Archive for April, 2008

The Criminal Impulse.

Well…

I’ve gone and made a grievous error in judgement. I came in to work this morning with the sincere belief that I’d be a good little busy bee and get something done.. But fate and my own impulsive nature have scattered such delusions to the wind.

It all started with a simple trip to the local Centra store to get a ham and cheese roll, I should have known the omens were bad when the woman at the deli counter gave me too much cheese, nothing good comes from too much cheese.
No matter how many times I ask, in the clearest language possible (“Just a tiny amount of cheese please, I mean a really small amount.. A trace amount.. One single piece of cheese”) She pours a mountain of grated cheese into the roll, I resist the urge to force feed it up her ass so far that every time she opens her mouth a Richard Marx level of cheese comes vomiting forth, a bit harsh and slightly out of proportion with the wrong that had been done to me, but it’s one of those mornings, I pay for it and go.

Since I am not driving I had to get a lift from one of the youngsters working for *Blankety CeNsOrEd blank* on an apprenticeship, who shall remain anonymous… 19 years of age, he insisted he had to make a quick stop on the way back to the workshop… Quite fine by me, a perfectly reasonable request. So we drove down the back roads of County Meath, those narrow slips of tarmacadam that invade the lush greenery, meandering and bumpy as the ground shifts beneath it, the hedges slowly reclaiming the road as the branches from trees form a high pitched snapping drumbeat on the windshield… Beautiful clear day, my kinda lazy day… Finally arriving at a shack of a house that wouldn’t look out of place on the set of Deliverance.

Exiting the vehicle we proceeded inside to visit a friend of Anonymous… As soon as I stepped foot inside the house a wave of something hit me.. I’m not sure now if it was trepidation or an overwhelming smell, danger smell, drug smell, there was a serious amount of Narcotics on the premises… It was probably a mix of both.
I was amazed, these boys were only out of school and already neck deep in the criminal energy of men twice their age. The house lived up to my initial impressions, it was falling apart, neglect and time were taking care of that… It was like something from 1950’s Ireland… Perfectly preserved like some famine house of old. We moved into a bedroom… A large drawer was opened, I couldn’t believe my bulging eyeballs… Drugs of every description in the kinds of quantity that ensured free accommodation in any one of Ireland’s fabulous prisons for half a lifetime. I was struck with a terrible and sudden Urge, I should beat these two men into unconsciousness and stuff every last illegal substance into a giant bin bag… ¬†How delighted would my friends be if I showed up like some kind of deranged father Christmas at their door… Reaching into my large bag to give them the kind of present they wished their parents would get them for Christmas, those matching socks would look rather dull compared to a kilo of Amsterdam’s finest vacuum backed into a brick of pure compressed joy…but I must never listen to that voice in my head, no-no… I must put it back in its box… I must smile and stand in the corner, back to the wall Keith… It’ll all be over shortly.

And over it was… Anonymous simply reached into a large bag and grabbed a clump of something nice and green, he had a toothache and this was to be his cure. Beating a hasty retreat we stopped at an old Stone bridge… Sitting out in the sun, it was a glorious day, too glorious to be working inside a stuffy factory… I sampled the painkiller, if anonymous had any pain in that tooth beforehand, I doubt he could feel it now, let alone his entire melon head (his head does actually look like a melon, so that’s not an insult).

So finallyback in work, It’s time to reflect.

Now I don’t normally consort with the criminal element, but it struck me… Rhe Drug trade in this country is being run, at least at the Lower to Mid-Level, by boys, most of whom are still in school or of that age at least. I could see the attraction for them, there is a sharp sense of danger in this line of work, a thrilling menace you only get from doing something the law of the land forbids, they seem addicted to it, like a drug in and of itself, unable to see themselves slip deeper and deeper into the quagmire… Not really bad people, just addicted to the thrill… and I must say, having the kind of addictive personality I have, I can definitely see what is appealing about it, which is exactly why I must stay away from that Criminal Impulse.

Back to shitty work, or at least pretending to work.

Advertisements

Randomness

My cat hates me. (Not really, he loves me to bits)

It’s official, months and months of careful affection nurture have come crashing down in a brief but turbulent period of sickness. The Vet said it was a touch of pneumonia, His little adventures would have to come to a close while his body rested and recovered, no more outings to the Barn.
It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the gravity of his situation, he certainly does… But his thirst for adventure will I fear only be quenched by death, never has a saying been more true, Curiosity will indeed kill your cat… If you let it.

So it was with great dismay I discovered him MIA this afternoon, my nieces, bless their sweet little visiting hearts, had deemed that all the doors to the house should remain open at all times… A logical conclusion for a child that has just arrived at her sixth birthday. Happy Birthday Lauren, by the way… I know you won’t see this but happy birthday anyway…Sorry I didn’t show up at the party or get you a present… yet! I was too busy getting annihilated with my good friend Philip, who I might add, has the affections of a certain lady by the name of Lucy, I see a definite future in it for the pair of them, but I digress… It was a logical conclusion for my Nieces to have all of the doors open… They could freely move in and out of the house at any point whenever the whim took them, bad news for my containment of Wilbur however.

I seem to have mislocated my drink now also, I could have sworn I put it on the floor…but now I’m faced with a mystery too complex to solve, defeated at the first by half a dozen or so older drinks of similar origin… Scattered about my room, all of various sizes… The only way to be sure is to test drink every last flat room temperature one of them… A task too great given my current condition, I must chalk this one up as another loss on my already significant “things I’ve managed to lose” list. Still, I need to get my drunk on.

Stop the press… I just thought of the ultimate gunfight, special thanks to Daithi for helping to inspire this…Clint Eastwood vs Charles Bronson, High street at noon.. Pistols… Both in their prime. Eastwood, that tall thin bearded frame that looked as if the wind might blow it away with the dust balls if it were not for the simple fact that Clint is cooler than the wind, so the laws of Physics clearly don’t apply to this man… Standing in the street, facing down Charles Bronson, the man with the Death Wish who cannot die… He’s some kind of native Mexican type… You just can’t tell, It’s like he just crawled out of the Arizona desert as a baby and threatened some poor woman to raise him… Or else. Who would draw first?…Is the fabric of space time strong enough to resist the pull that these two men, standing faced off against each other… I’m not sure… Let us just be thankful such a thing will never occur, found my fuckin drink.

Anyway… Where is my poor sick cat? (I found him shortly after, all is well)