Bad Hardware Day
vusani
One day I needed something like a cross between a kitchen sink, a ceiling
fan and a lead smelter, only made out of a cobalt-nickel alloy, very flat,
and so you could hang it on the wall for decoration in a simple, bachelor's
apartment. All I had were a vintage Isolina Iwanski poster nailed to the
wall, and the bloodstains on the wall from the previous tenants which I drew
squares around to tell everyone that it was an abstract art I created. I
just thought the place needed just "something else" to make it comfy as far
as décor. Really, this place is depressing ever since my furniture, doilies
and tea cozies were incinerated by that fire in back in '96.
So, I figured if such an item existed, I just knew I could find it down at
the "Happy Hippie Guy's Farm, Garden, Hardware, Gift and Head Shop" down on
8th and Ginkley streets next to the "All You Can Drink Buffet, Happy
Diamond Cowboy Starlite Lounge". Both of them are cool places. Check 'em out
sometime. I've had insightful experiences in both of them. Little did I
know, that I would soon have another insightful experience that day.
After making the noon "boofey" next door, I went to the hardware place. I
walked in the door and was promptly greeted by, well, no one actually. This
is because the Happy Hippie Guys tend to like to burn some big fat bombers
in the back of the store during working hours. What are the odds of that?!
Ha! Sometimes if you're really broke, you can catch a contact high just by
shopping at the back of the store if you time it right. So, while I am
waiting for the HHGs <(this is a clever writing device used for brevity), to
get their munchies and naps in, I started my quest in search of my future
wall decoration.
The reason I like this place, is that it like, has everything in the world,
and you don't often see that type of rampant sexual behavior in common
gardening tools just anywhere! They should charge admission just for that!
Cool. Anyway, I am just walking around looking at stuff when I notice this
crude, handmade sign of theirs advertising these heavy duty, industrial
magnets like what you pick up cars with at the scrap yard. I think they came
off of the Mir space station and Russian Nuclear Power Plants or something,
and were purchased for a bottle of Vodka from Vladimir who sweeps the floor
at the lounge. Someone had cut them all up into manageable pieces that only
weighed 45-60 pounds apiece, and they were on sale for $5.99 in local
currency or some really good weed man.
They were all wrapped individually in these heavy Neophrene type blankets so
that they would not just stick together like magnets will. They obviously
were very powerful magnets, and a lot of work had gone into them. Well,
curiosity got the better of me, as I can always use a really cool 45lb.
Russian made magnet! So I unwrapped one and picked it up. Then for some
strange reason, I held it up to my left ear to see if I could hear the
ocean.
This was a mistake.
These magnets were so powerful as to hold a Russian Nuclear Power facility
together, that they attract most metals except for aluminum, and
non-magnetic stainless steel. Well, guess what? I learned that yet again,
the hard way. Because the Happy Dippy Hippy Hardware Bastard Guys put these
on the floor across the aisle from where the hammers, hatchets, crowbars,
and all varied instruments of destruction were hanging on the wall. Oh yeah,
most of these instruments are made out of steel, which is highly magnetic.
And this my friend, means that even at a distance of 6 feet, a brand new 2
pound ball-peen hammer came flying off the wall and hit me in the right side
of my head. I mean it made a dull thudding sound too. Now here is the funny
part!
The funny part is, that once this ball peen hammer hit my head, it stuck
there! Why? Because it was stuck with my head in between, to a 45lb.
powerful Russian magnet from a nuke power plant on the other side of my
head! Ha! Who'd a thunk it? Really, it did! Well, this was no cake-walk
trying to stand up with 47 pounds of metal stuck to my head and that hammer
really did hurt when it struck me from 6 feet away. Like really hurt.
Anyway, I was all disorientated from the skull fracture, and the weight on
my head, when the other tools started playing follow the leader, and went
flying across the aisle towards my head too. What a bummer! I was trying to
step a lot further away, because I couldn't run with all this weight on my
head, so I got hit with another hammer, a speed-square, crowbar, two wood
rasps, and a coping saw when I thought I was a goner. They were all just
stuck there, and more were on the move, when just then, Hippy guy #1's
sister came into the store at that minute, and commanded all the rest of the
tools to stand down, and cease and desist. Thank goodness. I now had a good
68 pounds of metal on my head, and my headache was growing worse by the
minute. So the other tools had to back off. I was also grateful to have been
pre-anesthetized from alcohol at my buffet lunch next door.
The sister, known as "Electra of Inglewood" was a proficient practitioner in
all manners of Time, Space, and the Universe, and the Black Arts. We also
used to go clubbing together in our younger days, and I think she still
liked me enough to keep me from getting killed by these hardware implements
and the magnet. Now I regret never calling her back after that incident in
'92.
She said that she would be right back, and went off to another part of the
store, even though all the implements were still stuck there on my head. She
did come back in a few minutes with an explanation that for that part of it,
she needed the magical Wrigley's Spearmint gum, a garden hose, and some
candles to break the spell. So anyway, after this very involved process of
lighting the candles, wrapping the hose around my body, inciting various
incantations, and such, the magnet and the implements fell to the floor
instantly. They had been thoroughly de-magnetized, and rendered harmless to
any other human. What a relief! I still hurt though, but picked myself up
and thanked her very profusely for all that. I love you Electra. We'll have
to do the buffet and Louisa board thing sometime 'key? You still look
fabulous too. I promise, this time I will call you.
Just then, the guys finally woke up and came out, and asked what was going
on, and Electra said to move the magnets next to the lumber after explaining
things. They asked me if I was all right, and I said I really needed to get
to the emergency room, because I really hurt, and might have some
life-threatening injuries to my skull. The guys replied that they had some
really good Arkansas Mudlothian Mindfuck Weed that can cure almost anything
and make the pain go away. I said no thanks, I've got to get going to the
hospital, when Electra suddenly grabbed my head and said something, and
immediately cured me. I felt great! I was healed! I love you Electra. We'll
have to do the sacrificial blood-dance by the light of the full moon and
s'mores thing sometime 'k? Oh, and maybe shotgun cheap beers like the old
days? Really, I love you Electra! Thank you ever so much! You all have been
great! I am outta here! Gotta go! Ta Ta!
Well, I was halfway under the overpass on my way home, when I remembered
that I forgot what I had come to do in the first place. No decorations
today! I just couldn't risk that again for a while.
Ultimately, it made no difference, as when I returned home, there was a sign
on the apartments notifying that the building was condemned, and that all
residents were to vacate the premises immediately. Oh no! Now I have to
pitch a tent by the river again. And this means I have nowhere to put up my
poster! Ah well, at least I have Electra. Maybe I can crash at her place
until she turns me into a mouse.
Sincerely,
Vusani
Kent Paul Dolan
> So anyway,
Indeed. But did you consider using the condemned sign as a wall
decoration for your apartment? You did not!
Always remember, serendipity is your friend, except, say, when trying to
spell serendipity.
xanthian.
[Whose spelling I had to go back and "correct" before posting this, and
now I have Yet Another Long Word miffed at me.]
--
Posted via Mailgate.ORG Server - http://www.Mailgate.ORG
vusani
"Kent Paul Dolan" <xant...@well.com> wrote in message
news:291336ad4a3dedb964d...@mygate.mailgate.org...
> "vusani" <Vus...@Idontthinkso.cowtown.net> wrote:
>
> > So anyway,
>
> Indeed. But did you consider using the condemned sign as a wall
> decoration for your apartment? You did not!
>
> Always remember, serendipity is your friend, except, say, when trying to
> spell serendipity.
>
> xanthian.
>
> [Whose spelling I had to go back and "correct" before posting this, and
> now I have Yet Another Long Word miffed at me.]
No, I hadn't even considered that! But it also might have been because these
signs were handwritten in "Inky Dinky" (trademark) markers on bathroom
tissue. I prefer more durable wall decorations personally. I wasn't there
long anyway. But thanks for the suggestion for next time! You just never
know!
Kent Paul Dolan
> "Kent Paul Dolan" <xant...@well.com> wrote:
> > Indeed. But did you consider using the condemned sign as a wall
> > decoration for your apartment? You did not!
> I prefer more durable wall decorations personally.
Well, obviously, since the blood was there to stay.
Speaking of which, if they slum-clear the block and push all those
houses as rubble into their cellars and pave over the lot of the lots,
is the blood (_obviously_ from vampire games among your tenant
predecessors (in the very literal meaning of that term)) going to have
infected the loins of the houses, so that tenements of the living dead
rise up from the parking lot pavement to terrorize the town?
Going to be a _lot_ of ticked-off upscale car owners, of the kind that
park only in the _newer_ lots, if that happens.
xanthian.
[It's a clapboard jungle out there.]
vusani
"Kent Paul Dolan" <xant...@well.com> wrote in message
news:f7b37ffabd26bfb0328...@mygate.mailgate.org...
> "vusani" <Vus...@Idontthinkso.cowtown.net> wrote:
>
> > "Kent Paul Dolan" <xant...@well.com> wrote:
>
> > > Indeed. But did you consider using the condemned sign as a wall
> > > decoration for your apartment? You did not!
>
> > I prefer more durable wall decorations personally.
>
> Well, obviously, since the blood was there to stay.
>
> Speaking of which, if they slum-clear the block and push all those
> houses as rubble into their cellars and pave over the lot of the lots,
> is the blood (_obviously_ from vampire games among your tenant
> predecessors (in the very literal meaning of that term)) going to have
> infected the loins of the houses, so that tenements of the living dead
> rise up from the parking lot pavement to terrorize the town?
Actually, I think (without being a forensics expert), it looked like a
couple of shotgun blasts.
Regardless, there was a lot of blood, and the living dead might indeed rise
up from that rubble. But what makes it worse, is that all the living dead
that lived there while it was in existence, were not only living dead, and
minions of Hell, but a bunch of crack addicts as well! You haven't EVEN seen
a bad neighbor until you have one that is an undead member of the club of
Demons that does a lot of crack and psychedelic shrooms. Don't believe me?
Come visit me for a week and we'll shotgun some beers with them while they
are doing crack, and trying to kill us. Ha! Talk about a party! I tried to
kill most of them, but just like Herpes warts, they keep coming back. This
sucks man, and haven't found a purely reliable method yet. I moved into
another place that was even worse, only it had a lot more female undead
minions of the dark world. They are vicious little bitches, but fun to
shoot, and drive stakes through their hearts. And every time I did that, I
would get into trouble with Electra, who would then turn me into a cabbage f
or 24 hours until I apologized for doing so, as she enjoyed sending them
back to the corporate business offices downtown where they belonged. And
since they would not die, the companies there couldn't get rid of them
regardless of layoffs or economic downturns. Now that was pretty groovy.
Since I liked to dress up as a UPS employee to these companies, and claim to
be delivering packages filled with offal while observing rotting, animated
corpses tramping around all the pert receptionists and middle managers at
the DeLoitte Tuche Corp. general regional office. They always left a lot of
slime on peoples expensive clothes that I could never afford too. You just
have to be there.
>
> Going to be a _lot_ of ticked-off upscale car owners, of the kind that
> park only in the _newer_ lots, if that happens.
>
> xanthian.
>
> [It's a clapboard jungle out there.]
>
>
> --
> Posted via Mailgate.ORG Server - http://www.Mailgate.ORG
It won't happen. The Undead don't like cars. Because they resemble those big
Kenworth Semi Trucks that you can run over and squash them with. Which by
the way, is almost as twice as much fun as RPGs directed into a whole crowd
of them. RPGs are impersonal, so squashing them with a Semi was more
intimate, and therefore had more personal, emotional value. Now, this is
only my opinion, so just do what works for you. But let me reiterate. I
really do absolutely hate crack-addicted, minions of hell that won't die or
go away. Really. I'll get Electra to send them all to Enron Corp. next week.
Vusani
Ace Lightning
>Always remember, serendipity is your friend, except, say, when trying to
>spell serendipity.
>now I have Yet Another Long Word miffed at me.]
uh-oh. it's a Really Bad Idea to get long words miffed at you.
long words hold grudges, and lie in wait, plotting their
revenge, often for decades. and it's not just the one word you
offend - no, they gang up on the unsuspecting, lying in wait,
hiding in seemingly inoffensive prose, until one day they
overwhelm you with their polysyllabic, sesquipedalian
multiplicity... and you can never quite go back to using just
the short words, while Ernest Hemingway's ghost screams in
allegorical sympathy.
Kent Paul Dolan
> But let me reiterate. I
> really do absolutely hate crack-addicted, minions of hell that won't die or
> go away. Really. I'll get Electra to send them all to Enron Corp. next week.
This ==> ("back") <== fell out from between the "all" and the "to" in
that last line.
Probably shoddy packaging on the part of your ISP.
HTH.
xanthian.
vusani
> "vusani" <Vus...@Idontthinkso.cowtown.net> wrote:
>
> > But let me reiterate. I
> > really do absolutely hate crack-addicted, minions of hell that won't die
or
> > go away. Really. I'll get Electra to send them all to Enron Corp. next
week.
>
> This ==> ("back") <== fell out from between the "all" and the "to" in
> that last line.
>
> Probably shoddy packaging on the part of your ISP.
>
> HTH.
>
> xanthian.
Ahhh yes! I have been having problems lately with verbage from my ISP. I am
going to demand a refund for that post. But that doesn't detract exactly,
from the fact that I hate the Undead from the Enron Corp. I'll do my best to
send them back. Just for you. Now I have to go firebomb my ISP.
Later.
Kent Paul Dolan
> "Kent Paul Dolan" <xant...@well.com> wrote:
> > Well, obviously, since the blood was there to stay.
> > Speaking of which, if they slum-clear the block and push all those
> > houses as rubble into their cellars and pave over the lot of the lots,
> > is the blood (_obviously_ from vampire games among your tenant
> > predecessors (in the very literal meaning of that term)) going to have
> > infected the loins of the houses, so that tenements of the living dead
> > rise up from the parking lot pavement to terrorize the town?
> Actually, I think (without being a forensics expert), it looked like a
> couple of shotgun blasts.
> Regardless, there was a lot of blood, and the living dead might indeed rise
> up from that rubble.
See, like, this is why it is important to pay strict attention to what
you are reading in a medium like t.b where eccentric use of language is
_always_ a possibility. Reading what you wrote yourself, to see if it
could possibly be interpreted in some incorrect-but-equally-bizarre way
("crew of two") is _also_ an important talent.
See, like, I _wrote_: "tenements of the living dead rise up"
See, like, which Vusani _read_: "tenement-fulls of the living dead rise
up", and interpreted to mean the "pitter-patter" of little ghoul
footsies, the "stomp, stomp, stomp" of Igor-supplied,
Frankenstein-reconstructed three-meter-tall electrified giant footfalls,
the "flitter-flitter" of transmogrifying vampire wings, the scurrilous
"chitter, screech" of crack-addicted daemons.
See, like, but I really _meant_ "*TENEMENTS*OF*THE*LIVING*DEAD", as in
cement-block stomping, timber lumbering pediment-falls of risen
_dwelling_ _places_ upsprung from the parting lot.
See, like, which misinterpretation made my whole joke about crushed
Beemers fall flat as a house-stomped-car.
See, like, I _supremely_ hate having written a joke so badly crafted it
needs explaining, and I will now go away and flagellate myself suitably
for a programmer-eon or two.
See, like, I'm back. Don't you wish programmers lived at the same rate
of time as normal humans?
xanthian.
See, like, who's this guy who believes that clear English communication
is one of the hardest things to do in the universe, and proves it by bad
examples *every* *single* *posting*.