Chapter 16: Billy Bratwurst, the Nastiest Man in the South West
Billy hadn't slept in days. He lay there in his king-sized bed, sweating and eating french fries, trying to get to sleep, but failing - most likely because he was eating french fries all the while, the moron. The fucking moron! What a moron! I wish I had him hear so I could strangle him with my bare hands. The moron. I hate him SO much. He killed my heart and devoured my soul, that Billy.
But that wasn't the whole truth, or even the entire truth, or even the smallest part of a glimpse of something that could honestly be called the Truth. Part of it was that he was nervous about his upcoming gunfight with the so-called "Tastiest Gun in the South West", Gobbly Gobbly.
Of course, the newspapers ate it up. "Nastiest vs Tastiest", they proclaimed, "In a Fight to the Finish". With little regard for whom they were hurting. And boy, were they hurting Billy! Poor Billy. I wish I had Billy hear so I could hold him in my arms, and tell him he's cool. Billy. You my main man, Billy. You're great. Don't ever let anyone put you down.
Was Billy's opponent nervous as well? Who can say? But yes, he was. Gobbly was up all night before the scheduled gunfight. He was drinking gasoline and pissing wine.
Billy's duties as Reichskansler often saw him confronting people, but the showdown with Gobby was different in many ways. Gobbly and Billy had been childhood friends, but they'd drifted apart, and this gunfight would be the first time they saw each other in fifteen years. To heighten tensions, Gobbly was a Jew. That had meant little when they were little kids playing together in the sandbox. Since then, however, blue-eyed, blonde-haired Billy had risen through the ranks of Germany's National Socialist Party, while Gobbly's family had been put in internment camps and experimented upon. A number of atrocities had befallen them in the camp. Gobbly's uncle, Sammy, had been made to grow a tail. His mother, Sarah, had been thrown from a great height to see if she would bounce. Alas, she hadn't.
The upcoming firefight could well be seen as being between the forces of Evil and the forces of Good. But, as I said, it was merely regarded as a matter of "Nastiest vs Tastiest". Keep in mind that this took place in 1942, when people were kind of stupid.
Suddenly, Churchill ended the war!! Gobbly was reunited with his family, and they were all cured and healed. His uncle's tail was cut off and bandaged, and his mother's crushed carcass was scraped off the rocks, patched together, and stuffed with cotton. All was well, or as well as could realistically be, given the horrors of a couple of paragraphs ago.
And, irony of ironies!, now it was the Reichskansler, Billy Bratwurst, who was put in a camp. However, it was a camp of gypsies, and they showed him the way of love, and he learned what an evil man he had been, and how not to be evil in the future, and from that day on, Billy was a nice guy!
Chapter 17: Solace, Quagmire, Normal
ANGST was the order of the day, but, really, isn't it always? I stared directly into the Sun for forty-five minutes and now all I see is you.
A million monkeys at a million typewriters, working away from sunrise to sunset, without food, without air, without hope, without fear. What might they produce? In all likelihood an astonishing load of bullshit.
Last night I had a dream of cars, riding fast, flying high. The cars were made glue, but the people inside were made of tin. One of them was trying to get out.
"Let me off!", he screamed. "I'll make it worth your while!"
But then he flew another thousand miles into the sky.
I can't abide food that looks at me. That's why I prefer minced meat to pig roasted whole. Pig sucks.
Chapter 18: When I'm With You, I Feel Secure
... no, wait, I mean sick.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Posted by Koala Mentala at 5:55 pm