Re-bar. Two lengths. It''s heavy.
Two on each forearm, one extending beyond the knuckles, sharpened. Four each side of the ribs, two on each shin. A whole roll of Duck tape keeps in in place, but it''s skinny and doesn''t show.
Travis Bickle.
You talkin'' a me?
.....
There they are. Scum. Lurking. Waiting for an easy victim. Smaller. Scared. Alone.
"Hey Bud. Gotta light" Original. Not. Easy to know what''s coming next. A swing and a hit and I''m down, blood coming from my nose. I grin as it streams onto the wet pavement.
The kicks come. Mostly the ribs at first. feels like some of the lower ones might have cracked, the nose is broken for sure. Here we go, a stamp at the head, dodge, pump the right fist up into the descending inner thigh, the re-bar catches. Scream. Lots more blood in the rain. Guess I got the femoral artery.
Good.
He's down, the others have backed up sensing danger, one has a knife out, fire with fire eh?
Lunge. Inside block. Strike. Re-bar pierces the nerve cluster in front of the ball socket of the shoulder joint, scrapes off the bone. He drops the knife and nearly passes out. Side kick to the knee, left hand punch to the temple, no longer a threat.
The remaining two keep their distance. Knives again, sensible distance apart. On the left, moves in, blade flashing. Distraction, dances out as the right hand side ploughs in stabbing at will. God bless newspaper. Two weeks worth. Bend the knees to drop the weight, bringing the re-bar forearm down on his wrist. Was that a snap? Knee to the groin, turn left letting his momentum carry him while I hold his chin. Now that was a snap.
One left. Legging it. Oh no no no no. Re-bar ripped free and spun low to the ground takes the legs from under him.
Begging. Cursing. Promising the world. No. Not after all you have done. No mercy. No justice. No clemency.
The re-bar goes in the river. Done.
Now I need my next method. That''s the error all the others make, signatures, patterns, arrogance. Never the same place. Never the same time, never the same approach.
Chemicals this time I think. High ph, or low? Decisions, decisions.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
The Revolution!
I plonked myself down beside Pete, he''d already got me a pint.
"Bit noisey and busy out there today isn''t it?"
"Mmmm, that''d be the coup"
"Coup, I didn''t hear anything about a coup. I didn''t even see any army vehicles or personel!"
"It's not military"
An aul fella at the bar spoke up: "Apparently they have a hunter. I had an old hillman hunter once"
Pete responded: "Junta. It''s a Junta, not a hunter"
"Oh, right. Is dat one o dem Korean models then?"
"Yeah. Spot on".
"So who staged it?" I asked.
"Decklanders. Spearheaded by the eponymous low GI Janes. They're completely fucked off with the fact that they live in the middle of sodding nowhere, and now they have no jobs since the economy turned sour"
"So they''re staging a coup? Who the fuck came up with that idea?"
"Err, I have plausible deniability right. Nothing can be pinned on me. But if, for some unlikely reason, I was asked I would recommend that much like similar campaigns in south America during the 70s an insensive shock be applied to the segment of society most likely to resit the new order."
"What the fuck? Who would that be?"
"The middle aged architects of the Celtic Tiger. The politicians, developers, bankers, lawyers etc."
"And the shock will be?"
"Well firstly Avoca handweavers will be blown to buggery, all supplies of viagra and chardonnay will be sequestered. After that remaining more vocal dissidents will be ''disaparated''".
"Like in Harry Potter?"
"Not quite. They''ll be brought off to the arsehole of no where and forced to live in craply built semi-d''s with tiny gardens mostly covered over by decks. There they will be subjected to Cameron-esque regression techniques."
"Electroshock?"
"Nah, that's no fun. Standard sleep deprivation, irregular meal times, such as might be induced by unpredictable and long commute times, virtually no sign of sunlight and the constant sound of screaming children, in lieu of the more commonly used white noise or heavy metal as used in Guantanamo. The eventual target is that they will end up in a feotal position on the rich hardwood floors of their semi-d wearing adult nappies and sucking their thumb while singing Barney songs."
"Jesus, Barney? That's horrific. You seem to know an awful lot for someone with plausible deniability!"
"Hmm, I'm not sure I like your tone. How do you feel about a spell in Roscommon?"
"Bit noisey and busy out there today isn''t it?"
"Mmmm, that''d be the coup"
"Coup, I didn''t hear anything about a coup. I didn''t even see any army vehicles or personel!"
"It's not military"
An aul fella at the bar spoke up: "Apparently they have a hunter. I had an old hillman hunter once"
Pete responded: "Junta. It''s a Junta, not a hunter"
"Oh, right. Is dat one o dem Korean models then?"
"Yeah. Spot on".
"So who staged it?" I asked.
"Decklanders. Spearheaded by the eponymous low GI Janes. They're completely fucked off with the fact that they live in the middle of sodding nowhere, and now they have no jobs since the economy turned sour"
"So they''re staging a coup? Who the fuck came up with that idea?"
"Err, I have plausible deniability right. Nothing can be pinned on me. But if, for some unlikely reason, I was asked I would recommend that much like similar campaigns in south America during the 70s an insensive shock be applied to the segment of society most likely to resit the new order."
"What the fuck? Who would that be?"
"The middle aged architects of the Celtic Tiger. The politicians, developers, bankers, lawyers etc."
"And the shock will be?"
"Well firstly Avoca handweavers will be blown to buggery, all supplies of viagra and chardonnay will be sequestered. After that remaining more vocal dissidents will be ''disaparated''".
"Like in Harry Potter?"
"Not quite. They''ll be brought off to the arsehole of no where and forced to live in craply built semi-d''s with tiny gardens mostly covered over by decks. There they will be subjected to Cameron-esque regression techniques."
"Electroshock?"
"Nah, that's no fun. Standard sleep deprivation, irregular meal times, such as might be induced by unpredictable and long commute times, virtually no sign of sunlight and the constant sound of screaming children, in lieu of the more commonly used white noise or heavy metal as used in Guantanamo. The eventual target is that they will end up in a feotal position on the rich hardwood floors of their semi-d wearing adult nappies and sucking their thumb while singing Barney songs."
"Jesus, Barney? That's horrific. You seem to know an awful lot for someone with plausible deniability!"
"Hmm, I'm not sure I like your tone. How do you feel about a spell in Roscommon?"
Friday, August 15, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
I've moved
Now I'm an org:
New Gaff
I'm hoping to sound like a shadowy organisation out to undermine the evil of consumerism :-)
I pulled all the posts and comments over too, but through stupidity deleted the most recent one. I could jump through hoops to re-import it on it's own, but I just couldn't be arsed. Sorry K8, Baino and Englishmum, you comments will have to live in the old gaff.
The new gaff still needs a little work, 2 evenings hacking does not a wordpress expert make.
New Gaff
I'm hoping to sound like a shadowy organisation out to undermine the evil of consumerism :-)
I pulled all the posts and comments over too, but through stupidity deleted the most recent one. I could jump through hoops to re-import it on it's own, but I just couldn't be arsed. Sorry K8, Baino and Englishmum, you comments will have to live in the old gaff.
The new gaff still needs a little work, 2 evenings hacking does not a wordpress expert make.
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