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#2 kirjoitettu 09.04.2006 16:30

Alice

She walked slowly through the long hall and though the music and the faint voices lured her, she paused at a great mirror. Her long white dress clung to her body like a long-lost lover as she made a well-practised gesture as if to touch up her hair.
Gracefully she moved across the hall and the twindoors twice her height opened before her.
Eyes fixed upon her as she stood in the doorway, a frail, delicate flower whose hands were stained by the blood of eight men. No-one could prove she had killed them yet they all knew she was to blame.
First there had been twelve. Now only four remained. The rest had, all in turn, been bewitched by her beauty, enchanted by her charm and devoured by her undying thirst for blood. The same fate waited for those who still lived but only one among them knew what she was.
The night before he had followed her as she left the party with her latest victim, a lanky youth who occasionally tripped on his own two feet. He had followed them, drawn by her gentle voice, and seen things that had scared the bourbon out of his head. Alice, the innocent, helpless girl they had all worshipped, had held the struggling youth down with one hand, silenced his cries with the other and sunk her white, shiny teeth into his throat. Later on that same evening Alice had danced and laughed with the rest of them, her cold hands suddenly warm, her smile revealing no trace of fangs.
”Jack, my love”, her voice spoke by his side though a moment ago she had stood silently on the other side of the ballroom.
”I know what you have seen”, she said and her ice-cold hand took hold of his. Fear brought it's coppery taste in his throat but there was no hate in her bright, green eyes that stared into his piercing his thoughts, breaking his heart. As well as the others, he had grown to love her too.
”Come with me, Jack”, she whispered and tears made her eyes shine brighter, ”and I shall give you a life eternal.”
Though the decision came easily for him, he hesitated. A life immortal by her side frightened him, the need to seek living blood terrified him. But his love was strong, newly born, yet compelling. Love bound him to her, to her fate, to her flaws. Love made him decide to become a vampire.
”Yes”, he said and the brief sadness that flashed in her eyes made his love stronger still.

#3 kirjoitettu 11.04.2006 19:55

The Office
(No, not the “The Office”)

I open the door and step in. I have just entered a small suspicious looking office. I wonder if this is the right place. After all the room is hardly the size of a local tavern’s men’s room and it hardly seems like the office of the owner of a record company. Suddenly an overenergetic man in a suit runs in from the room next door pulling his pants up.
He looks at me and says “Hi and welcome to the headquarter of Divine Bush Records” using that kind of an annoying voice that door to door salesmen use while selling knives or vacuum cleaners or whatever they are trying to sell, “You must be… that guy… from… that band… thing”
Before I have a chance to say anything he continues “I’m Ian Varda, the owner of Divine Bush Records… well technically the Co-Owner, but the other owner is currently in jail so I’m pretty much the boss here. You probably remember me from the bands Kuolleet Kekkoset and Tentacle Superstar.”
“No I don’t think so, but…” I reply, but he interrupts me.
“Are you sure? Dragon was quite big. You know… the song” He says and starts singing “mountain (mumble) something (mumble) dragon… well whatever. Enough chat… It’s business time!”
“Mr. Varda I’m…”
He interrupts me again. “How does this sound to you? We release your album and we get 60% of however much money it makes.”
“No, Mr. Varda, I’m…”
“Okay lets make it fifty-fifty.”
“Mr. Varda…”
“Okay, you seem like an excellent negotiator… Lets say we get 10% leaving you the 90% and you also get… um… an coupon for the barbershop next door… it’s… umm.. a free haircut” he says and reaches to his wallet, “Oh, sorry seems we’re all out of coupons so lets say you get the 90% and… my lunch. This burrito here… I’ve only eaten half of it. There’s a microwave at the barbershop next door. Tell them Ian sent you and they’ll let you use it.”
He looks me in the eye and continues “Now, you’ve just got to admit that this is an excellent offer.”
“Yeah I suppose so, but…” I say, but again he interrupts me.
“Good, then we have a deal!”
“Mr. Varda, I’m a repo man.”
“That’s quite a bad name for a band. We’ll have to change it”
“No, Mr. Varda, I’m from the repo-depot”
“I like that one better, but it’s too ‘80s… How about… Repo Coalition? Don’t you just love that name?”
“Well, I suppose, but…”
“Good, lets have a drink.” He says and pulls out a bottle of whisky “This is the finest whisky from our own brewery.”
“Wait, I thought you were a record company?” I ask, although I probably should be explaining I’m a real repo man and not a musician from a band called Repo-Depot.
“We’re all kinds of things. We are a record company and a brewery. We also had a couple of restaurants before we had a small misunderstanding with the health inspector, but I’m sure our restaurants will be back in business in no time. Personally I’m also an real-estate salesman and an unlicensed funeral director… Here, have my card” he says and reaches to his wallet again, “Oh I seem to be out of business cards. Oh well… You wouldn’t happen to be interested at selling your house by any chance, would you?”
“Umm… no… not really” I reply a bit confused.
“Oh well, nevermind then… Now for the drinks”
He takes a sip from the bottle, looks around and says “Goddammit, there go the lights! They can’t cut the power without a two week notice. That’s in the damn contract!” sounding quite pissed off.
I decide not to taste the whisky.
“Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow” I say and leave. I hope the poor man didn’t go permanently blind because of his home-made booze.

When I come back the next day the office is empty and there is no sign of anyone. Goddammit, I feel so stupid. I can’t believe I fell for that trick again.

#4 kirjoitettu 11.04.2006 21:43

Big City Nights for Dumbasses

Being a cab driver is not the easiest thing in the world to do. Especially when there's a local "marketing chief boss head-of-the-company" shithole crashing into my vehicle completely wasted, mumbling with a strong scent of booze: "Few blocksshh shouthwesshhthh to the biggesth fuckhin' skyscrbr...paper in townah, thankshpleashe". The "chiefs" are the worst customers ever, but I don't really give a shit, because I've been working this driving thing out for twenty goddamn years, so I've seen everything for many times. I just drive the bastard where he wants me to.

Driving around the city for some extra miles (he told me to), I must listen to the whole life story, hearing "I reelly have shitloadss of moneeh" in every other sentence he forms from his filthy mouth. Almost every chick he has been making love to - I hear them all. Including my wife Helen. That's OK, I've heard that before. He really doesn't realize I'm her husband - well, at least, I was - so he keeps on repeating "Sshee's gott de biggest crazy-ass titties I've ever zeen" on and on. I know she has. They sure are beautiful.

The time he passes out, I drop him in front of some sleazy motel, letting him find himself in the morning lying on dog's crap, suffering from a terrible hangover and an ego breakdown. I've been considering a bad beat-up since I found out he'd been banging my wife's bongos, but I'm a peaceful guy.

So, I just take a leak on his ear when he's lying unconscious on the ground and live my quiet life with a smile on my face.

#5 kirjoitettu 22.04.2006 22:02

I Suck In Planning Plans.

Shit.
I knew the plan was not going to work. Though I tried my best to prevent getting busted, I screwed up my evil master plan. Again.

It was a friday evening, sun was shining just above the horizon in the colors of red and orange. The house was empty. I thought to myself:
- I can't waste this opportunity... This might be the only chance for months! So, I slowly checked all the cameras and stuff and they were ok.
- Nothing can ruin my intentions now when I have developed this excellent invention, I thought. I had designed them by myself in order that I could keep an eye on all doors in the house and the yard. Now you'll ask:
"Why in the fuck he does place cameras in the whole building?"

I had palced the cameras because this was the night when the house was empty. This was the night which I had been waiting for. But, as you already know, my evil master plan leaked. I checked the cameras one last time and went to the room where I could at the same time watch the yard and the doors and carry out the plan.

I started.

I got further and further.

I got near.

Then came the voice. From nowhere. "I SEE YOU MASTURBATING!!!

First I was shocked but then I realized. You can run away from humans. You can run away from everyone and everythin but you can't hide from the God. This was the third time I got caught and I knew what that means.

So, now I'm sitting in my room, depressed and hopeless. I have a gun in my hand and when I see the car driving back to our garage, I do it. I feel relieved and calm, becouse I know that living with "Three times" would be much, much worse than this. I pull the trigger.

#6 kirjoitettu 23.04.2006 15:14

(some old retarded shite but I might as well post it here)

"Neon Lights"


He entered his lair, also known as Riefenstahlstrasse 30 b 12 and, looking around, noticed that there was no new mail. A sarcastic "Surprise!" escaped his lips. It was time for the highlight of the evening: taking a warm shit. After that, some food and a 16-hour nap. "Ahh, isn't life wonderful?" The following day he'd wake up as happy as ever before, oh yes indeed!

He examined his fingers while worshipping the porcelain altar. They had a lot of little cuts and bruises as a result of his job at the local post office. He browsed through the events of the day. A mild, uncertain smile visited his cheeks but was soon gone. He rose up without applying any wipe-and-scratch measures to his bottom, which might not be extraordinary for many a single male. In this case, however, it meant that something serious had happened.

"No more of this shit! I'm done!" The man who had been so well composed just a minute ago seemed now as if he was going to light aflame. Standing erect with excrement on his buttocks, he zipped his pants and ran outside. On the way out he caught a glimpse of the nearby hamburger restaurant from his window. "Shimmering neon lights..."

It had started raining, as it always does when something special is about to happen.

Mr. Kaffel, his boss, lived a perfectly happy life in a large detached house just outside the city. The man in the coat beheld the surroundings and the castle. "He should've painted it pink; his life must be so gay", grunted he, laughing at his own joke. Having laughed enough he turned his attention to more serious things. "The real fun is just about to start. Suffer."

The would-be cult figure threw a Molotov cocktail in through one window. Then another, then another and more and more until he got bored. Horrified screams emerged from the house. His subconscious recommended a change of scene; soon he found himself in his apartment again. All this suburban terrorism made him rather sleepy, so it was time for that 16-hour nap he'd promised himself.

For the first time in years he woke up refreshed and delighted. "What a splendid day! Time to celebrate! I still have some gasoline left!"

When the Polizei finally managed to breach his flat's door, little was left of his corpse - it was but a charred black mass of reeking flesh that resembled bread crust. Still somewhat visible on his face was a crooked smile. Outside the neon lights kept on shining.