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Picture the scene if you will...

It is far in the future. Spacetravel has become the norm for humanity. The United States Space Corps monitors the solar system... We are in a spacecraft and there is an alarm sounding.


A voice comes over the communications console. "You are being held in a tractor beam by the USSC. Our weapons are locked on your craft. Any attempt to arm weapons will be seen as an act of aggression and will be dealt with by the use of deadly force."

A figure jumps out of a recessed bunk and runs towards the main console. "Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shitty fucking shit!" It shouts as it runs.

A head pops out of the recessed bunk and questions the noise. "Wha?" It says sleepily.

"It's the fucking USSC, we have to dump the cargo! If we get caught with all this contraband on board we'll spend the rest of our short lives in the Martian penal colony." Says the person poking buttons on the control panel.

The female in the sleeping bunk speaks. "Calm down will you, we don't have any contraband." She pulls on a vest and walks to where a seemingly calm man is sitting at the main flight console. "No contraband? He says.
"No. Not that it would matter if we did. You running up the middle of the ship shouting that we have to dump all the contraband would give it away to their audio sensors." She said.
"I know, I just like the feeling of knowing I just made their sensors go into overdrive." He said as she kissed him and sat down next to him.

"So Stockton, what do we do now?" The woman said.
"We wait for these swine to let us go about our business. Until then we are trapped. Like fucking wharf rats..." Stockton said.
"Wharf rats? Where the hell have you ever seen a wharf rat?" She asked.
"I haven't ever seen one... I just thought I had to say it."

The voice of the USSC came over the communication console. "Our scanners detect nothing out of the ordinary. Thank you for your patience. Please do not arm your weapons on the powering down of our tractor beam as this will be seen as an act of aggression and will be dealt with by the use of deadly force. Have a nice spaceday."

Stockton looked out of the spaceship and saw the planet beneath them above the craft. This always unsettled him for some reason. He flicked a switch on the console and the craft rolled gently over so that the ground, many hundreds of miles below them, was directly beneath his feet. He pressed a button and up popped a beertube. "Just another day floating in space with my woman." He thought.

His woman was sitting in the seat next to him and she was busy pressing buttons and scanning readouts. "We need supplies." He said. She was engrossed in her readouts and he had to repeat himself. "We need supplies." He said. Again.

She looked up at him and smiled. "We can stock up when we get to the next planet. Don't worry about supplies." She said. "Even at impulse power we are never more then a weeks traveling to the nearest planet. Besides, in this space region the USSC patrol the area regularly and if for some reason we get into trouble they can get to us quickly."

"It says here there is only enough beer for two weeks." He said as he pushed a button on the console.
"Yes, that's if you drank at a constant rate of 1 can per minute for the whole two weeks, I doubt even you could drink that much." She replied.
"You never know. Remember I've already seen the ice fields of Neptune, I may become bored." Stockton replied.
"And if you become bored on our honeymoon I'll kill you and dump your body in space." She said as she smiled at him.

Stockton pushed a switch on the console and the spacecrafts engines pushed them out of orbit and on their way to Neptune. The flight computer chirped into life. "Good day to you. All systems are running at 100% and we are destined for Neptune. Flight time at current rate of speed is 22hours 15minutes and 37.5seconds. Auto pilot engaged."

Stockton turned and looked at his new bride. "Well, what should we do now?" He said.
She laughed as she stood up and began stripping out of her clothes as she walked to the sleeping quarters. He smiled and followed her.

Half an hour later they were lying in each others arms getting their breath back when an alarm sounded in the main control room. "What the hell is it now?" He said as he pulled on his trousers and made his way to the console room. "I'll bet you any money it's the USSC again." He said as he walked along the short corridor.

As he approached the main console room he saw a bright wave of purple light sitting in space directly ahead of the ship.

"Computer." He said as he sat in the pilot seat.
"Online." Said the computer.
"What the fuck is that?" Stockton said.
"Restate." Said the computer.
Stockton cursed under his breath and wondered why he had paid for the ship to have his custom syntax loaded to the computer when it didn't work. "What is the purple swirly thing in front of the ship?" He said.
"Scanning" The computer said. "Scanner detects no anomaly." It continued.
"Then why is the alarm sounding." Stockton asked.
"The alarm sounding is your wake up call." The computer said.
"But I was already awake." Stockton stated.
"Alarm call was not cancelled." The computer said.
"Cancel all wake up calls." Stockton said. "Now rescan and tell me what the big purple swirly thing is." He continued.
"Scanning. Scan detects no anomaly." The computer said.

"Ali, you better get up here!" Stockton shouted to his wife, who was just walking into the control room.
"What the hell is that?" She said, as she noticed the anomaly in space ahead of them.
"The damned computer doesn't detect anything. It says it's not there." Stockton replied.
"Computer, scan on all frequencies space co-ordinates directly ahead." Ali said.
"Scan detects no anomaly." The computer said.

"So what do you think?" Stockton asked.
"Go around it." Ali replied.
"Balls to that, lets fly right through the bugger!" Stockton said. He banged his fist on the console and yelled at the computer. "Computer! Increase forward thrust!" He screamed as he began laughing.

The craft accelerated towards the purple light in space. And vanished.

The following screed has me confused.
How about you?
(Leave a comment.)


He stepped onto the stage and faced the crowd as the sounds of Jimi Hendrix played over the PA system.

"Alright, alright, alright, alright." He said, as the music faded. "I just like that song and they got a better stereo than I do, I don't do anything with it, sorry, personal indulgence totally. I got a really shitty stereo, I brought my Dylan tapes down here, you know he sings? I mean this opened up a whole new fucking world, all these years I'm buying his albums, G chord, C chord, G chord, C chord. What kind of genius is this? There's lyrics, some quite profound, I think he has potential."

He scanned the small crowd that had come to see the show. The gathered faces had no meaning to him, they were merely faces. A woman in the front row had a book placed on the table in front of her. She was a vision to him. His heart beat faster and he fell in love with her for the rest of his lifetime.

He was that kind of person. The kind who loves so intensely that all relationships were doomed from the start. Sure; It was a fine and high music for the first few months, when each person wants the other to absorb the spirit of them so deeply that a connection is made for eternity, but a love that burns so bright dies with a giant explosion after a short while.

The Fear took control and his protective shield came up. "I'm glad you've brought a book in case the show bores you. Very nice, I hope you all brought reading material with you, if not we can pass Juliet around the room... Anyone at any point feels like you wanna read Juliet..."

The defense mechanism had kicked in and had almost alienated this woman to the point where she was no longer a threat to his heart. Her spirit, however, wasn't so easily killed and she countered by informing him "It's big in Montreal."

The Fear made the decision to kill her fighting spirit once and for all. "It's big in Montreal, oh I love Montreal, is that where you're from? Let's get back to my show. I... Uh... End of... Uh... End of audience participation. Now... I'm not that quick on my feet you know, it's an, it's an illusion.

He knew he wanted to be a comedian at an early age and, of course, had started performing at school to make the days go by a little easier... A little better... A little funnier. Little did he realize that the slim unassuming boy he was, would grow up to have his name mentioned in the same sentence as such comedy legends as Lenny Bruce and Richard Pryor. And yet, if you asked the Average Joe, very few would be able to tell you who William Melvin Hicks was.


Bill Hicks is a hero to me and that last paragraph is an example of how much I feel like I know a man whom I've never met, who died when I was young and whom I never saw perform live. Heroes are like that. If you have them, they're more than a person to you, they are a God. Their spirits live on and they inspire you to be All That You Can Be. They become a domineering sotto voce in your head and you think "What would (Insert hero/heroine here) do if he/she was in this situation?" when you're faced with a quandary you cannot think of a solution to.

Or they are to me anyway. And why is that? Well, it's because I'm not really a fan of Bill Hicks, I'm a disciple. I'm way beyond mere fanaticism. I'm, over the edge, this guy is The Messiah, stonewall crazy for Bill and all that He created.

I've read countless tributes to Bill Hicks on the internet, I've read books on him, I've been to see shows about him, I've spent years tracking down every obscure bootleg there is, I've bought his stand up shows on CD, video and DVD, I've listened to his shows so many times I could happily quote his shows line for line and still I've not had enough.

But Why? What is there about Bill Hicks that makes me want to know all there is to know about him? Well, in order to try to figure this out we'd have to get into some really painful shit about me. And I'm not sure if I'm up for that at this moment in time...

"Time huh?" Says the small sotto voce of Bill in my head. "I thought you'd figured out that time doesn't exist. Shit, I hinted at it enough."

"Please Bill, not now, I'm trying to figure out why I idolise you. These people don't want to read about how I think you inhabit my soul and make me say rude, terrible things to people... Just for the laughs." I say aloud, as I sit wondering where the fuck this will all end.

"So you don't want to talk about things that may cause you to feel a negative emotion?" Bill says.
"No, I don't like negative emotions, I scar easily and the scabs take a long time to heal." I say.
"Hahahaha, I used to be like that. God how awful. Maybe you'd like to talk about something else?" Bill asks.
"Yes please." I reply.
"Tough shit bubba. There ain't no such thing as a negative emotion, an emotion is always positive. You're perception is all fucked up. Take my death for example... From your perspective me dying was a bad thing, it caused the negative emotion of sadness in you to take over for a while but you adjusted to it and now you use my inspiration to make you a better person. Negative became positive." Bill stated.

I tried to continue writing the thing that I had started but Bill kept interrupting me so I quit trying to write and went for a shower. I stood under the warm spray of water and wondered where the fuck I was headed. Was this episode the beginning of a full on breakdown? Was it the first sign? Is this a portent that has come to inform me that I have gone too far over the edge and am now entirely at the whim of the Grand Whazoo?

Only the Grand Whazoo knew the answers to these questions so I tried to stop thinking about these horrible things. The thoughts continued, as they always do. Even when I am sleeping, and I am in the world of dreams where everything is possible and anything is accomplishable, I still question every little thing that pokes at the part of my brain that causes me to question what is real.

I attempt to shut off the constant whisper of the voices within by concentrating on a tune and I begin to whistle. As the whistle makes way to a hum, the hum becomes a voice, the voice becomes an impression and Mick Jagger begins to sing. "AAI kaint geyt no... Sa Tis Factshun. AAI kaint geyt no gurly akshun, but I tried an a tried and a tried and AAH tried, AAI kaint get no. Satisfactshun."

I laugh at my twisted and contorted face in the mirror. I have my bottom lip stuck out and have my hands resting on my hips with my elbows behind my back. I look like a man doing an impression of a chicken. There must be something that causes these things to happen to me but after many many years of consideration I'm fucked if I can figure it out.

Such has it always been with me. From an early age I have shunned ideas on what is Right and Good from other people and have followed their advice very rarely. I have shunned the idea of conformity and I've loved it all. I'm the atypical Rebel Without a Clue. I have no direction in life and have no desire to drive myself to become career minded. Clear minded would be nice, but career minded is an anathema to me.

Humour keeps me going. It is my sunlight, my CO2, my Fuel. Like a fine spray of petrol in the chamber of an engine, laughter makes my engine run. Hearing someone laugh makes my engine go from idle to racing as quick as a GT40 tearing away from the lights on the main drag on a Saturday night in any village, town or city in the industrialized nation.

But humour is a dangerous fuel. As fuels go humour is on a par with the nitromethane that they use to make top fuel dragsters go from 0-300mph in the blink of an eye... Sometimes the engine makes it to the end of the strip, the driver gets a massive adrenaline buzz and the watchers get to Hear The Beast unleash its fury.

And sometimes, the engine blows...

The engine will spew out its oil all over the track, the nitromethane will combust as the sparks of the chassis grinding along the track come into contact with it and the pistons will smash against the top of their precision hewn cylinders. The car will slide out of control and the driver will close his eyes and pray.

Comedy can be much the same. Bill Hicks knew this and did it anyway. Why?

"It beat having a proper job." Said the voice of bill in my head. "Now I got a question for you. What the fuck are you analyzing all this shit for?"
"I'm fucked if I know Bill." I thought. "I just had the line "He stepped onto the stage and faced the crowd" and it spiraled out of control from that point."

"Selah." Said the voice of Hunter S Thompson.


Ok you fucker, you asked for it.

Due to public pressure there now follows a short story.

Title undecided.
A short story by Ross Douglas.

The sound of the surf awoke him, as it always did, by lapping at the shore just outside the beach hut. He called it a beach hut even though it was nothing more than an old run down shack that had once been home to twenty chickens and a large family of wharf rats.

Some of the wharf rats occasionally popped back to visit him, keeping him awake and alert as he sat armed with a baseball bat and a bottle of rum. It was a fine bat he always thought, and a finer rum. The chickens however, had been removed by the local authority as the hut wasn't fit for them to live in.


The local authority had always been something of an enigma to him...

They took the chickens out of the hut and had them put into better conditions but they refused to do the same thing for him. It seemed to him that his complaints fell on deaf ears. Even though he knew it was damn near impossible not to hear his complaints. After all he'd stood outside the local authority offices and shouted his complaints through a bullhorn for a week and a half before the authority had an injunction brought out against him. He was told that if he stepped within 150 yards of the local authority offices he would be arrested and thrown into jail.

"Even the fucking criminals in this god-damned rat infested shithole are living in better conditions than I am!" He screamed as the local sheriff dragged him away from the courthouse.

The local sheriff had known him since they were kids and they still went out to the beach and had a few beers while they fished for aholehole. "Jesus, Stockton, when are you gonna get your shit together and get a job?" The Sheriff asked, as he dragged the kicking and screaming Stockton over to the squad car and manhandled him into the backseat.

"Just you wait man, one of these days I'll burn that fucking courthouse to the ground and piss on the smoldering ashes of its ruins." Stockton said, as he rubbed his forehead where it had clattered against the roof of the squad-car as the Sheriff threw him into it.

"If you keep making threats like that in public they're gonna have you certified insane and locked in the nuthouse." The Sheriff said, as he started the car and began the drive back to the beach hut. "At least then I'll be nice and comfortable on the padded floor. Do you think I could get them to pipe in some good music and lay some of those good strong drugs on me?" Stockton said, as he began laughing.

They drove along the beach road towards where Stockton called home and he asked when they were going to be able to throw some lines, catch some fish and drink beer and rum until they fall over. "Time has moved on Stockton, we aren't kids anymore, I've got responsibilities." The Sheriff said, as he turned off the tarmac and onto the dusty road that led to where Stockton lived. "Fuck responsibilities Jim, life is too short to worry about shit like that. There's a whole god-damned ocean full of fish out there man, we owe it to ourselves to catch the buggers." Stockton said.

They pulled up outside the beach hut and Jim got out to open the door of the squad car so that Stockton could get out. Stockton rubbed his forehead as he walked towards the hut. "If you keep throwing me into the back of that squad car like that I'm going to be brain damaged." He said. "Stock, you're already brain damaged." The Sheriff quipped.

Stockton walked into the beach hut, opened his cooler and fished out a couple of Coors. He threw one to Jim and popped the can open, taking a long drink out of it. He belched loudly as Jim stared at the can in his hand. "Stockton you know I'm not supposed to be drinking on duty."

"Duty? What duty?" Stockton asked.
"My duty to the people of this island." Jim replied.
"Let me ask you something man, am I a citizen of this island?" Stockton asked.
"What kind of question is that to ask man, you know you're a citizen of this island. Even if the local council would prefer you weren't."
"Then your duty is to me. Now drink your beer and shut up...


Today there was no way he was going to go to the courthouse. He had things to do. There had been a big storm out in the middle of the ocean and the waves were coming into shore in sets of four and were six to ten feet high. And rising. He threw his legs out the side of the foldaway cot that he laughingly termed as a bed and stood up. His head was thumping and as he moved from the cot to the door he stubbed his toe on the reason for his headache.

Stockton picked up the empty rum bottle and threw it across the room. It thumped against the wooden wall opposite him and dropped to the sand floor. "Shame" He thought. He loved the sound of something smashing. It had been that way since he was a kid. The sound of something smashing or breaking seemed to be music to his ears... His favorite melody for mortality... His chorus to cessation... His rhapsody to ruination.

He stumbled across to the cooler and opened it. It was empty. This was Ok though, he always kept a stash of beer buried in the sand just outside for emergencies such as this one. He stepped outside into the warm sun and walked to the corner of the hut. He stood facing the large palm tree that grew just above the shoreline and counted off fifteen large steps in it's direction. Then he turned towards the water and counted off ten more steps. Then he dropped to his knees and began scraping sand away with his hands.

As he was digging franticly in his search for the beer-stash he didn't notice the blonde girl who was walking along the beach towards him. He was taken completely by surprise when she spoke to him. "Aren't you a bit old to be making sand castles?"

"Holy fuck!" He yelled, in surprise. "What the hellfire are you doing sneaking up on someone like that? Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?" He continued. She was standing with the sun behind her and he had to shield his eyes. She laughed at his outburst and stepped to the side so that her shadow fell across his face.

His breath caught in his chest as he saw her. She was tall and slender and her hair swooped gracefully in the morning breeze. Her eyes were a deep blue and she had a smile that could melt an iceberg at over half a mile. Instantly he was in love. He knew at that moment he wanted to marry her and spend the rest of his life making love with her.

"I... I... I" He stuttered. He regained the power of speech the moment she smiled at him. "I'm sorry I yelled, I didn't see you. You gave me a shock." He said rapidly as he stood up. As he stood his foot slipped into the hole he had dug in the sand and he lost his balance and tumbled into a heap. "Oh shit!" He said, as he fell and she began laughing again.

She offered him her hand and helped him to stand up. As her hand touched his he felt his heartbeat quicken. "So, do you often dig holes in the sand for no apparent reason?" She asked.

"I've lost something." Stockton replied, as he tried to figure out how to keep this beauty from ever leaving him. "Did you drop it here?" She enquired.
"Actually, I buried it here. Or at least I think I did." He said.
"Is it a big chest of treasure?" She asked, in a sarcastic tone of voice.
He realised he must be a sight to behold. After all he did look like he had fell out a palm tree. "It's a treasure beyond cost at this present time." He said, not forgetting his head was banging like the bass drum during a drum and bass concert.

"Perhaps I miscounted." He said. He walked back to the corner of the hut and counted out ten paces towards the palm tree and fifteen towards the shore. She watched with a fascinated curiosity as he dropped to his knees and began scraping away sand. His hand hit the top of a can and he dug the six pack out of the sand.

He pulled a can off of the ring of plastic that held the pack together and offered it to the blonde. "Beer?" He asked.
"It's covered in sand." She said.
"I can cure that." He said. He quickly walked into the hut and dipped it into the water that had gathered in the cooler from the melted ice.

"They're quite cold. The sand keeps them chilled." He said as he opened the can and handed it to her.
"Isn't it a bit early to be drinking beer?" She said as she watched him drain the can he had opened for himself.
"What time is it?" Stockton enquired.
"It's eight thirty in the morning." She said.
He opened another can and took a drink. "It's midnight somewhere." He said. "Cheers."



Regular readers of this blog...

Will probably sigh and bang their heads on their collective desks and wonder why I'm about to stumble into another story that I never finish. And to defend myself, I can say only this...

"A big guy did it and ran away, there was a fire, earthquake, flood... Take your pick, just realise that it's not my fault!"

I'm not sure if I should get your hopes up by posting it up on here, only to drop it like a shit covered marshmallow in a couple of days time. If you would like to read it then please leave a comment saying "Show us the fucking story you lazy cunt!"

(Only this response will merit a yes vote so no poofing out and just writing "Yes, post it." Or anything else for that matter.)



I'm fine. How are you?


I've never been to Hawaii but I've always wanted to visit there after watching Blue Hawaii. Which, for those not au fait with the canon of Elvis Presley, was a film starring The Big E as an island native (Chad Gates) who returns to the islands after serving in the Army to find that his parents want him to start working in the family pineapple company. Chad has other plans though, surfing, spending time on the beach chasing women being top of the list.

As films go it's pretty shit... That's Elvis films for you. Big piles of steaming shit from start to finish... But, the scenery of Hawaii more than makes up for the fact that Elvis couldn't act his way out of a wet paper bag.

Whenever I hear Hawaiian sounding music I see lush mountains, perfect waves and happy smiling people in my mind. And this is especially true today as I got my grubby little hands on a copy of Facing Future by Israel "Bruddah Iz" Kamakawiwo╩╗ole.

Bruddah Iz's voice has kept me smiling as I went about my day today. The only problem is that the album is mostly sung in Hawaiian... It's full on "Waanna licka pee pee, makey wanna lay ooo" stuff... I don't speak Hawaiian but I don't give a fuck. This guy could sing the ingredients for a packet of Cheese Doritos and it'd sound like God was whispering in your ear.

To get a hold of a copy for yourself, and I highly recommend you do, Click Here to listen to some samples or to order a copy of Facing Future.

Malaho nui Iz...


I carry the weight of the world on my shoulder.

Which is probably why I'm to be sent for physiotherapy to sort it out.


Oh well, so it goes sometimes. Occasionally you struggle and win, other times you struggle and The Grand Whazoo kicks you in the ass and fucks your shoulder. The Grand Whazoo does that once in a while just to see how you'll cope.

Will I cope? Of course I will. The Grand Whazoo will have to get up very early to get me down.

Just a quickie...

I'm off to the doctors soon so this post will only be a small one.

The reason for the visit to the doc's is that my shoulder is still fuckola'd and I need to have it sorted out. After the doc's I'm meeting up with my friend Yvoone as she has a job interview with my friend Oswald and wants me to go along for moral support.

After the doc's and Yvoone have been dealt with I'll be popping along to visit my friend Steff.

Smile. Life is good. Especially when you consider the alternative.

For the past three days...

I have been otherwise engaged with modding my new mobile.

I've managed to delete all the unwanted ringtones, got rid of all the wallpapers that come as standard, got shot of the text on the screen that spoils the look by writing Orange across the top of the screen and I'm currently trying to find a way to upload new skins.

Getting to grips with flashing and flexing are next on my list of things to learn.


Fuck Bono, Fuck (RED) and if you think it's a good idea... Fuck you.

Lord, the monkeys are all clamoring to join (RED).
Lord, why do they do this?
Lord, can you please send someone to tell them it's merely Bono's attempt have his dick sucked by the collective...


Oh shit, That'd be me then eh Lord?

Damnit. Why do I always get the job of poking the hole in the dyke? (That's a rhetorical question Lord, don't even think about making a lesbian joke out of it. At this moment in history it wouldn't go down too well...)


Does it really seem like such a great idea this (RED) thing? You buy a product and a small part of the money you pay goes to fight AIDS in Africa. On the one hand it's a good idea to have money go to fight AIDS but on the other hand is it really necessary to buy a (RED) product to do so?

Lets take a look at one of the (RED) products...

Click here.

So you buy the (RED) phone and Motorola makes a £10 donation to the (RED) cause. All is well and good you think. But, not really. Wouldn't you be better off giving the cost of the phone itself to a charity that fights AIDS? I think you would.

Surely a donation to an AIDS charity would be a better thing in the long run? Of course it would. Far more lives could be saved by your £60 donation (the cost of the (RED) phone itself) than the £10 donation made by Motorola because you bought one of their products.

If Bono really wants to fight AIDS in Africa then why doesn't he turn over the royalties of one of his albums to the cause? I'll tell you why, because then he wouldn't be able to have his dick sucked by the collective.

Fuck Bono, fuck (RED) and if you think it's a good idea, fuck you too. Keep taking the little blue pill and thinking that you are making a difference. But allow me to let you in on a little secret...

You ain't.

You are merely funding Bono's personal crusade and are filling the pockets of HUGE global companies who are using the (RED) cause to sell you shit you don't really need in the first place.

Have a nice day.

This review...

Was removed from

And I quite like it so I'm posting it on here.

Charlotte Church

Charlotte Church


Should I be worried?

I don't like George W Bush. Anyone who knows me personally will, I'm sure, attest to this.

And that's fine... I'm more than happy to tell people I think that George W Bush is a raving madman. I'm overjoyed to let people know I think George W Bush is a...
"War-lovin-coke-snorting-drunk-driving illiterate monkey boy."
I'm also more than happy to say that I think George W Bush and his war on terrorism is possibly the biggest threat to world peace at this moment in time. Furthermore, I'm delighted to inform people that if someone were to blow a big hole in George W Bush I wouldn't shed a tear.

So it is with sympathy I read the story of young Julia Wilson who was questioned by the FBI because of a picture she posted on Julia (14) posted an image of George W Bush on myspace that made a threat towards Bush.

Here's the image for those of you who'd like to see it.

*Image (c) CBS5.

Despite the fact that this was posted by a 13 year old, Julia was 13 at the time of posting, the FBI saw fit to interview Julia without a parent present. Anyone else think this was a bit OTT? I do.

While I'd like to make it perfectly clear that I do not condone the killing of anyone for any reason I would like to make it known that I sympathize with Julia's anger towards Bush. Anyone with half a brain should be angry at Bush and his hijacking of the 9/11 tragedy to push forward his invasion of Iraq.

To read some more on this story click here. Or here.

Whatever happened to the right to freedom of speech? It's gone John...

Along with the right to freedom to protest and the rest of the rights Americans lost with the inception of the Patriot Act. Also gone is Habeas Corpus (the right to challenge detention) after Bush's administration suspended it a couple of days ago with the introduction of the The Military Commissions Act of 2006. For the official Whitehouse report on the signing of the act click here.

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the NWO. Resistance is futile.

Going going gone...

After just under five hours in my bed, with the lights off and a pillow over my head, my headache is gone. Almost. There is still a small lingering pain but it's more of a small tap on a snare drum than the thump of the bass drum that it was earlier.

My shoulder is still less than perfect but I've got another appointment with the Doctor on Monday so I'll see about that then. Other than that I'm perfect.


Thump Thump Thump...

I have the headache to end all headaches. And I wasn't drunk or out my tits on anything last night.

If I was stoned or had been out on the razzle last night I wouldn't mind the headache so much. At least then there would be a reason for the pain in my cranium. I'd suffer it with a smile on my face, well, not so much a smile as a grimace but you get the idea.

In order to battle the hammering headache I have taken a couple of co-codamol. The worst thing about taking those demonic little pills is that they make me feel awful. It's almost like the feeling that you get when you have had too much to drink and have a wee shot on the roundabout in your local park on the way home.

So I have decided that the best thing for me to do is to switch off all the lights and go to my bed.

Night night.

This weeks desktop...

Is a salute to The Good Doktor Hunter S Thompson.

To grab a copy for yourself do the clicky linky thing.

Jibbery jibbery hoof.

The title above makes no sense. Not to you anyhoo, but to me it means many things.

Whilst wandering the house I am prone to talking to myself. More often than not it's in a made up language of non-sense words that to the casual observer would probably convince them that I was totally off my head and should be locked up.

To me however these nonsensical words can mean a lot. A cup of coffee may, one day, be referred to as "Oom kowp af kafee" and the next day the same thing may be referred to as "Shavrinklestad! Imbediatlemundanski!"

Is this normal? Probably not. Do I care? Well, not really. I realized a long time ago that all of us are slightly mad in our own way. As Mark Twain once said "Let us consider that we are all partially insane." And he was correct. If you ask me he was right smack bang on the money.

Of course you have to remember that he was start staring mad and can't be trusted.

Shavrinklestad anyone?


Armani, Givenchy and Malawi...

This years fashion must have isn't available to most people. It's not available at your local department store, you'll have problems finding them in Harrods and there is absolutely no chance you'll get one at Harvey Nichols.

Why? Well, because this years fashion accessory is an orphan from a third world country.

I've had enough...

Of multi-millionaire actresses advertising shampoo.

No doubt you'll have seen the ads on TV. They all run along the same basic lines... A perfectly preened actress pops onto the screen and spouts how she uses (insert brand name here) because it makes their hair shiny and manageable and prevents them from looking like they've been dragged through a bush.

How about a little bit of honesty for a change? The actress could pop onto the screen and state in a plain and simple manner that the thing that they are advertising doesn't make their hair shiny and manageable (that's done by a hairdresser as the ad is being filmed) and that they don't actually use the product they are hawking, but as the company said it would give them a big stack of money for saying they do, they jumped at the chance.

Fuck these whores, everyone of them.

Like a shitty nappy...

I've dropped my short story. Whether I'll ever finish it is unknown at this time.

The reason for dropping it is that I had never intended it to be anything more than an exercise in writing.


Mix it, fix it, break it, bend it mash it up...

I'm really getting into Bastard Pop. In fact, I'm sitting here listening to Revolved and watching something on TV about Nunsploitation.

Watching nuns being buggered and listening to The Beatles remixed with more modern pop groups may not seem like a very sane way to pass an evening. But it's either that or watching Jonathan Ross weviewing the watest weweases, listening to Johann Sebastian Bach and wondering how long I'll last before I decided to overdose on Co-codamol and Diazepam washed down with bleach.

If I'm being honest I have to admit that I have, on occasion, wondered how it would be to make love with a nun. Now before you go getting all incensed and angry about my desires to knob a nun, please, calm the fuck down. I'm only kidding... Or am I? Actually, I'm not.

In an ideal world most men would admit to having this kind of fantasy. But we ain't in an ideal world and most men are spineless bastards when it comes to admitting their dark secrets. Fortunately I'm more evolved and have no qualms about opening up and letting you all read all about the hidden side of myself.

Ain't you lucky in that respect? You not only get to laugh at the fucked up shit that I think about but you also get to read things that other people wouldn't write about...

Anyhoo, back the point. Where was I? Oh yeah, Revolved. I'd recommend it if you like your music a bit on the wacky side. And guess what? I do.

Capitulation is never easy...

I've finally caved in to public pressure and bought a mobile phone.

I feel soiled.

Pity me...


Bring the noize!

First off, apologies for the title of this post being a bit to much like a tribute to the band of brummie bampots that is Slade.

There really is no excuse for it. It's unforgivable. I'm sorry. Honestly I am. Console yourself with the knowledge that I'll be haunted by it for a long time. (Imagine the length of time it'd take for someone to wear away Mount Everest to sealevel with a beltsander and you'll get the idea of how long I'll be haunted by it...)

Secondly, allow me to introduce you to something that hits my buttons in the right order.

Mashups, also known as Bastard Pop, are essentially dj mixes of songs that blend one tune into another. To hear some good mashups visit Mashup Town.

In other news...

My shoulder is still caned. I'll be calling the Dr on Monday to arrange another appointment to see about physio. To be honest with you it's a pain in the ass... Shoulder... You know what I mean, stop being picky.


Jobbie Jobbie Job Job...

Normally I'm not very good at being somewhere when I need to be there.

This wasn't the case yesterday when I had to be at my job interview. (I was actually one hour and fifteen minutes early.) So instead of walking in and announcing my arrival I sat at a bus stop opposite the hotel and read my book for an hour while I smoked as many cigarettes as humanly possible.

After about an hour I plodded over the road and went to reception. I informed the woman on duty that I was here to see Mr *****. She picked up the phone and let the guy know I was here for my interview.

I met up with Mr ***** and we took a seat in a quiet corner of the bar and discussed the job, what I thought I could bring to the job in question and then he asked me the reason for my last job coming to an end.

As Mr ***** had said to me at least twice that he was a straight to the point type guy I told him I wasn't going to attempt to cover up the truth by lying to him. He looked at my applications form and read out the part that said I had been sacked for "Writing on my website."

"In the simplest terms, I wrote that the place was run by fuckwits." I said.
"Ahhh." He said.
"But in my defense, it is run by fuckwits. I spent six years banging my head against a wall and eventually snapped." I told him.

He laughed and continued the interview. We took a wander around the bars and he explained the position that I was applying for. All was well and good and after about fifteen minutes he told me that he would recommend that his manager get me in for a second interview when he returns from his holidays.

So I should hear in a couple of weeks when I've to go in for a second interview.


Shiny shiny shiny...

So, there I was sitting at my desk watching A Clockwork Orange on DVD when the phone rang. In my usual style I picked it up and said the first thing that popped into my head.

"Bonjour, l'hotel grand." I said, in my best French accent. (Which to be honest sounds a bit like Peter Sellars as Inspector Clouseau.)
"Hello, can I speak to Ross Douglas." The voice on the other end of the phone said.
"Speaking." I said, somewhat warily as I'm still wanted by the police in london.
"This is ***** at the ******** ****** hotel. I've just received your application for the position of barman and I was wondering if you could come in for a little chat." The voice continued.
"Sure, when would be the best time?" I said.
"How about Thursday? Is that Ok with you?" The voice continued.
"Thursday's fine with me. What time?" I asked.
"How about 5pm?" Said the voice.
"Sure, I'll be there." I said and put the phone down.

Wish me luck. I'll need it.

The silliness goes on. And on. And on...

The Haunting.
A Short Story.
Part Eight.

No matter how hard Ross tried he couldn't get his legs to co-operate. As the soldiers stood to attention Ross swayed like a flagpole in strong breeze.

The sergeant walked over to where Ross was swaying in the wind and asked him to inspect the troops. "Do I have to? I'd much rather inspect a bed while having a nice long lie down." Ross said.


Ross walked along the line of troops who were doing their best to look like highly trained killing machines. They failed to look like killing machines as much as Ross failed to look like he wasn't suffering from the biggest hangover of his life.

After Ross finished walking along the line of troops the thought occurred to him that he should say something encouraging to them. "Troops!" He began, "It is with immense pride that I look upon you all. If you had told me last week that I would be addressing a whole troop of soldier spiders I don't know what I'd have said."

A soldier at the back of the troop made the remark that last week Ross would have stood on them or nailed them to the ceiling of his flat with a dart. The sergeant shouted out for whoever said that had better "Shut it!"

As the sergeant dismissed the soldiers Ross asked where he could get a drink. The sergeant suggested going back to the bar and Ross told him in no uncertain terms that he'd rather drink ditchwater.

The sergeant suggested a cup of dandelion tea and Ross told the sergeant that he'd love a cup of tea. They walked over to the mess hall and had a cup of tea. As they drank their tea the sergeant asked what Ross thought of the troop.

Ross explained that he hadn't got a clue. "But you're the one who killed General Bitsy." The sergeant said. "You are the brave warrior of spider legend." It continued.
"Spider legend?" Ross enquired.
"There is a spider legend that tells of a brave warrior who will save the spiders from the yellow backed ones." The sergeant said.
"Well I hate to be the one to tell you this but I'm not a brave warrior." Ross said.
"You must be, you killed General Bitsy." The sergeant said.
"That was mostly down to luck. I threw a dart and it hit General bitsy." Ross replied.
"But the spider council has it's hopes pinned on you. If you fail to defeat the daddy long legs and the wasps the spider people are doomed."

Ross realised that even if he didn't think he was the brave warrior that the sergeant thought he was he would still have to go through with the decision he made. "Look, can you pick out 6 of your best soldiers and meet me in the bar in two hours?" Ross asked the sergeant.
"Yes, but what for?" Asked the sergeant.
"I'll tell you later. Just be here with six of your best spiders." Ross said and ran out of the messhall.

Ross ran towards the main cave and found W.
"Those things I wanted to bring with me, where are they?" Ross asked.
"In the council chambers. Why?" W questioned.
"Because I need them." Ross replied.
"Why? The war on the wasps and the daddy long legs' isn't going to happen for at least a week." Said W.
"That's what they think. I've got other ideas." Ross said.

Ross went to see the stallholder that he had met while buying up all the stock and giving it away. Ross asked for a few things and the spider said he would have it delivered to the messhall. Then Ross found W again and asked where he could get a hold of the spider that had made the waistcoat of clover leaves for him to wear. W took him to the spider seamstress and Ross asked her if she could make a few things for him on very short notice.

With an hour to go before Ross was due back at the messhall he went to his small cave and slept for an hour.


Paranoia abounds...

There's a saying that I have always wondered about.

"Paranoia is reality on a finer scale."

Are the truly paranoid really seeing reality on a finer scale than those people who aren't as paranoid? Or are they just too uptight. It's a scunner for sure.

I've recently been hit with certain thoughts that could be labeled as "paranoid" and it got me to thinking maybe I'm not as sane as I always thought I was. (What those thoughts are I'm not willing to divulge. So don't ask, Ok.) Suffice to say that there are some people I have put a lot of trust and faith in and I'm beginning to think that there may be reason for me to re-evaluate my standpoint.

Sure the thoughts I'm having have very little grounding in reality but you notice when people, you thought you knew quite well, are treating you differently.

Perhaps my paranoia has no grounding in reality whatsoever and my fears are merely the creation of a (slightly) deranged mind. If this is the case then I will resolve not to be so paranoid in the future. If this is not the case I'll become more paranoid and will probably lose a lot of faith in people. And I'd hate to lose my faith in people as it is sometimes the only thing that we have in life. The hope that people are essentially good is a tenet I cling to like a man lost at sea clings to a liferaft.

And on that note I'm off to my bed as I have to be up really early to let some workmen in to rewire the house.

For the first time in a long time...

I was up at 8am and out of the house before the postman had arrived.

Mind you, I could lie in my bed until 4pm and still be up before the postman arrives. What is it with the post office these days? When I was a kid you could pretty much guarantee that the post would hit your floor before you had had your first cup of coffee in the morning.

Anyhoo, the reason I was up at such an ungodly hour was that I had to go and sign on. Yes that's right, I signed on the dotted line and declared I was still available for work and was more than willing to look for a job.

The dude at the dole shouted my name and I stepped into the cubicle and was asked if I had been looking for work. I was tempted to tell him that I had been too busy navel gazing but resisted as he didn't look the type to laugh. I signed my name to the little piece of paper and promptly got the fuck out of there before the oppressive mood of the place sucked my spirit from my soul.

It's that kind of place. The dregs of society hang around outside the building like a pack of intellectually challenged monkeys. You get the distinct feeling that if one of them were to stumble the others would be on them in a second. Eat the weak is one of their central tenets. The only things that would be left is a pile of bones with the marrow sucked from them.

fortunately I am safe from the droogs. I grew up around these animals and know how to deal with them. Show them a shiny object and they are transfixed. A 5p coin thrown in the opposite direction to which you want to run usually works.

If you have no shiny objects then you can always resort to the tried and tested diversion of saying "Would you look at the size of that motherfucker." As you point your finger in the opposite direction to which they are looking. Failing that you can always resort to wit.

A well constructed witticism will often cause total mental breakdown in these kinds of people so please remember to use this tactic only when you are cornered. After all, you could be faced with a charge of murder if the brain of your would be attackers haemorrhages, trying to figure out what you meant when you verbally defended yourself, and ends their life.


Sillier and sillier...

The Haunting.
A Short Story.
Part Seven.

Ross saw the crowd of spiders running towards him. What had he done that had so annoyed them that they chose to rush him en-masse? Would this be where he would die? Would he die after being torn to pieces by a baying mob of arachnids?


The mob descended upon Ross and, much to his surprise, he was lifted into the air and carried back in the direction of the market. The spiders cheered and whooped as they carried Ross above their shoulders.

When they arrived at the market the stallholders were giving away their stock. The spiders who were receiving the stock were asking what was going on and the stallholders explained to them that Ross had bought everything in the market and had instructed him that all of it was to be given away.

After the crowd had calmed down Ross made his way to the council chambers. As he walked he was escorted by a crowd of spiders who wanted to thank him for his generosity. Ross told them there was no need to thank him as he had only done what he thought was right.

When Ross arrived at the council chambers W was waiting for him. W asked what was going on and Ross told the story of how the stallholder had explained the situation and thought he could do something to even the score. W grabbed Ross' arm and hauled him into a small cave at the side of the council chambers.

"Take it easy man." Ross protested.
"Do you realise what you have done?" W said, angrily.
"What do you mean?" Ross asked.
"The council will not be pleased at this. You have sewn the seeds of rebellion. The spider council rule the spider people hard for the good of the whole." W replied.
"Well, the spider council can kiss my hole." Ross said and walked away.

W followed Ross into the main council cave. When Ross looked at the crowd of happy spiders he knew he was right. When he looked into the crowd he saw happy spiders celebrating and knew that to rule fairly first you must be fair.

Then he saw the sergeant at arms. The sergeant had a stern look on his face and was ordering soldiers to take control of the crowd outside the council chambers. Some of the soldiers were beating back the crowd with balls of silk that they were firing from their abdomen.

Ross saw some of the soldiers were armed with clubs and were beating some of the spiders as they attempted to subdue the mob. On seeing this Ross ran towards the sergeant at arms and demanded that he order his soldiers to stop. The sergeant at arms told Ross in no uncertain terms to mind his own business.

"This is my business!" Ross yelled. "I told the stallholders I wanted everything to be bought and given away. How dare you order the rank and file to attack these spiders!" He continued.
Meanwhile W had taken the wise move of sending for Slater. Slater arrived and ordered the soldiers to stop beating the crowd and ordered Ross and the sergeant at arms into the council chambers.

Once in the chambers Slater asked what was going on. Ross and the Sergeant both began screaming out their respective versions of the story at the same time and the meeting descended into a shouting match. Suddenly Slater screamed. "There will be silence!" It shouted.

At once Ross and the sergeant at arms stopped arguing and paid attention. Slater spoke again. "This is to stop at once. The two of you are acting like children. In order for you to learn to work together I am ordering you to prepare the rank and file for the forthcoming battle."

"That's not fair!" Ross and the sergeant said, at the same time. "He started it!" They both said. They looked at each other and began laughing. Ross offered the sergeant his hand and the sergeant shook it. They apologized to each other and Slater told them that they had much work to do.

Slater then asked Ross to come into a small cave at the side of the main chambers. Ross and Slater stepped into the cave and Slater spoke. "What you are doing here is unwise Ross, for many years the spider people have been ruled with a strong hand. Change will not come easy. I see that you have grand ideas about how to rule but I warn you that you will not find it easy to change the ideas of the spider council." It said.

Ross said that he understood that change was not an easy thing to accept at times but there are times when it is a must. Slater said he understood. "Be careful Ross. The rest of the spider council are not as forward thinking as I. You will make many enemies." Slater said as it walked from the small cave.

Ross then walked out into the main cave where spiders were helping the injured and the sergeant at arms was ordering his troops to return to barracks. Ross asked the sergeant where the barracks were and the sergeant told him that they were returning there shortly if he wanted to come along.

After the soldiers had lined up the sergeant ordered them to march. Ross followed along and the whole troop paraded through the large cave in the direction of the barracks. The sergeant and Ross began talking as they marched to the barracks and they discovered that they had a similar sense of right and wrong but there were times when they were overruled by society and politicians who thought they had better ideas on how to run things. "Sometimes you must lead the people, sometimes the people must lead you." The sergeant said.

When they arrived at the barracks the rank and file were told to get some rest as their training would begin in earnest tomorrow. The sergeant and Ross went to the officers club to have a drink.

Ross awoke the next day slumped over a table in the officers club. His head was pounding and he had no memory of what had happened the previous night. The sergeant was lying on its back on the bar and there were berry skins all over the floor. A barspider was sweeping up the mess and cursing.

"Where the hell am I?" Ross said, as he slowly came round. "And more to the point what the hell was I drinking?" Upon raising his head Ross felt dizzy and crumpled to the floor.

The sergeant stirred and fell off the bar into a heap on the floor. In a flash the sergeant was on its feet with two legs raised like a prize fighter. "Ok, who pushed me? Come on then! I'll take on anyone who wants some." It said, and promptly fell over into a heap.

The barspider went behind the bar and came back a few seconds later with two acorn shells filled with water. It threw one on each of the drunks that were lying on the floor. Ross and the sergeant both spluttered and splashed in the water and woke up.

The sergeant and Ross looked at each other and laughed. Then they stopped laughing as their heads felt like someone had had a party in their skulls and hadn't invited them along for the fun. The sergeant asked the barspider to make him up two tonics to clear the cobwebs and the barspider shuffled off to the bar to prepare them.

A couple of minutes later Ross and the sergeant were sitting at the bar holding their heads. The barspider returned and placed a couple of drinks in front of them. "There you go sarge." Said the barspider.

The sergeant handed Ross a drink and told him to swallow it. "What's in it?" Ross enquired.
"If I told you, you wouldn't drink it. Now get it down you. Trust me. It'll clear your head in a flash." The sergeant said.
Ross did as he was told and swallowed the drink down. As soon as the drink hit his gut Ross was violently sick. The barspider shook its head as he watched Ross chuck up all over the bar. The sergeant however finished his drink and stood up.

"That's betterer." It said. "Much betterer."
"Betterer? Is that even a word?" Ross asked.
"Does it look like I care?" Said the sergeant. "All I know is that it either makes you sick or it makes you feel betterer."

"Right then Ross, lets go and wake up the troops." Said the sergeant.
"Can... Whooaarrrghh... I... Whooaarrrghh... please... Whooaarrrghh... finish... Whooaarrrghh... puking... Whooaarrrghh... first... Whooooooooaaaaaaarrrghh." Said Ross as he spouted spew all over the barroom floor. Ross wiped his chin on his sleeve and stood up.
"Betterer?" Asked the sergeant.
"Lots." Ross said, moving as quick as he could considering his legs weren't talking to each other.

They arrived at the squad barracks and the sergeant roused the troops by screaming at the top of his voice. Ross held his hands over his ears as the sergeant bawled the troops out of their webs.

"Right you horrible little lot! Up and at it! Your favorite sergeant is here to let you know it's time to become soldiers!" The sergeant screamed, as Ross held on to the nearest thing trying not to fall over because of the noise. The soldier spiders all got out of their webs and lined up.

The sergeant screamed at all the soldiers to line up outside the barrack and they all trooped out and stood to attention.

The things you do...

For some reason Mini Me sent me an invite to join Bebo.

So I joined and made up a homepage. You can see it by clicking here. Though quite why you'd want to do that is beyond me... It's basically the same as my myspace page.

Hey you! Buy one of these or I'll sneak into your home and shit on your coffee table.

Do yourself a favour and go and buy a quality t-shirt from the boys at Public Grief Junkie.

With such immortal slogans as "Dolphins are gay sharks." "Lighten up Hippy! Tanks are cool." and "Stop the war. My parent are middle class." These guys deserve to become millionaires.

To buy one of their shirts do the clicky linky thing here.

Travis Pastrana = GOD on a motorcycle.

I think I may have annoyed my neighbors after seeing Travis Pastrana doing a double back flip at the X games.

A few years ago they said it was impossible to backflip a dirtbike. Not only were they proven wrong but now they will eat their words and will never doubt the human spirit to attempt what we are told is impossible.

When Travis landed it I jumped out of my chair and yelled loud enough to shake the windows.

There's only one thing you can possibly say about this...



Elvis Returns...

I've just seen BBC Radio 2's advert on BBC2.

I'm not sure if you personally have seen it so I'll give you a quick description...

Elvis Presley is on stage in a sparkle laden jumpsuit. He introduces his fellow performers. Stevie Wonder is on piano, Keith Moon plays drums, Jimmy Page plays lead guitar, Sheryl Crow plays bass guitar, Noel Gallagher plays rhythm guitar and Marvin Gaye is on backing vocals alongside The Sugababes.

Now we all know that in his later years Elvis was what somewhat chemically overendowed but just how fucked on drugs would you have to be to want your backing group to be the Sugababes?
There aren't enough drugs on the planet to get you that high. Seriously, you could snort the entire output of every Columbian cocaine cartel and not get that high.


After a quick phone call this morning...

I got an appointment to see the doctor this evening.

I have had a sore shoulder for the last week or so and the Doc informed me tonight that I have put my Trapezius muscle into spasm and have trapped a nerve in my c7 vertebrae. To the layperson this may sound quite painful. Allow me to dispel these thoughts and inform you that it is in fact really painful.

The Doc gave me a prescription for Diazepam to relax the muscle and Co-Codamol to help with the pain. If I'm still as bad next week I've to go back to be referred to a physiotherapist.

Fortunately I have learned to jerk off with my left hand so my sex life is still on the go.

I have created a monster!

What originally started out as a couple (Part one. Part Two.) of small stories to make you lot laugh has now officially turned into a lumbering behemoth.

Where it's going to end I don't know. But the journey is certainly enjoyable for me and that can't be a bad thing. The only thing that is missing is constructive criticism from you all to let me know if I'm wasting my time or not. I know it's hardly high quality writing but I would value your thoughts on it. Even if it's to tell me to pack it in.

The Short story is called The Haunting (Though this will be subject to change.) and you can find it by clicking here for Part one, here for Part two, here for Part three, here for Part four. here for Part five and here for Part six.

It is currently running at just over 10,000 words so be prepared for quite a read.

(For those of you who intend on reading the whole thing please read the first two parts of the story and then continue on to the ones detailed as parts one through to six.)

Once more into the silliness...

The Haunting.
A Short Story.
Part Six.

The Spider council sat waiting. They looked very serious and Ross felt that they were all very powerful spiders in their own right.

Ross approached the raised platform.


"Hello." Said Ross.
"SILENCE!" Shouted a spider who was standing to one side of the platform. It moved towards Ross and grabbed him with two of its legs. "YOU WILL SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO! HUMAN." It continued. The tone of its voice when it said the word human was something like the kind of tone Ross used when addressing an idiot. The disdain in its voice was easily recognized.

"I'll give you until the count of three to let go of me." Ross said.
"Or what?" Replied the spider who had grabbed Ross.
"Or you'll go the same way as General Bitsy." Ross replied with a tone of bravado in his voice.
"One..." Ross counted. "Two..."
The spider released Ross and stepped backwards. Ross dusted off his new clover waistcoat and smiled at the spider. "So, who's the big cheese here?" He asked.

A large spider who was sitting on the raised platform spoke. "I am the leader of the council of spiders. My name is Slater. On behalf of the spider kingdom I welcome you." It said. "I apologize for the behavior of the sergeant at arms he is but a soldier and knows not of such things as protocol." It continued.

"Don't worry about it." Said Ross.
"Not at all brave warrior, the sergeant at arms will be punished for his error." Said Slater.
"Please, don't punish the sergeant at arms. And also, call me Ross." Ross said.
"You show great mercy towards someone who could have killed you. That is indeed the sign of a true warrior." Slater replied.

Slater then introduced the rest of the spider council and Ross waved to say hello. After a few minutes of small talk Slater began talking about the problem that the spiders were facing. Ross said he knew what the problem was, as W had explained it all to him, and offered his help to the spider people if they wanted it.

The sergeant at arms spoke up. "This... Human... Cannot help us. We must fight the yellowbacked ones and the long legged ones alone. It is only by defeating them ourselves that they will learn to respect our rightful position as leaders of the world of the insects."

Ross spoke up. "You know something, there are humans like you sergeant. Mostly they are smallminded idiots who see other people as something to be dominated rather than respected. They're known as Hawks in the general term. Personally I call them idiots."

The sergeant at arms ran at Ross, screaming as it ran. Ross stood his ground ready for a fight.

Ross raised his fists in preparation for the attack of the sergeant at arms. Just as Ross and the sergeant at arms were about to collide the sergeant at arms was halted by a well aimed thread of silk that Slater had fired. "THERE WILL BE NO VIOLENCE IN THE COUNCIL CHAMBERS!" Screamed Slater.

Ross lowered his fists and the sergeant at arms was released from the silk rope that had stopped him in his tracks. Ross offered the sergeant at arms his hand in a gesture of friendship but the sergeant at arms turned his head and walked away. "I will never shake a humans hand as long as I live." It said as it walked away.

"If you run at me like that again you won't live long enough to." Said Ross quietly, so that the council couldn't hear but the sergeant at arms could. Slater the spider brought the hall to order and asked Ross if he was willing to help them in their fight. Ross said he would and Slater raised his two front legs.

A large table was brought in. Ross was asked if he would sit with the council and eat. Ross was very hungry so he said yes. Large clover leafs were carried into the hall on the backs of small spiders and was placed onto the banquet table. There were lots of different dishes all of which looked appetizing. Ross was served a large plate of meat and he began to eat.

W was sitting opposite Ross and they began talking as they ate. As Ross chewed at what looked like a rib of some kind he asked W what it was that they were eating. "That," Said W. "Is prime rib of bluebottle."

Ross suddenly didn't feel very hungry and dropped the rib back onto his cloverleaf plate. "I think I'll stick to the salad." He said. The spiders who were gathered around the table began laughing as Ross' face turned a strange green color and he reached for a small berry to take the taste of bluebottle rib out of his mouth."

At the end of the banquet Ross was escorted back to his small cave by W and was told to get a good nights sleep as they had much preparation to do in the morning.

When Ross awoke the next day he found that some clothes had been placed on a small mushroom that functioned as a table. He picked them up and inspected them. To his surprise he found that the trousers were made of denim and that the t-shirt was made of cotton. There was also a pair of very small shoes that looked like the previous owner was a small doll.

After washing himself Ross tried on the clothes and found that they fitted him almost perfectly. Then he walked to the entrance to the small cave and slid down the silk rope that was hanging outside. He dropped onto the floor of the large cave and began walking across the floor. As he walked about forty small spiders came up to him and ran around him shouting. A larger spider came over, gave them a row and told them to get moving. The large spider apologized to Ross and complained that children were such a handful at times.

"Are they all your children?" Ross asked.
"Oh, no." The spider said. "No no no." It continued.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate anything." Ross apologized.
"I'm their teacher." Said the spider.
"Teacher?" Questioned Ross.
"Oh yes, all spider children must go to school." Said the spider. "I really should catch up with them or they'll all wander off into who knows what kind of trouble." It continued.

Ross watched as the spider teacher ran along to catch up with her class and then he continued walking around. All around him spiders were going about their business. Up ahead a market of some sort was set up. Ross decided to go and have a look.

There were stalls selling berries and stalls selling meat, though Ross avoided these he could hear the cries of market traders yelling out their offers. "Bluebottle! Bluebottle! Get your Bluebottle here!" One trader shouted. "Woodlice, lovely fresh woodlice." Another shouted.

After a few minutes Ross' stomach couldn't take anymore so he headed to a fruit stall and asked how much the fruit was. The stall holder told him that the market traders were under strict orders of the council to give Ross whatever he wanted and to send the bill to the council offices.

Ross picked up a small strawberry and asked the stallholder to send the bill to the council offices. The stallholder asked if Ross wanted anything else and when Ross said no the stallholder sighed.

"Is everything alright?" Ross asked.
"Oh yes. Everything is fine. It's just that... Never mind." Said the stallholder.
"Never mind what?" Ross questioned.
"The council take almost all our profits in tax and I was hoping that you would buy more so I might claim some of it back." Said the spider.
"Really?" Asked Ross.
"Yes. We are taxed almost ninety percent on our profit so we struggle to get by." Said the stallholder.
"Well if that's the case... I think I'll buy everything on your stall if that's alright with you." Ross said, which made the spider brighten up immediately. "In fact, I think I'd like to buy everything in the market if you could arrange that for me." Ross continued.
"But how can you possibly eat everything we have in the market?" Asked the spider.
"I can't. But I can give it away." Ross said.

The stallholder smiled as it caught on to what Ross was suggesting.
"So let me get this straight. You wish to buy everything in the market and give it away?" The stallholder asked.
"That is exactly right." Said Ross. "I'd like to buy it all and give it all to the spiders who most deserve it. Can that be arranged?" He continued.
"I'm sure it could if it was on your orders." The stallholder said.
"Then that is my order. See to it if you would be so kind." Ross said and walked away eating his strawberry.

When word got around the market that Ross had ordered everything to be bought and given to the spiders who needed it the most there was an uproar. Ross heard the shouts go up and turned around to see a mob of spiders rushing at him.

Yet more silliness...

The Haunting.
A Short Story.
Part Five.

Ross dropped into space and began to fall. The training he had done for a charity parachute jump came to him and he adopted the best position to freefall in.

He plummeted towards the ground at terminal velocity. Bob Dylan began singing in his ear. "Oh momma, could this really be the end?"


Ross was fast approaching the ground. He watched it as it loomed large in his field of vision and closed his eyes. He was about to smash into the ground and be killed but he certainly didn't want to see it.

Suddenly he felt something grab onto him. Eight hairy legs had wrapped themselves around his torso and W shouted in his ear. "I told you to stay away from the edge!" It said.
"There's very little point in arguing about it now. We're about to be killed." Ross replied.
"No we aren't. Brace yourself, this might hurt a bit." W said.

There was a sudden jerk and their speed slowed. "What just happened?" Ross asked.
"Remember I told you that General Bitsy used to freejump?" W Replied.
"Yes." Ross said.
"Well, you and I just freejumped. I've shot some silk into the air and we should float to the ground." W said.

When they hit the ground Ross and W rolled into a heap and came to a halt in the grass. Ross stood up and looked up at how far that had fell. He reckoned it to be the equivalent of a 40,000 foot parachute jump. Then the adrenalin rush hit him. He ran around in the grass whooping and screaming like a child in a candystore.

"Can we do that again? Can we? Please? Whoo hoo! What a rush!" He yelled.
W looked somewhat shaken. "Are you Ok?" Ross asked.
"I'll be fine. It's just that I have never freejumped before." W replied.
"What? When you get that kind of buzz from it? I'd do that all day everyday if I could." Ross stated. W stood up on shaky legs. "We must make our way to the spider Kingdom. The council expect us." It said.

W began walking towards the bottom of Ross' apartment block. Ross followed.

It was a long way to the bottom of the apartment block and after a few hours of walking they had got halfway there. Ross asked W if they could stop for a break and W remembered that Ross was at a disadvantage in the leg department. They stopped and Ross sat down on the ground exhausted.

The adrenalin had worn off and Ross was getting tired. They must have walked the equivalent of ten miles and Ross wasn't used to covering such distances.

"I can't go on much longer W." Ross said. "I'm in need of some sleep."
"We have a long way to go Ross. Are you sure you cannot continue?" W asked.
"Not unless you want to carry me." Ross said, yawning.
"Very well then, Stand up." W said.

Ross stood up and W turned around. Ross began walking towards W so that he could climb onto its back. Suddenly W began shooting silk at Ross. In a fraction of a second Ross was covered from his shoulders to his feet in spider silk. The only part of his body that he could move was his head.

"What did you do that for?" Ross asked.
"It will make it easier for you to sleep while I carry you." W said, as it picked Ross up in his silk cocoon and lifted him onto its back. W set off at a fast pace and Ross feel asleep on the back of the spider.

A few hours later Ross awoke. He was no longer wrapped in spider silk and could move around freely. He sat up and discovered he was in something resembling a small cave. He stood up and walked towards the exit of the cave. As he stepped out of the small cave he saw that he was inside an even larger cave and that there were thousands of spiders swinging from caves that were similar to the one he had awoken in.

The view was fantastic. The main part of the cave itself was almost a mile across and there were at least a few hundred thousand other small caves similar to the one he was standing in. There was spider webs covering the entrances of most of them but a few were open to the main cave and spiders of all sizes were walking in and out of them.

Spider silk hung from the roof of the large cave and spiders were climbing up and down them with ease. Ross put out his hand and grabbed the silk rope that hung outside his cave. His hand gripped the silk and he pulled on it to see if it would take his weight. Just as he was about to climb out of the cave and slide down the silk rope W appeared just below him.

W climbed up the last few feet of silk and told Ross that it was time to go and see the spider council. Ross looked down to see that he was still only wearing the piece of t-shirt he had made into a sort of kilt and asked W if there was anything he could change into. W said it would be back as soon as possible and that Ross should wait until it returned.

Ross walked back into the small cave and looked around. In one corner there was the bottom of an acorn that was filled with water. He had a wash and dried himself off with the piece of t-shirt that he was wearing.

W came back a few minutes later and gave Ross a waistcoat that was made from a couple of clover leafs, a pair of trousers made of the same material and a pair of shoes that were made from the skin of some kind of berry. Ross put them on and he and W set off to meet the spider council.

They grabbed the silk that hung outside the small cave and slid to the floor of the cave. W walked ahead and Ross followed. They came to a cave entrance and stepped inside. Instead of a small cave as Ross had expected the cave was huge. The ceiling was at least five feet away and there was spider silk hanging on the walls.

The silk hanging from the walls had been colored somehow and they looked like the tapestries that you can see in medieval castles. They showed great scenes of battles between spiders, wasps and daddy long legs. On one of the tapestries Ross spotted a spider that looked familiar.

He recognized General Bitsy. General bitsy was pictured fighting a wasp twice the size of himself and a daddy long legs that looked very nasty indeed. Then Ross noticed the large raised platform at the end of the room. A dozen spiders sat facing him.

The spider council was waiting...


The silliness continues...

The Haunting.
A Short Story.
Part Four.

Even though he had his doubts, about what What the spider had said, Ross took a deep breath and stepped into the hall cupboard.

What the spider shot a thread of silk out and swung back into the cupboard. "Are you ready Ross?" It asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Ross replied.


Just as Ross was about to step into the cupboard something occurred to him. He was about to walk into the unknown without any means of defending himself. "Hang on W." He said. "I just need to go and grab a few things. I'll be back in a tick."

Ross went into the livingroom and rummaged around for something to use as a weapon. In a small container on his mantelpiece he saw a sewing kit that his Mum had given him when he had burst one of the buttons on his shirt. He popped the lid open and grabbed a small spool of nylon thread, three needles, a large safety pin and the metal thimble that stopped you from sticking a needle into your thumb.

Then he went over to his bookcase. In a small box he found a very small screwdriver that he used to put together scale models of Moto GP motorcycles that he liked to collect and he put that with the things he had grabbed from his sewing kit. As an afterthought he also grabbed one of the scale replica motorcycles. "If I'm going to be small enough to ride one of these I may as well take one along." He thought.

After checking he had thought of everything he walked back to the hall cupboard. W was patiently hanging from the ceiling of the cupboard. "Are you ready now Ross?" It asked.
"I think so." He replied.
"Then step into the cupboard if you will." W said.

Ross stepped into the hall cupboard and placed the things he had gathered on the floor in front of him. W looked at the small motorcycle and raised its eyes in a questioning look. "Hey, I'm never going to be able to ride one of these things for real so I'm taking the opportunity when it's available." Said Ross.

"Very well then Ross. Now you must be re-sized. Please hold out your arm." W said.

Ross held out his arm and W dropped from its silk strand onto it. The feeling of this made Ross jump up and W almost fell off of Ross' arm. "Sorry." Ross said. "I'm not very good with spiders."

"Yes, I know. I saw what you did to General Bitsy." Said W.
"Please, lets not go down that road again. I'm not in the mood for being comforted by a spider and it takes you ages to dry all of your eyes." Ross replied. "Lets just get on with this."

W opened its mouth. Two vicious looking fangs appeared and Ross looked away as they sank into his arm. "OUCH!" He yelled. He could feel his arm go numb as the fangs sunk deeper and deeper into his flesh. "I feel dizzy." He said, just before he passed out and dropped into a heap in the hall cupboard.

After a short time Ross awoke. His head was pounding and was lying beneath what seemed to be a large blanket of some sort. The thought that he was in bed and had dreamed everything that had happened passed through his mind. He tried to throw back the blanket that was covering him but couldn't find the edge.

Ross eventually saw a scrap of light and headed towards it. As he stepped into the light he turned around and saw that the thing he had assumed was a blanket was actually his t-shirt. He saw that he was no longer just over five and a half feet tall, he had been shrunk to just under an inch high. And not only was he just under an inch high but he was also as naked as the day he was born.

W the spider scuttled into view. Ross quickly grabbed the edge of his t-shirt to cover himself up.

"The process was successful!" Said W.
"Apparently." Said Ross. "Would you pass me a needle and some thread please?"
W scuttled over to where Ross had put the needle and other things that he had placed on the floor of the cupboard, picked up the needle in its mouth and carried it to where Ross was standing.

Ross took the needle from W and stuck it into the t-shirt. He tried to rip the material but it was too strong. W saw what Ross was trying to do and helped him. Together they ripped off a length of t-shirt and Ross wrapped it around his waist. He secured it by wrapping some thread around his waist in the style of a belt.

"We must go now." W said. "We must go to the spider council."
W scuttled towards the hole in the wall and Ross called out after it. "What about this stuff?" He said pointing to the things he had brought with him.
"I will send some soldier spiders to fetch it." W Said. "Now please, come."
"Keep your hair on." Said Ross, somewhat sarcastically.

Ross tightened the thread around his waist as tight as possible and followed W into the hole in the wall of the cupboard in the hall. As Ross stepped into the hole the light began fading. After a few steps it was completely dark. "I can't see anything!" He yelled.

W's voice echoed in the darkness. "There will be light when we get to the other side." It said.
Ross took its word for it and continued walking. After a minute or so Ross spotted light and headed towards it. He could see green grass and what looked like trees just outside the hole that he was walking through.

When Ross Stepped out into the light he saw that the grass he saw wasn't in fact grass at all, it was moss and the trees he thought he had seen were actually dandelions. It was at that point that he realized how much he had shrunk.

He looked around and saw that he was standing on a ledge on the outside of his apartment. As he stepped towards the edge to look down he heard W's voice from above him. "Stay away from the edge unless you want to be picked off by a hungry bird." It said. Ross turned around to where the voice had come from and saw W clinging to the wall behind him.

As Ross turned back to take another look over the edge a sudden gust of wind caught him off balance and blew him off the edge...

What is and what should never be...

Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Other times The Grand Whazoo guides you down a certain path to see how well you cope...

Apparently that's what The Grand Whazoo was doing with me when I was recently in Dublin and fell for the sparkle in the eyes of a sweet barmaid named Kate.

I received another e-mail from Kate yesterday telling me that she is in a long term relationship. But all is not lost as she would like to remain in touch as friends. So I may have lost a small piece of my heart to her but I have gained a friend.

Selah. So it goes.


Even more Silliness...

The Haunting.
A Short Story.
Part Three.

He knew deep in his heart that the only hope for the spiders lay with him. He was the one who had taken their greatest hope from them and he knew that if he was ever going to be able to look himself in the mirror again he would have to help them.

So, he told the spider he would fight.


The spider was overjoyed when he told it that he would fight to save their world from being destroyed and it jumped up and down on his desk singing Itsy Bitsy Spider at the top of its voice.

"The brave warrior will fight!" The spider shouted. "We will be victorious! The spider race shall live on and General Bitsy's death will not be for nothing."

"Look, if you don't mind I'd rather you didn't keep calling me that. It's embarrassing." He said.
"Then what shall I call you brave warrior?" The spider asked.
"Well, most people call me Ross." He replied.
"Very well General Ross." Said the spider.
"Just Ross is fine."
"Very well then Just Ross." Said the spider.
"No... I meant that you should call me Ross. Not Just Ross."
"Not Just Ross, just Ross?" The spider asked, somewhat confused.
"Yes. Not Just Ross, just Ross."

After about fifteen minutes the spider finally realized what Ross had meant and they agreed that he wasn't to be called General Ross, Just Ross or Not just Ross. He was to be called Ross and nothing more.

"And what's your name?" Ross asked the spider.
"My name?" The spider asked.
"Yes, What is it?" Ross questioned.
"Correct." Said the spider.
"Ok then Correct. It's nice to meet you." Said Ross.
"No Ross, you misunderstand me. What is my name." The spider said.
"Your name is Correct." Ross said.
"I'm sure it is. There really wasn't any doubt that I'd get it wrong. What I do know is that it isn't Correct. What is my name." Said the spider.

After another five minutes Ross finally grasped that the spiders name was What and wasn't Correct as he had assumed. This made Ross' brain hurt and caused much confusion for at least a few minutes.

"So what do we do now What?" Ross asked.
"We must go to the Kingdom of the Spiders to tell the council that you will help us to fight." What said.
"And how do we get there?" Ross asked.
"We must go to your hall cupboard. It is there that we will gain entry to the Kingdom." What replied.
"What?" Ross questioned.
"Yes Ross?" What asked in reply.
"Damn this is confusing, what I meant was that I misunderstood you. I wasn't saying your name. I was merely questioning your suggestion that we can gain entry to the Kingdom of the Spiders by going to my hall cupboard." Ross said.
"Oh, I see." Said What. "There are many entries to the Kingdom of the Spiders but the easiest way is to go through a hall cupboard." What continued.
"Any hall cupboard or specifically my hall cupboard?" Ross asked.
"Any hall cupboard Ross. A hall cupboard is where we spiders gain entry to the Kingdom. The warm space is pleasant for us." What the spider said.
"Alright then." Ross said.
"Then let us go." Said What the spider.

What the spider jumped off the edge of the desk and landed on the floor next to Ross' feet and began walking towards the hallway. Ross stood up and began following the spider. The spider moved across the livingroom floor and was about halfway to the door when Ross spoke.

"What." He said.
"Yes Ross." What answered.
"Can I give you a lift?" Ross asked. "If I was carrying you we'd get there sooner."
"Sorry Ross but it against spider law for us be carried by humans." What replied.
"But if you go to the zoo you can hold spiders in your hands." Ross stated.
"These spiders have sold out. As you say in your language... They do no bite the hand that feeds them." What said.
"That's a silly law." Ross said.
"The council forbids it." What replied.
"Then you need to tell them that their law is wrong." Ross said.
"The council do not listen to the populace they are inflexible." What said.
"Then it's time you got them to listen."

Ross and What walked towards the hall cupboard. When they arrived at the hall cupboard Ross opened the door and his jaw dropped. Just inside the hall cupboard were thousands of spiders. They covered the floor and the walls and they hung from the ceiling on silken strands of web.

Ross shuddered as he had never seen so many spiders at one time. He knelt down on one knee and spoke to What. "What is this?" He asked.
"The Spiders have come to see their champion." What replied. "They now have hope for the future."
"I feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. Is there anyway you can ask them to go away?" Ross asked.
"Would you feel better if they went?" What asked.
"I would, yes." Ross replied.

What the spider stood up on its back legs and waved its front legs. The thousands of spiders that were in his cupboard disappeared into several holes in the walls. What the spider turned around to face Ross and spoke.

"Is that better Ross?" It asked.
"Yes. Thanks very much." He replied.
"Then we must enter the Kingdom." What said.
"How?" Ross asked.
"Step into the cupboard."
"What?" Ross questioned.
"Yes Ross?" What replied.
"Lets not go through all that again, how about I just call you W?" Ross said.
"Ok then. W it is." W said. "Now if you step into the cupboard we will be on our way."

W walked into the cupboard and headed for a hole in the base of the wall. "Come." It said.
"Ermmm, I've just noticed a small problem. Well, actually it's a large problem." Ross said.
"What would that be?" W asked.
"Well, that hole in the wall is only about half an inch high. I'm roughly five feet seven and a half inches too big for it." Ross said.
"This is not a problem." W stated.
"I'd say it was." Ross stated, matter of factly.
"We have a way around this. Please step into the cupboard." W replied.

Ross stepped into the hall cupboard. W climbed the back wall of the cupboard and was looking at Ross at eye level. Ross stood in his hall cupboard feeling somewhat silly and asked W how he was ever going to fit into a hole that was obviously way too small for him to fit into.

"So about this small large problem." Ross said.
"We have a way around it." W stated.
"And what would that be?" Ross asked.
"We are going to have you re-sized." W said.
"What?" Said Ross, slightly shocked.
"Yes Ross?" Said W.
"Once again, I wasn't saying your name I was asking you to restate whatever it was you just stated." Said Ross. "Maybe it'd be better if I learned to say pardon."
"I said we were going to have you re-sized. It is a painless procedure. All it takes is a small bite from me and you will be re-sized." W said.

Ross thought about this for a second and stepped out of the cupboard. He gathered his thoughts as W shot a thread of silk and swung onto the hall cupboard door.

"Is there a problem Ross?" W asked.
"Actually yes there is. I've never been very tall but asking me to be shrunk to only half an inch is a bit on the extreme side. How the hell am I going to explain that one to my family?" Ross said.
"Once the Wasps and the Daddy Long Legs have been defeated you will be re-sized to your normal height. As long as you survive the war that is." W said.
"You're installing me with not a lot of confidence here W." Ross said, as he pondered being shrunk to a half an inch and faced with the possibility that he may be killed fighting in a war that wasn't really his to fight.

Ross stood thinking for a few seconds about General Bitsy and his fighting spirit. Without General Bitsy to defend them the spider people were practically doomed. Ross took a deep breath and spoke.

"Ok then. Lets do this thing." He said.

More silliness.

The Haunting.
A Short Story.
Part Two.

The spider sat staring at him from his desk. He stared back. Their eyes were deadlocked. Neither he nor the spider dared move for fear of attack.

Whatever would happen next...


He stared at the spider that was sitting on his desk. "This isn't possible." He thought. "I killed that spider. I know I did. I threw a dart through its belly and nailed it to the ceiling of the livingroom."

He risked looking away from the spider and looked upwards to where the spider had hung lifeless. There was a small hole in the roof where the dart had struck. He hadn't imagined it. There had been a fight to the death and the spider had lost.

His eyes moved back to where the spider was sitting. "What the hell is going on here?" He said.

A voice seemed to whisper in his ear. "You are a brave warrior." It said. "I have come to seek your help." It continued.

He shook his head and wondered if he was hearing things or if the little voice in his head was his imagination playing tricks on him again. "Shut up." He thought to himself to silence the internal voice.

"I didn't say anything." His internal voice replied.

"Oh Fu..." He said. Fear had overtaken him and he was so scared he couldn't finish the sentence.

The voice in his ear spoke again. "You are not hearing things, brave warrior, I speak to you."
"Ok, what's going on here?" He said.
"I come to seek your help." The voice continued.
"Am I dreaming? Is that it? Have I fell asleep at my desk and have began dreaming this? Because if I'm dreaming then I'd much rather be riding a fast motorcycle along an empty country road with Valentino Rossi trying to keep up." He said.
"You are not dreaming brave warrior. I am speaking. Come closer." Said the voice.

He walked towards his desk slowly. Fear was still the thing he felt the most and his legs only just obeyed his thoughts. Until that point he didn't really realize how sensible his legs were. He approached his desk with trepidation. The voice spoke again. "Come, brave warrior, sit. You are in no danger. I am on a mission of mercy."

He sat at his desk and stared at the spider. The spider stared back. "That is better brave warrior, I can speak to you without having to shout. I can't tell you how difficult it is for me to be heard across a room. It plays havoc on my vocal chords, it totally ruins my singing voice."

"Your singing voice?" He questioned.
"Yes, I sing in a band on weekends. We're quite good. We do all the good songs. You know the ones, the kind you can sing along to." Said the spider.
"Would I have heard any of them?" He asked.
"Yes. You must have heard about the brave spider warrior Itsy Bitsy." Said the spider.
"You mean the song about the spider climbing up the waterspout?" He asked.
"Yes. Itsy Bitsy was a brave spider who fought so that other spiders may live. He refused to give in when the rains came, he waited with great patience until the shining orb returned and he could climb the waterspout again." The spider said.
"I thought that was just a children's rhyme." He said.
"The meaning was lost during the telling of it to one of your human composers." The spider said.
"You mean to tell me that the song Itsy Bitsy Spider was told to a human by a spider?" He asked.
"Yes." Said the spider. "The original spider version has ten verses but for some reason the human composer only liked the first verse." The spider continued.

"Why are you here?" He asked.
"I have come to seek your help brave warrior." The spider answered.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" He asked.
"Because that is what you are known as in the world of the spiders. You are the brave warrior who killed the bravest of all spiders. You fought with the great warrior General Bitsy and killed him." Said the spider.
"Was he a relative of Itsy Bitsy?" He asked.
"He was the one and only Itsy Bitsy." The spider answered.
"You mean I killed the real Itsy Bitsy Spider from the nursery rhyme?" He asked.
"Yes, he came to seek your help but you startled him and his instinct took over. He fought you and you won." The spider replied.

The thought that he had killed the bravest spider ever hit him. He put his hands over his face and apologized to the spider that was sitting on his desk.

"General Bitsy died the way he would have wanted to die, in battle with a brave warrior. General Bitsy was never the type to die in his bed surrounded by his millions." The spider said.
"Millions? Don't you mean minions?" He asked.
"No. I mean millions. General Bitsy had many children."
"Millions... Of children?" He asked.
"Yes, General Bitsy was the father of over 3 million spiders." The spider said.
"Didn't the TV work?" He said, almost as a joke.
"We do not have TV in our world. We pass the time surfing the web." The spider said, obviously missing the humor.
"You don't have TV but you have computers?" He asked, curiously.
"No. Surfing the web is when we slide down strands of silk for fun." The spider replied. "Or there's freejumping, we sometimes do that." It continued.
"What's that?" He asked.
"That is when we jump from somewhere high and shoot out a length of silk at the last possible second and land safely. General Bitsy came up with the idea many years ago when he was a small spider. He was like that. Always looking for some way to get himself an adrenalin buzz." The spider told him.

The spider told him more stories of the things that General Bitsy used to do and he felt more and more sorry that he was the one responsible for the death of such a wonderful spider. After about half an hour of listening to the adventures of General Bitsy he couldn't take anymore and he began to cry. As he cried he tried to apologize to the spider but the words came out garbled.

He dropped his head onto the desk, narrowly missing the spider, and cried for at least five minutes. The spider tried to talk him out of crying so much but it didn't seem to help so it climbed up his arm, sat on his shoulder and patted him on the back saying "There, there."

After a short time he had stopped crying and the spider tried to tell him not to worry about the death of General Bitsy. But the emotion overtook it and the spider began to cry. The spider lay in front of his computer screen and banged on the desk with at least six of its legs. "Why did he have to fight!" Screamed the spider. "He was on a mission of peace!" It continued.

It seemed to him that the spider was in need of something to dry its eyes with so he walked through to the kitchen and got the spider a piece of kitchen roll. When he returned the spider has stopped crying then it took the kitchen roll and began to dry all of its eyes.

After the spider had dried all of its eyes he asked it a question.

"You said that General Bitsy, god rest his soul, was on a mission of peace." He asked.
"Yes. He came to seek your help with a problem in our world." It said.
"What problem?" He asked.
"There is a war going on in our world. There are two armies trying to kill our race so that they can take over the spider domain." It told him.
"And General Bitsy thought I could help?" He asked.
"Yes, He has seen you fight the enemies of the spiders before. You fought without fear or a second thought for your own safety. He thought if he could speak to you you might help us to fight." The spider said.

He wondered what the spider could have meant but couldn't figure it out so he asked the spider who the enemies of the spiders were.

"They are the yellow backed ones and the big winged ones. In your words they are called Wasps and Daddy Long Legs." It told him. "The yellow backed ones sting us and we die and the big winged ones kill us and eat us." It continued.

"So all I have to do is kill as many wasps as possible and every Daddy Long Legs I see and your race will be fine?" He asked.
"Sadly it is not so simple. If you killed 100 Wasps there would still be a Queen and if you killed 100 Daddy Long Legs their leader would still live. In order for the spider race to survive we must kill the Queen Wasp and the Daddy Daddy Long Legs." It said.

"Ok then. Where are they? I'll whack them with a newspaper and everything will be hunky dory." He said.

"Once again it is not so simple. The Queen Wasp never leaves her nest and the Daddy Daddy Long Legs never leaves his." The spider told him.

"So how do I kill them?" He asked.
"You must fight them in their Palaces. But there are many dangers. There is a constant guard on the Queen Wasp and the Daddy Daddy Long Legs is a fierce warrior. More so than even General Itsy Bitsy ever was. This is the reason General Bitsy sought your help. He knew that together you and he would have a chance of victory." The spider answered.

"Don't you have spider soldiers?" He asked.
"Yes, but they do not have a leader now. General Bitsy was the greatest military mind we had. And now he is gone. Without him we are lost." The spider said.

It was then that something in his mind changed. He was responsible for them being without their greatest fighter, their best leader and their best hope of survival but he was not about to be responsible for the death of an entire race. It was at that point that he knew...

He must help the spiders to fight against the extermination of their race...