought with it some mediocre sinning. Stephen woke up and had a wank to set him up for the rest of the day. a while back he had started keeping his own samples, but decided that this was a little weird, and had burned them all. It was a risky business, he thought, to have too much of your semen kicking about. It could end up in some radioactive waste, and then be consumed by a badger. From there the imagination could take you down all kinds of horrible routes and avenues and vicious cul-de-sacks. Of course, it was just common sense to have a few pints of your blood kicking about.The rest of the day was given up to indulgence. He ate chocolates and drank vodka. He watched loads of porn (Pride and Lady-juice, Little red's riding wood) and made some headway (aha) through the erotic novel he had been reading. Towards the end he inflated Gertrude and went through every position in the karma sutra with her, with Barry white playing in the background. Eventually he had had enough of her love babe and lay down, heads sore and spinning.Sid knew to respect Stephens’s privacy on a Monday, It was the only time he did. So he wasn't worried about being disturbed during these disturbing scenes. Sometimes Sid jumped in the shower with him, declaring "We're so manly, we wash together naked!"

The end of the day saw Stephen spent. His penis was like a cliché, tired and over used, and his afternoon boozing had left him feeling very sleepy. Still, it was out of his system now, whatever it was that made him restless and angry regardless of how much healthy exercise he did. He had learned a while back that there was no using wresting with this feeling. He wasn’t strong enough to argue with himself.

In fact a while back things had gotten a bit crazy, and it had taken several crashing come downs from weeks of abuse to convince him to limit such activities to one day a week. It was insane how much booze you could have while on the coke. And so abusive Mondays came about, a day when his super ego hung up its pretentious cape and the iceberg flipped over, Id on top like an overbearing girlfriend.

Christ, the thoughts he had when he was drunk, Stephen thought, inner monologging about himself in the 3rd person. The streams of his consciousness being pissed away from the addled bladder of his brain. Down the drain, no need to flush let the yellow mellow like pus. Wouldn’t it be much better if he was called Gustav? Almost certainly possibly yes and maybe be Spanish to. Not so much to ask and it would be so much better if even zombie Hitler answered with worried buried words. Buried…

Stephen awoke the next day to the sound of Sid singing Bonnie Tyler’s total eclipse of the heart. He kept his eyes closed and saw that he wasn’t that hung over. Then he opened his eyes when Sid jumped on him singing “I fucking need you more than ever!” and realised he was very hung over. Still, it did not do to stay in bed and sulk. It was one of the most endearing memories he had about his father, his stubborn refusal to admit feeling rough in the morning. It summed up the kind of man he was quite nicely.

Forcing himself out of bed Stephen went for a shower, making sure Sid didn’t follow. He turned on the tap, got the temperature right and sat down cross legged in the stall. Those monks were onto something there, he thought. Sitting down and letting the water wash over your head and shoulders, which then foamed up and washed over your head and shoulders. It just felt right, like you were in the womb again or something new agey like that. It certainly was a new age he lived in.

After a good half hour of shower meditating, taking in and depositing fluids (another thing that just felt so right, even though it was quite wrong) Stephen got up. He brushed most the water off and went large. One thing about boozing was that you’d never be constipated. Then again, as he got older, Stephen had an ever growing appreciation for that elusive thing known as a healthy bowl movement. The rushing burning sensation told him that this was not to be one.

He realised something just before he turned to confirm it. Yep, no toilet roll. Only the cardboard tubes he had been saving to make a giant periscope. However, if a man was careful, and peeled away so that thin strips of cardboard came off…

5 minutes later Stephen got back in the shower. It was more hygienic this way, he thought, vigorously applying soap to his hand.

“So, what’s today’s plan?” Sid asked, jumping up and down on the bed. “DVD Box set sex in the city marathon?”
Stephen waved him aside and changed the soiled sheets. When he had made the bed new again, Sid went back to jumping on it.
“A well made bed means your not living” he told Stephen.
“I’m still breathing, so I must be doing something right” Stephen replied.

When he was hung over, Stephen had a routine he would go through to help deal with it. First was the long long shower, followed by the painfully essential shit. Next came the forcing of food he really didn’t want to eat. This was why he used a blender, to make his world famous hangover cure.

The ingredients were relatively simple. First any fruit that happened to be kicking about went in. Then, for the sake of his forsaken bowls he added a good wack of porridge oats. Finally a can of irn bru went in. When the orangey gloopy mix was done Stephen drank it straight out the blender. Taste wasn’t much of a problem given his furry tongue, but holding it down took a bit of concentration.
The next phase of operation hangover was equally simple. He went out for a long walk, savouring the reasonably fresh air this side of town had to offer. As it was a sunny day, he walked to the sundial located six miles away in the woodland heritage sight. He really liked it here, there were several streams running into a river, and the wind made all the leaves rustle and shuffle. It made the whole place seem to bustle with business.

The sundial showed it to be around three o’clock. Stephen sighed. He wished he had cycled. He knew from experience it took about 3 hours to walk here, and that was downhill. His stomach was also reminding him that it was now ready for proper food. The walk had done its job and he felt a good deal better.

Before he left he sang. With all the background noise he didn’t feel so foolish doing so here.

Theres a lotta hush hush these days
No one makin any noise
Everything is just an echo that fades
Everyone is much the same

Where will you go, when everyone is gone?
What will you do, when everything is done?
Nothing is a pretty scary something
At least that’s one thing I’ve been told
At least that’s one thing I know

His voice faded and he walked home.

The next day was a Wednesday. Wednesday was a productive day for Stephen. It was the day when he did creative things. He wrote short stories and poetry, and helped Sid with his play, when he wasn’t being secretive about it. He drew large childlike pictures of elephants with moustaches and sunglasses. There was a giant lego deathstar he had been working on, which approaching house size. Then there were the big projects. Like the green house, full of tomatoes and oranges. Another memory of his dad, telling him that they were thirsty plants, that pouring Coca-Cola helped them grow and that yellow tomatoes were the best.

There was plenty of gardening to be done actually, and a good portion of the day was given up to that. Stephen raked leaves and pruned plants and hoed potatoes. He was beginning to understand why farmers had that deep thoughtful look on their faces all the time. It didn’t take much brainpower to spread (homemade) muck after all, yet at the same time it led to a stern sort of focus. The result was that you diligently concentrated on any problem that might be rattling about your head. As he dug into the ground, his mind began tracing the outlines of a plan. These outlines however, were interrupted when Sid decided to help by pissing on the cauliflowers.

“Thankyou” Stephen told him
“I’m just trying to remind you that the water purifiers need topped up again” Sid replied. “Don’t want to be showering in your own urine like you were on Monday”
“I…better do that then” said Stephen, glad he brushed his teeth three times a day.

The thing Stephen was most proud of working on during creative Wednesdays, was the wall. He sometimes worried about the cliché nature of it. And no doubt psychologists would have a lot to say on the matter. But it was tall and thick and well built. And he liked the collage of different rocks that went into it, often trying to arrange them into shapes and patterns. They felt firm and right between his hands. Yep, the wall was a good solid distraction and he was glad to have it, even with Sid wearing a hard hat and sitting atop it, wolf whistling whenever Stephen bent down and speaking in a poor Brooklyn accent.

“Would you get a load of the bazongas on that! Hey larry! Get up here and check this broad out” Sid put on a different hat “Wow, ve-ry nice! Hey sweet cheeks give us a twirl. I gots somethin to show you babe, and I thinks you gonna like it”

Sid went on like this for another few hours until Stephen tired, showered in fresh water, and went to bed.

The next day was a Thursday, which was given up to doing all the things that Sid wanted to do, dragging a reluctant Stephen with him. And what Sid wanted to do primarily, was smash things. Obviously there were certain things off limit, the flat, the Death star and the wall for instance. But that still left a good deal of targets. Today’s one was the French embassy on the east side of town. It was a rather pretty and scenic building, with a fountain and statues. Sid thought it funny to copy the statues and piss into the fountain. He took out cans of spray paint

“It has always been my dream to vandalise every foreign embassy of every country”
“And what is that?”
“It’s a statement man! To show that all cuntish countries, great and small, that they are all equal and useless in the face of ME”

















(wall spells out something)














LSD-gertrude talkingIt was Sunday again and Stephen once more went in search of forgiveness, redemption, salvation, anything that was on offer. I guess that’s why it’s good to shop around, he thought as he went through the holy motions of the day.In his head he said his tired weary prayer again.You were speaking out loud again“If there are no bodies in the graves, then at the very least we can rule out the rapture. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before“Imagine that, not considering digging up dead folk"I don't really care what anyone thinks about me""what about the people you care about?""I don't care about people""liar"“Aww man you should have seen it. There was this program about binge drinking and liver abuse. And this hot woman on telly said that the liver was the biggest organ in your body yeah. And I said...”
“I'd like to be the biggest organ in her body?”
“Bingo. Just such a damn shame no one was around to hear it”
The last man on earth was a narcissist my necessity. He looked himself over on the mirror. It was a good hair cut, and certainly better than the first few attempts had been. Practice, practice, practice thats all that it took. It was all that was left.