Black Doggerel

Next up on the chopping block: joeljenkins!

See this little gadget I am even now locking around your neck? It is a cunningly modified perception filter generator, fitted with state-of-the-art morphic resonance manipulators. You will remain yourself, but anyone seeing or touching you will be unshakeably convinced that you are, in fact, a rugby ball. You will then be dropped in play in the middle of the next Rugby League match you were hoping to watch, whereupon you will be gradually kicked and scrummed to death.

To add insult to injury, the unavoidable disconnect between your perceived and your actual shape will cause your team to play like a bunch of little old ladies with five legs between the lot of them, and they will suffer the worst defeat in the history of known rugby.

Buh. Came back from dog walk and thought "why are cats yelling at me?" Then I realised it was their breakfast time and not the middle of the night still. Trouble was, I'd forgotten to defrost any chicks for them last night... so I had to give them some of my cooked cold chicken. Now, they LOVE cooked cold chicken. But they still glared at me as though I were offering them fresh dogshit laced with antifreeze. Just because it wasn't what they were expecting. Cats suck!

Just time for one swift murder: Bill, you will be hypocritically prayed over and then publicly boiled with much pomp and circumstance. I will be in the front row of spectators, eating rum and raisin ice cream.

I'm crashing a little, but I promise at least one gory murder in the next entry.

The last one being late made this one late... catch up with the murders in the next one. Probably. The caffeine/adrenaline/manic energy rush is wearing off... I may not have much murder left in me.

Have some dogs:

( Dogs being good )

Argh! Slightly delayed on dog walk by mild Spike misbehaviour and photography. This entry's ten minutes late already so I'm just sticking in a swift picture post.

( Cats and dogs! )

Also, on my way out the door, I discovered that Naamah had stolen one of my cherries to play pink juice-stained cat-hockey with in the hallway. Bless.

I have now had Voodoo Child on repeat for an hour and a half. I feel I may be about to transmogrify into a cross between Anthony Ainley, Christopher Biggins and Zathras. Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.

abzdragon - I don't know you very well, although I like your journal. And your zombie. Nevertheless, you are marked for death, and this is how it will happen: You will be shut into a large box filled with a mixture of very bad instant coffee granules mixed with malt vinegar and English chip-shop curry sauce. You will have a choice between smothering in there or attempting to eat your way out: if you don't die of the smothering you will die of either culture shock or mortified taste buds.

purplewaxhand - I've known you a little longer. I know you to possess an inquiring mind and an aptitude for lateral thinking, and I think I have a good one for you. You will be locked into a bare steel room with forty-three particularly intelligent children under five, all of them at the lifestage where every other word out of their mouths is "Why?". The twist is that I will have modified your brain so that, while you retain your native curiosity, you will no longer remember any of the facts you've learned in your life. It goes without saying that the room will contain no Internet, encyclopedias or any other source of information. You will implode into a black hole of unanswerable questions - either that or the children will eat you. Children are horrid creatures.

Any more for any more? I gotta walk the dogs... I'll kill you when I get back.

What? What?? I appear to have run out of victims! Just when I was worked up into a fine frothing frenzy, too! I know, now, exactly why the Master picked this song. Play it often enough and it's like crack-laced psycho-espresso with psilocybin sprinkles. Fucking AWESOME. I'm bopping in my chair and making my dogs nervous. LOVE it.

Am also lurking in the Blogathon IRC chat where people witter away about strategies to stay awake. Me, if I just play this song eighteen or nineteen times more I will probably NEVER SLEEP AGAIN.


And here it comes, the sound of drums... Also, the song's intro is the same as Elvis Costello's Pump It Up, which just adds to its awesomeness. I'll prove it to you:

Pump It Up

Voodoo Child

EDIT: Ahhh! I has a victim! Hello abzdragon! I am just hitting post on this entry. I will go and look at your journal and come up with something chillingly appropriate. Or I may just force you to listen to this song ten million times, because it's starting to make my brain leak out of my ears. WOO HOOO!!!!

Edit the Second: purplewaxhand too! You're next!

bulletslc - Because you love good books and good television as much as I do, you are condemned to be tied to a chair, your eyes pinned open, in front of a TV showing nothing but afternoon game shows, while behind you, a monotonous yet shrill electronic voice reads out trite romance novels - the sort where there isn't even any sex. You will die screaming of a combination of sheer boredom and affronted pleasure-centres of the brain.

yesididit - Because you share my taste in dogs, you will be transported to a universe where the only dogs in existence are tiny short-legged designer mutts, so overbred that they cannot exercise, snuffle when they breathe, never stop farting and have no brains - and you will be forced to attempt to teach them agility. You will die from the combination of frustration and flatulence.

tenna - I will sneak Purity Brand Brain Bleach into your hair dye. You will instantly change from the sparkling individual you are into a whiny little drone with no talent and no imagination, and you will either shrivel and die of embarrassment or be torn to pieces by your friends and admirers yelling "WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DID YOU DO WITH OUR ERIN??!!!"

ghost07 - I will infuse some of my brain cells into yours, and you will be so confused by the sudden influx of filthy and murderous thoughts that you will run away to become an exotic dancer, whereupon you will die in a freak accident involving a pair of eighteen-inch-high Perspex platform shoes, a vicar and an inflatable sheep.

Anyone else who commented after I got this far gets killed in the next entry. Damn, I'm enjoying this. Also - the sun has risen here. Woooooo!

Mwahahaaha, I get to stay up all night AND murder people!

hopefulnebula, for you I have devised the most heinous slow torturous death imaginable: you are chained to a computer which will show you nothing but the Neoboards, where you will be required to offer help and technical support to every single poster. I suspect you would last, oh, maybe an hour before your brain exploded, Alien-fashion, out of your skull and scampered away.

Mind you, you're good; I think you'd last a good 55 minutes longer then I would.

gaseousanomaly... Hmmm. Oh, I know! First we glue an Enterpriser mask made of lifelike living plastic over your features, so that you're indistinguishable from the real thing. Then we fit your keyboard with a device that inserts 4-40 random legalese gobbledegook phrases and 2-6 random kitten pictures every time you try and type a sentence. Then we supply every other TrekBBS user with one of those devices that delivers an electric shock via your keyboard whenever they press the big red button.

...It'd hurt. But I suspect it'd be over quickly.

boywhocantsayno ...for you, I have reserved the worst fate of all. You have to come over here and clean my kitchen. Trust me... it's a death sentence.

The rest of you can die in the next entry. I think I need more coffee... or more Scissor Sisters.

Comment here and I'll tell you how I'd murder you. If I were going to murder you, that is. I'm not normally in the habit of murdering people, but I find that doesn't stop it being fun thinking of cool ways to do it.

*manic grin*

How many boards would the Mongols hoard if the Mongol hordes got bored?

The Mongols hoard, not boards, but Fnord! Fnord discord, praise the Lord! And Bob knows, you never get bored when you have Fnord.

The weirdest thing Spike ever did was the time he chased Bloaty through the Stargate, and found himself facing a horde of mingled Mongols, Daleks, Borg and Dementors. Fortunately, the Daleks could only fire over their heads, the Dementors were distracted by being assimilated and the Borg were dealing with being exterminated; by the time it was all over Genghis Khan was the only one left standing. Thanks to the Borg implants, he was able to hypnotise his way into being the next Minister of Magic.

...does that answer all the questions raised in the last entry?