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.