Thursday, March 16, 2006

Special Drunken Book of Koala Installment

I had forgotten about this until recently. You remember how I was working on a novel awhile ago? Well, this segment (everything except chapter 30) was written in the middle of the night several months ago. It's surprisingly coherent (albeit a tad foulmouthed), seeing as how I remember being somewhat pissed. Maybe I should write novels while drunk more often. Maybe we all should.

Where are chapters #24-29, you ask? Well, you see, I locked them away securely in shut the fuck up.

Chapter 30: Banana Story

You can never eat too many bananas - or drink too much booze. It's a cosmic truth. Let me tell you a story.

William was peeling yet another banana when suddenly it came to him that not only was he wasting his talent (William was an accomplished jazz musician), but he was wasting his entire LIFE. The thought filled him with dread, but as soon as it came to him he realized it was true.

So he stuck a pencil in his cellmate's eye and called for the guards. The guards let him out, and he was a free man once more.
"Be sure to stay out of trouble now, William", said his best chum among the prison guards, a Mr Whittaker.
"Eat shit and die a thousand deaths", replied William, and pushed Mr Whittaker off a cliff.

Suddenly it was September, and the roads were slippery with wetness. Shit! I can't continue this story. I've hurt my index finger. And the story was coming along so nicely, too. Insert anti-smiley here.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: That was true, the stuff about the finger.)

Chapter 31: I Waited Outside the Bar

I waited outside the bar for fucking EVER. Where were you? I thought you loved me. Today I destroyed you with words. What kind of a name is "McDuck" anyway? Richest fucking duck in the free world my ASS. Who gives a shit you feather-covered COCK? My best friend is a girl made out of sticks. My worst friend is a boy made out of flour. Among my friends in the middle, perhaps the most prominent one is DOCTOR DESTRUCTION.

Chapter 32: Dieter Destruction, M.D.

So I was sitting there like a motherfucker, watching MTV, and what the fuck did it REALLY tell me about the world? I mean REALLY. The rain was pissing down like rain always seems to do, and pissing down it was. And it was pissing down. Lovely MTV aired a commercial. What was it for? Who gives a BAP?

Chapter 33: B.A.P.

Look out, Gnutten, the Creepiness set in fifteen minutes ago. So the war of the worlds had begun and it was largely a war of words. But words can be deadly! Remember how words brought down President Kennedy?

Remember that? How he was shot by a magic bullet made of words? Through the head? And then Jack Ruby killed his killer, Leonardo Dicaprio, also with words. Do you remember? Try to remember, PLEASE.

This will show up on the test, YOU KNOW IT WILL.

Chapter 34: Monkey, You're Wrecking It!

Have you noticed how everything nowadays seems to be made out of glass? I mean aside from my friends the Girl (sticks) and the Boy (flour). Please to shut your fucking face.

And then everything turned weird. Bad was good and good was strange. Strange was salty and love was made of gingerbread. Have you noticed? How everything - EVERYTHING - seems to be made of glass? I mean aside from your windows. And your eyes. And your shoes. And your sucky taste in music.

Chapter 35: Your Sucky Taste in Music Brought Us Down

The Bible is my favorite book. If I could take only one single book with me to a desert island, it would be a survival guide. I mean the Bible. The Bible tells us everything there is to know about life and love and pain and death and suffering. I'm looking at my Bible right here, and do you know what verse I would particularly recommend? Luke 35:24. Look it up and call me in the morning.

Your sucky taste. It manifested itself in pretty much everything. Choice of clothes, and food, and friends. And of course in music. This is a subject we will have reason to return to in this work of fiction. Turn to the next page and call me in the morning.

Chapter 36: George Clooney was a Crappy Batman

How many fingers am I holding up? Just guess! The answer may surprise you.

Whatever happened to Alicia Silverstone? She was hot. Maybe she still is. Alicia, if you want to look me up on the Interweb, my ICQ nick is "Piss_is_as_piss_does". But turn off your brain first. And grow bigger boobs.

Whatever happened to Mary Poppins? That bitch was smoking. She could force-feed me medicine any time.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Chapters 31 through 36 were written in a drunken stupor. Don't tell me I didn't warn you. Oh wait, I didn't. Shit french fries.)

The "Author's Notes" were, of course, written at the same time as the rest. That's why that last one is a filthy lie: I did warn you, right at the onset.

I guess this is To Be Continued.


Matthew said...

Alicia Silverstone was pretty back in the day. Then she got old. Why do chicks do that?

Goo said...

the kandinsky painting is right on koala. just as abstract and colorful as your story :-)

dig it!

Koala Mentala said...

Danke schön!

Und Alicia wirt evil!