Sssssh!
This morning my email showed 666 unread messages. That’s right! I have the inbox of the beast! Not for the first time either but, wait… At almost exactly the same time I discovered my devillish mail-count, a flake of plaster fell down, down from the ceiling and onto my keyboard. It did this sinisterly. Was it a coincidence? I very think not!
“To battle stations!” I cried, alone in my room, except for the cat who’s probably in on it. “To the battle-stations of the cross!”
Then I thought, I have to tell someone! I have to get my trusty blog pals to aid me and provide succour (steady there, Knudson!)
Look, here’s what I need you to do. Listen carefully because I’m whisper-typing and am only going to rasp it out once – they might be listening. “Who?” you ask, (you do ask who – look, just go along with me here) Why, The Demons Of The Dark, ‘course, or the government or Blockbuster after me for my late rental. Sssssh!
Right, the Irish need to get together a coke-bottle full of yer finest holy water, there. No rubbish – it has to be Evian blessed by a bishop – I don’t know what forces I may be up against yet. Datapost will be fine.
The Americans need to send me food – lots of it in case I have to hunker down for a while up here. Please note, I don’t care much for partially-hydrogenated fats or synthetic cream in my survival food – no Twinkies is what ‘m sayin’. If you could see your way clear to a couple boxes of Godiva chocolate (they’re on post VD sale!) and maybe a liter or so of gin – to sterilize any wounds and because demons all hate juniper-berry derived liquor – I’d be most grateful.
The Brits, my own compatriots! – I ask you to think always of me fondly, and to please send tea-bags, liquorice allsorts and a chav to racially insult the demons. Also pictures of the home I might never see again, to weep wretchedly over.
Peoples from the rest of the world, please send me gold (lots) and treasures of your cultures (ones that fit in a jiffy bag) – I may need transportable wealth for a while, especially if I’m to be imprisoned in the Underworld for any length of time – bribes for the guards and stuff.
Well this is it, folks. There’s nothing to do now but wait, and be watchful. I’d cower but you can’t keep up cowering for long without it starting to hurt around the shoulders. I’ll just have a quick cuppa and get settled, and then watch and wait and watch and wait…
Think of me, won’t you, gentle bloggers? Tell my children I loved them! And tell them always to be kind. And not to let their unread emails get above 500, lest they meet the same grisly fate as their mammy.
Pray to your Gods for me! Pray like the wind!
Right, time to get the kettle on and meet your fate, Sam, Problemchildbride as was…
March 1st, 2007 at 10:10 pm
I have the perfect thing. I’ve got a few box(s) of “survival bars” in the basement. They’re basically granola bars made to last through the seven year tribulation. They’re mult-purpose as well. You can eat them, use them to remove your teeth, throw them at intruders like a ninja, and built a hut to withstand the breath of the wolf and/or baalzebub huffing and puffing. I shall put a box in mail as soon as these tornados let up.
Cheers.
March 1st, 2007 at 10:30 pm
Are they from Nabisco? I know them. Good folk, and kind, send them to the Hebrides to help us through our dark winters. They are truly a wonderfood – multipurpose too. We set fire to them and send them up as flares, just for fun like, you know – it scares the sheep which is always funny. And they have proved indispensable in the calving season. “Granola Bars Saved My Herd!” emoted one crofter messily all over the newspaper, last spring. He went on to remark “God Bless America, and all who sail in her!” (Don’t mock. His mammy and daddy were cousins as well as being uncle and niece. A Hearach – you might know.)
March 1st, 2007 at 11:49 pm
I have secured 666 million gallons of holy water. I have ordained the felling of 666 forests wherewith to boil the water.
Prepare for a massive cloud of holy steam that will save ya.
(Though it didn’t save them Brits at the weekend that got hammered 43-13 in the rugger but we won’t say anything about that).
March 1st, 2007 at 11:51 pm
Oooh, oooooohhhhh… From Papua New Guinea I will send you a penis gourd, and a homemade gun (careful it doesn’t blow up when you fire it) and a watermelon. Avocadoes are in season, too, so you can have some of them. From Australia I will send you vegemite and thongs (feet ones not butt ones) and a koala as a friend, and also to pee on those nasty demons from his tree.
March 2nd, 2007 at 6:43 am
Devils can be tricky devils. My fear is that the cloven-hoofed one might seduce you and turn you into a succubus, which would annoy your near and dear ones. I’ll send you a pair of devil-resistant dark glasses.
March 2nd, 2007 at 7:26 am
Bock, you’ve saved people from demons before, haven’t you? I can tell. Now, a technical point: with 666 gallons of holy water is all that covered under just the one prayer? ‘Cos I mean, doesn’t that dilute the holiness or something? If I put a goldfish in it would that goldfish smile beatifically, grow wings and fly off to Paradise? If not, would it be considered blasphemous to sprinkle fish-food on the holy water to save the poor wee mite’s life? Will the water be holy enough to melt an angel from the pit, is what I’m asking, or will I need each of the 666 gallons separately blessed?
Carolyn, koala pee is the very best sort of devil-thwarting pee – thank-you for only sending me the very best. What did you home-make your gun out of? Should it blow up wrongly, no matter for I will also have not one but two thongs to beat the imps off with! And that is exactly the number of hands I have. It’s genius! You clever, clever girl, you! Now, this penis gourd…
Nanas, succubus you say? Hmm. Bring this devil-chappie on then! It’s actually looking more like this could be a win-win situation for me. But, dear Nanas, ever my gorilla on a white charger – may I have devil-resistant dark bifocals please, instead? I want to look clever in order to flummox Old Wazzisname out of thinking he’s dealing with just any housewife and tries to get me to sell my soul in exchange for even whiter whites or unsinkable souffles.
March 2nd, 2007 at 8:34 am
You are right to be afraid, the devil is everywhere. This morning i found him in my pack of cornflakes, disguised as a small, plastic toy. Luckily i was able to get to my bible before the little sucker could do, um, whatever it is that small, plastic devils do. Thing is, In about a half hour i’m off to the toilet and, frankly, i’m worried.
http://studsramrod.blogspot.com
March 2nd, 2007 at 10:41 am
Sam: now is it Earl Grey, Herbal or the horrid black stuff MTL drinls? And why are you getting hundreds of e-mails and I get about one a day? It’s 10.40am and I’m still not dressed. Yippee! I can stay like this all day if I care to!
March 2nd, 2007 at 10:45 am
Carolyn – re thongs: when they say in Australia ‘No thongs’ which do they mean?
March 2nd, 2007 at 12:52 pm
I tried to get holy water but there was and almighty CEEERACCCKKKKK!! when I approached the church with my plastic beaker and I kept hearing ‘Rectus dominus, painfullusss’ in my head. Sorry old girl, you’re on your own..say, where did that big black bird come form, here birdy, here birdy want some brad? It’s stale….aiiiighghghgh.
March 2nd, 2007 at 12:56 pm
By the by, I think the number of old Moloch might be 616.
March 2nd, 2007 at 1:31 pm
“battle-stations of the cross”
I’m going to find a way to slip that into conversation sometime today, and I’ll immediately mention your nome de ploooom.
As for sending you shit, here’s a prayer to the dark goddesses Azna and Shakti, plus a small saucer of milk by my back door for the brownies.
March 2nd, 2007 at 5:19 pm
Asym, The thing that small plastic devils do is to lurk unseen on patterned carpets, wait til you’re in your stocking soles and then hither at impossible speeds to where you are about to put that part of your soft foot which is the most sensitive to hard, unyielding pokey plastic. The devil often assumes Lego form.
Pat, Earl Grey please and may I say how very civilized it is of you to enquire as to my tea preference. Here in the colonies they have no idea, you know. They think Tiffin is a monster from Sesame Street. But what happens if there’s an International Incident right outside in your street, Pat! There’ll be helicopters and handsome news reporters who want to talk to the Alarmed of Nearby. And you in your nightie! Always, always be prepared for International Incidents occurring in your front garden! (Our girl-guide leader was a member of HMSS and also advised us to regard people in London with umbrellas with the very highest of suspicion.)
fmc, thanks for trying, lovey. I bet you got them all of a tizzy up there. “What is she doing? Approaching the church? But, this is unprecedented – it’s not covered in the handbook! What shall we do?” “Send a crow, send a crow! If in doubt, heavenly lads, send a crow!”. Instead, maybe you could bribe a Wee Fairy Folkum for some magic dust or a a jar of purest luck, or even a can of mace would be fine. I think you’re right on 616 – I read the number had changed somewhere too, but I hear now he’s gone ex-directory. his piece of mischief with marketing calls came back to bite him in his infernal bum.
SafeT, call Azna a dark goddess! She’s phoning it in these days. She says she doesn’t have the will to be dark any more and just wants to spend more time with her family. That Shakti though, she’s one dark dudesse. And “a small saucer of milk”! No wonder the fairies can’t be bothered with us any more if that’s the best we can do. They used to get a bottle of the hard stuff and your first born child. That’s why you’ll never see a fairy around any more. Sold ‘em down the river with our milk and our saucers. I want you to put Sam and a 25 year malt outside the front door this instant! It’s a matter of life and not entirely certain death, man!
March 2nd, 2007 at 6:51 pm
From Germany I send you some Schnapps to knock the guards out while you escape, some bread to feed you on your journey home and an enormous cheesecake to celebrate with on your return.
March 2nd, 2007 at 11:42 pm
Sorry, no sympathy from here – we average 380 junk mails a day, so if we wait a few days there is much more to look at.
But please – give us your email address so that we can log onto some new web sites that promise more mail – so you will not have to go through this experience for nothing, it will just be practise for tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow . .
March 3rd, 2007 at 6:01 am
Hello there Sam,Just popped over from FMC’s.Fleeing from Carrot Top into the arms of the devil as it were.
Seriously though,as Director-General for Underworld Hospitality Inc. I’d like to thank you for choosing to spend your damnation dollar with us.
We here at UH Inc. strive to be industry leaders in Eternal Punishment and Perdition Application Systems as well as poking you in the botty with a big pitchfork.
Why not take your ease at our infamous G.W. Bush library (Some colouring books may be checked out)? Or go for a dip in our Slobodon Milosevic Lake Of Fire? Unwind at the Damian Rice Concert Hall with our Artist-in-Residence Kenny G as he seranades you with his unique interpretations of Black Sabbath’s greatest hits?
But wait……there’s more.Act now and we’ll give you a second berth for free.That’s right..you can drag someone down with you and give them the gift that keeps on giving…….them hell.
March 3rd, 2007 at 8:23 am
! I have the inbox of the beast
That sounds so dirty you naughty gurl.
March 3rd, 2007 at 3:55 pm
You want chocolate from a VD sale? Surely antibiotics would be better.
March 3rd, 2007 at 5:21 pm
I’m not sorry Miss Queen! In fact until NTL sort out my blog woes ye shall all suffer the wrath. Carrot Top and whatever ever other gross photo I find will be the beacon of my displeasure!
FARKWAD.
March 4th, 2007 at 6:09 pm
How covenient. I have an uncle a priest.
How many drums of blessed Evian will I put you down for?
March 4th, 2007 at 10:49 pm
You know, I actually don’t know what those homemade guns are made of. Normally trying to GET AWAY from them when they’re being waved around, not generally in the mood for trading tips and techniques. I’ll ask next time.
Hi Pat, technically they mean the foot thongs when they say “no thongs” in a pub in Australia. Still, you could argue cross-Pacific semantics and see how many free drinks you get when you abide by the rules and take off the other type of thong.
March 4th, 2007 at 11:12 pm
Charlotte, I think i’d rather knock the guards out with the German bread and have the Schnapps on the way home. You are clearly an angel, what with your bearing schnapps and your cheesecake. Put a good word in for me with The Big Guy, maybe? Oh. Cheesecake. *Drool*
Joe, apparantly what some people do with their junk mail is mail it right back to the sender. I am much too lazy to bother with that but it does sem like a chance to stick it to The Man, or at least mail it to The Man.
Ms. Queen, you know, it doesn’t sound half bad when the most specific you get from Heavenly brochures is “Eternal Bliss: 24 hours a day, erm eternally.” I mean it sounds good, but will there be schnapps and cheesecake? You know, if you’re going to be laying out your immortal soul, you kind of want to know if there’s at least a bar. And I for one don’t like a whole lot of white. I’m rather hanging my hopes on a green, verdant Heaven – somewhere in Britain or Ireland perhaps.
Old Knudson, yep this beast has teeth. It’s once bitten, twice shy with me.
Kim, chocolate antibiotics! You’re a genius! My God, do you know what this means? Where this could take us? With your beard and my ability to impress financiers with the gleaming spotlessness of my apron, we could make a fortune, man!
fmc, look, I canny take the Carrot Top any more. I’m appealing to you here! Typing on my hands and knees! Spare a thought, eh? He is the devil in eh, human-like form , after all; I’ll be meeting him soon enough.
Dario, you know, I think it would be easier if you just sent your uncle. I’ll look after him; Barry’s is it? Or is he more your Jameson’s kind of a priest? I can do that too. We’ll have him back to you by Easter.
March 4th, 2007 at 11:16 pm
Carolyn, yeah! – engage the enemy in topics that interest him. It’s a whole new approach but it might just work. Of course they’ll be those that say bleeding heart liberal, but as long as you’re not literally a bleeding heart liberal, you’ll have the last laugh. Hoping all the time, of course, int he presence of the murderous gunman, that it isn’t your actual last laugh. Y’know on balance I think running away is the better tactic.
March 4th, 2007 at 11:18 pm
He’s more of a sambuca man, himself. I wouldn’t worry too much about having him back, he’s a pretty laid-back kind of guy.
He’s also likes speaking Irish. Hope you have more luck understanding it than I do.
March 4th, 2007 at 11:28 pm
A sambuca priest? Gawd, it’s all gone fancy in Ireland these days.
The more Sambuca we have, the more I’ll understand him.
March 5th, 2007 at 12:08 pm
Sam I do try to be prepared with a pretty nightie ready for emergencies, hospital and the morgue but I’m worried that if rigor mortis has set in they won’t bother struggling with a nightie and who could blame them. So there is going to be strictly no viewing.
Thank you so much for your supportive words today. I was in a bit of a state of shock. MTL just roared with laughter.
March 6th, 2007 at 12:17 pm
That’s an awful lot of hassle sam. Could I not just send on my best wishes, and hope that that will do the trick?
March 6th, 2007 at 1:27 pm
I’d send Pontefract cakes, but then you’d never get the job done, well not the one you started………
Please don’t run off to Montana cookie!
March 6th, 2007 at 3:09 pm
Sam
I’m sorry to be so slow incoming back to you, but Ireland was taken over by a huge drunken Blogdemon, and I had to send three killer priests to Dublin to deal with it.
In answer to your question: be of easy spirit. Holy Water cannot be diluted. You can add a small bottle of holy water to a lake and it will all become holy. However, salt-water neutralises holiness, or else the ocean that laps the Heathen’s shore would also be sanctified, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?
Here it is, explained in a much earlier Bockograph:
Glowing H2O particles forever transiting in Brownian serenity. Just let the blessed molecules mingle with the mortal. Do you ever remember a chap by the name of Avogadro? Maybe not, but it doesn’t matter. Avogadro did the scientific groundwork that allowed scientists to quantify the number of molecules in any small amount of stuff, and it works out to be precisely one metric fuck-load. You see, there are so many molecules in even the slightest quantity of water that they irradiate the whole lot with their holiness. Brilliant. That’s productivity.
March 6th, 2007 at 6:48 pm
“…boxes of Godiva chocolate (they?re on post VD sale!)”
- Does that look wrong to anyone else? You know what I’m talking about.
Besides…I don’t believe you’re really gone. I think you went through this whole melodramatic ordeal because you just went to the beach or something, and don’t want us to be jealous. Well, I’m not jealous…I’m about to eat a taco.
March 6th, 2007 at 7:43 pm
Pat, you’re right, pyjamas are much more practical when it comes to being interviewed by the media on your front lawn about International Incidents and when rigor mortis happens. Not so draughty and buttons all at the front.
I hadn’t considered a nightie for my coffin though – would I have to wear it through all eternity? Heaven might be forever like one of these turn-up-undressed-at exams nightmares. Will there be exams in heaven? To see if we’re maintaining proper goodness levels? I don’t expect I have to worry much about what heaven’s like. 
Kav, best wishes? Best wishes?. Good God man, it’s a battle for my immortal soul! You’re not my second at Thunder Road any more! Hmmph!
Apprentice, I looove Pontefract cakes. Send many! Could you be likening to Montana to Eternal Damnation? There’s no state speed limit there; when people cross the state line that’s where the expression “like a bat out of hell” comes from, where hell is Montana and the bat is a Chevy Trailblazer.
March 6th, 2007 at 7:49 pm
Bock, ye great robber, ye, if I understand you correctly you’re saying there’s 6 times 10 to the power of 23 molecules of holy water in a 1 molar solution. That’s perfect – just capture me a mole, send it in human conditions to me (or not – a dead one will do just as well) and I’m good to go with my holiness! Cheers!
Kara, I see your taco and raise you a peanut butter sandwich and cocoa. Who’s laughing now, eh? Hahahahahahaha!
March 6th, 2007 at 8:04 pm
D’ye think it could be the English punishing ye for all that talk of secession? That’ll teach you to support the French in the six nations. If they can get Diana, just think what they can do to you. It’ll take more than holy water. If I were you I’d lock yourself in the panic room until full Scottish independence then get the Cameron Highlanders to airlift you out.
March 6th, 2007 at 8:46 pm
Daphne, good plan. I think though, if anyone’s going to air-lift me out I’d prefer the Gordon Highlanders – they’re more able with their choppers, if you see what I’m saying…
March 7th, 2007 at 5:56 pm
Sam
Here in Ireland, that’s what we call – go on, you know, don’t you?
We call it a Holy Moley!!
March 9th, 2007 at 3:50 pm
Sam…did you get a look at the beast?
March 10th, 2007 at 2:05 am
Bock, go wan witjer holey moleys!
Joel, I got a good shot on my camera-phone but then he ate it with a satanic roar and the halitosis of the beast.