A young woman, probably 16, adorned in a hijab and a thick winter jacket strolled down my street earlier – well not really a stroll, per say – more of a brisk walk, as though she was convinced she shouldn’t be outside…surely not at night, and unaccompanied by a male family member, at any rate…poor kid, I thought, wondering if they can’t wear earmuffs or something over those things while I turned away to head back inside, only to hear a loud and baritone series of noises and grunts which vaguely reminded me of English but not any sort of words I’d be able to testify to understanding, even under the worst kind of torture.

My first thought was of course the safety of the young lady, and I turned back quickly to where I’d seen her last, expecting to see some weird xenophobe wailing on the defenseless child, but instead there was…nothing. She had somehow dissipated out into the ether, a spectacular showing of power, and not something a person should have to try to explain to his friends at a later point in time while swearing he’d been laying off the whiskey and expect to have the pleasure of calling those people friends afterwards. People hate liars these days, especially in matters such as these. Nevertheless…

A sickened, truly oafish and drug-tired looking man of about 6″5′ stutter-stepped his way into my field of view some minutes later, as I was still gripping the goddamn balcony with all my might (completely soberly, mind you), feverishly looking for that kid because were did she go goddamnit and furthermore I still couldn’t understand what he was screeching but he obviously didn’t seem equipped to assault and murder anyone as he could barely stand – certainly no threat needing a magic act…SO where had the kid gone? Hidden amongst the tall, barren trees? Breathing sparingly whilst huddled at the wall of the place across the street, hoping the plumes of her smoke-like breath in this brutal winter weather wouldn’t be noticed? PARANORMAL ACTIVITY? That movie was scary! Anyways…

Right, so this guy meanders his way into the intersection but fails to do the “look both ways” thing people who don’t *spoiler alert* get hit by fucking cars */spoiler alert* do and is promptly hit and weirdly broken in every way (I heard everything shatter at once, it was like some purportedly menacing dog fight where neither competitor has been given any calcium for 10 months and mutually their bones just shatter like glass as soon as they collide and yet I still have to pay up $200 for some goddamn reason) by some low life in a ’97 Mustang who did the pedestrian equivalent of not looking both ways by not bothering to put a lot of effort into stopping for a big red sign that says STOP in important font. So now the yowling, jabbering pedestrian is very obviously not yowling or very likely breathing and the what I am sure is a ’97 Mustang, faded red paint and slippery tires, the tires playing most importantly in this because they were obviously bald and the driver, despite her what I imagine to be vociferation to the contrary when scolded by friends or law enforcement, would not “drive just fine through this cunt slush”, for it is February and the roads are a hellscape of ice and viscous sludge which no sane person would ever attempt to traverse so brazenly, even with chains or large spikes protruding out to gain some semblance of grip, let alone tires which were in all probability the same tires that were on the damn car when it rolled out of the factory 17 years ago.

Nor would she have the opportunity to reflect on the choice and have a change of heart – The Hills Have Eyes guy who had been struck down like a Hills Have Eyes guy should be (aka any means possible! you seen that movie?? those guys are MEAN to outsiders and have no respect for the young and attractive – America’s last hope) as she crashed into a lamp post a block down and was somehow immediately set upon by an array of people, all screaming that they were in some way or another closely related or very good friends with and in most cases owed substantial amounts of money or drugs from the recently broken and bleeding guy laying in the street behind them, now coughing up weird fountains of blood and obviously not going to be in any position to pay his debts within the next minute or two.

They descended on that poor terrible bastard so fast that a honey badger would have been gone running for cover, dragging her out of her car before she could even try to jam it in reverse and make some sort of misguided run for freedom . All I saw were gizzards and blood, and a high-pitched howling for mercy that would never come…the vultures were circling soon after…and by that I mean the drug-addled creeps who I sometimes find peering out at me from dumpsters as I pass by at 3am in the morning. No laws are intact for those who choose to commit vehicular manslaughter while smirking and the police never came. What wasn’t eaten or otherwise utilized by the mob and the drug freaks was shoveled away by good samaritans, and the broken corpse of Hills Have Eyes was later hoisted up on a makeshift stretcher fashioned mostly with duct tape and flattened beer boxes by his family/friends/debtors and taken to parts unknown by the author.

But before the mop-up I later witnessed, I found myself shouting enthusiastically in the mob’s favor and from the corner of my eye I saw the girl, darting out from behind a tree, keys thrust outwards, running fluidly to a nearby house without issue, through the lock protected door…Safe for now. But Jesus it’s getting strange out here. The never ending blasts of “polar vortex” weather, a term no doubt made up by some sadistic liberal buzzword scribe to help terrify the general public into believing that climate change is real coupled with unending snow are making people wild and I can only hope we are given some sort of reprieve sooner than later, before these roving bands of lunatics get it into their heads that setting fire to the general area will help keep the temperature up a few degrees. Insha’Allah we will have it soon.


Posted by Krank, filed under Awesomeness. Date: February 26, 2014, 10:18 pm | No Comments »

Sitting peaceably, eyes closed and contemplating whether or not I could accurately recall what happened last night, another issue of great importance strolled into my hazy and limited sphere of recognition. The noises emitted by the damn thing constituted some sort of catastrophe. Just what had happened last night, I wondered, to force me to incur such a wretched, unending cacophony of anger and need? Before my spiraling mind could grasp exactly what was going on, I felt the searing pain of sharp, vicious intrusions into my soft and supple thigh, and an unbearable weight pressing on me. The stench of some gutter-based and unholy thing long since dead filled my nostrils as the noise now grew to a deafening roar. Finally opening my eyes and shaking away the previous nights proclivities of booze and weird drugs, I saw the culprit of this nasty crime mere inches from my face. His rotund and hairy body seemed to shake with need – the pain in my thigh was now ebbing and new awful and equally terrible wounds were being inflicted into my chest. I struck out to tear the beast away from me, with little result. He was resourceful and determined, using his weapons expertly as he maneuvered deftly away from my defensive attacks.

His baleful eyes met mine with a ferocious and haunting resolve. This was becoming a real issue. I could feel blood seeping out from the offensive I was currently being subjected to and I was seriously considering whether this was going to end with me bled out in my chair or if my assailant would have to suffer the same fate, albeit perhaps on the floor, where I would stand over him cackling mercilessly, perhaps pointing and screaming horrible epithets towards him about how fat he was and how if he weren’t sired by his aunt and uncle he may have had the brains to keep his goddamn howling to a low mewl when I am in such a state.

This of course was only a fleeting thought as the issue was ongoing, and the time to react was now, before I was torn to shreds. I mustered my strength and pulled the beast up, twisting his razor sharp claws from my chest and holding him at a safe distance. I carried him out to the kitchen, where I set him down gently. I then poured his source of sustenance into his dish and he was immediately occupied with feeding. I limped into the bathroom and tended to my wounds, after which I was able to again sit peaceably at the computer and get back to work, haunted by the shrieks and violence of the preceding events.

I hate cats.

Posted by Krank, filed under Awesomeness. Date: February 23, 2014, 10:24 pm | No Comments »