31 Dec 2009

It is an invitation to battle. So I am lying in bed enjoying the pleasant drowsiness of nearly falling asleep; the semi psychotic hypnopompic or is it hypnagogic (?) state when out of nowhere screams the noise of a motorcycle booming like thunder in the road downstairs. It is a noise that enters and violates the physical body with such overwhelming disruption that no attempt to ignore it is possible. Now considering that the road downstairs is no longer than 46 metres from the 90 degree corner to the stop street at most it means that the mother fucker with his hairy chicken flesh balls on the seat has decided to accelerate to the hilt as if our quiet little road was in fact a speedway for nitrous oxide rocket dragsters. It is thus; make no mistake, a call to war. One I accept with relish.  Essentially it is a jousting match. I would stand on the road ready to receive the enemy’s advance (on motorcycle). My aim is not to simply strike the combatant with  a hard blow but to ensure that he is obliterated along with his cacophonous machine; so I guess my jousting stick would in fact be a Star Wars light sabre that cleaves and skewers to the bone all physical resistance; flesh and metal. Violent perhaps but as satisfying as sucking the last juice and bits of flesh off of the succulent ribs we had for lunch last Sunday.