The Christ Caper
The rain fell almost hard enough to wash the lice out of the beggars’ beards. Almost. These were Jerusalem lice. You didn’t survive in Jerusalem long without being tough and those critters hung on and dug in like relatives at a rich man’s funeral. It had been six months since the case I’d labelled the Jerusalem Caper for my memoirs and things were back to normal for me. A few jobs here and there and those were lousy. My office had me for company and I think it was considering suicide. I couldn’t blame it. The scholars, priests, guards, and vendors were all hurrying through the downpour to wherever it was they were going. It didn’t look like any of them were hurrying to my office. The early evening had all the hallmarks of looking like another quiet one with my feet on the desk sipping fermented prune juice. "Sam, there’s a Mister Hired Goon to see you." That was Effie Perine of Judea, my loyal and long-suffering secretary. Maybe I’d drifted off for a few seconds because I hadn’t heard her come in. I was briefly annoyed. That’s the sort of thing that can get you killed in this line of business, not that I had much to fear lately. You don’t become the target of reprisals when you’re spending most of your time looking for missing cats. There was a hulking great shadow in the doorway behind Effie. He pushed himself into the room. "Let me guess," I ventured dismissively. "You’re a Goliath lookalike and some runt called David is muscling in on your territory." Mister Hired Goon didn’t appreciate the humour and made for my desk brushing Effie out of the way. I didn’t appreciate the way he knocked her. We all have our limits. I reached for the Smith & Ishmael .22 Slingshot from the drawer but never had a chance. Damn! He was fast. "Damn! You’re fast!" I thought he deserved to hear what I was thinking. I thought the flattery might buy me some time too while I considered my position pushed up against the wall with my feet inches clear of the floor. "Little Pee-Pee has a job you will be interested in." His breath stank of garlic. I let him have the full force of prunes in return. "He didn’t want to come here personally?" I asked. "That’s not Little Pee-Pee’s way." I was dropped to the ground. I made a mental note to buy sandals with more cushioning. A moment later and my offerer of employment had left. In my hand I held the small stone calling tablet he’d left....
Hunting The Japanese
Sustainable Hunting There are over 128 million people in Japan making them a very abundant species. Any hunting of the Japanese must be performed with the idea of sustainability firmly in mind. Although population growth is declining the number of new births per year is currently around 1 million. A suggested figure of 365,000 legal kills per year is well within the margin for maintaining the Japanese. Plus that makes it 1000 per day which is easy to remember. Identifying A Japanese The balance of nature’s humans may be disrupted by aggressive hunting that results in the accidental trophies of non-Japanese. Be certain that you are pursuing and catching only Japanese. Identification of the Japanese comes with practice. A. Not a Japanese. B. Not a Japanese. C. A Japanese. D. Not a Japanese. Non-Japanese people and things can sometimes appear to be Japanese at first glance. Careless hunting can antagonise our international allies and make it difficult to retain support for hunting of the Japanese for scientific or commercial reasons. A. Not a Japanese. B. Not a Japanese. C. Not a Japanese. D. A Japanese. The Japanese commonly move around in family pods (or Nissans) and generally live in peace with their neighbours. Now. They often cross great distances to photograph them and it is possible to find a Japanese almost anywhere. How many Japanese can you spot in the picture below? Answer: 25. There is one Japanese in B3, one Japanese in B4, and twenty three Japanese in A2. The person in B1 with the camera is not a Japanese. How did you do? Hunting Techniques The harpoon is still used to some extent but other techniques have been developed during the latter half of the twentieth century. Camera Trap · The latest Nikon Digital SLRs dotted around spiked pits will lure in most Japanese. Sharpened bamboo is ideal for the spikes and will help your Japanese prey battle with irony – a distractive activity against pain – as it bleeds out. Godzilla · Radioactively mutated monsters can be used to herd Japanese into underground protective bunkers previously prepared for their incarceration. This is the most humane method of capture and is therefore not used very often. Hunting Questions Answered Is it cruel? Cruelty is defined by society and in my society we say ‘No’. Yes, but is it? Yes. What uses are there for Japanese after the hunt? The epicanthic folds over the eyes are used to decorate cakes. Is it okay to hunt the Icelandic and Norwegians too? Yes, but they contain lots of gristle and do not make good...
Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, Baby Photos
All this fuss over Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie having baby pictures. Brad and Angelina with baby picture. Awwww. It’s only recently that Angelina became interested in human babies. Years before she met Brad and had a child with him she was more interested in other sorts of newborns and offspring. In the photo below you can see the beautiful Miss Angelina Jolie with pictures of her various babies. There’s a monkeylet (young monkey), a baby squirrel, and a kitten. And, if you look carefully, two decidedly adult...
Prepare To Be Possessed!
It’s almost time for possession season to start and I know that you’ve probably been too busy to prepare yourself for whichever one of the many manifestations will manipulate your mind this year what with all the fuss about the World Cup and the approaching asteroid about to destroy all life on Earth but never fear! for the world’s leading, self-proclaimed possessxpert™ is on hand. Possession By Cats 1. Take up yoga. You’re going to try to lick various parts of your anatomy during your mastered-by-feline-forces phase and a good yoga class will prevent you from suffering a slipped disc or dislocated pelvis upon your return to human control. 2. Contract a carpenter. A local carpenter should be employed to re-hang all the doors in your house with hinges on the top. 3. Make a collar. A tie and a hubcap are ideal for this. Write the phone number of a relative large and legibly on your new collar so that someone can be contacted should you become lost or trapped in a shed. 4. Cover everything in newspapers. Beds, chairs, the floor, everything. You will be irresistibly drawn to the feel of paper and suffer great longings to paw the material and lay on it. It will also absorb much of your drool and protect your furniture during your twenty three hours sleeping shifts. 5. Wear a chastity belt. Furries operate in this area. 6. Purchase a permanent marker pen. This one is for men only. Write the words “DO NOT REMOVE” on your testicles. Try not to think too much why this is vitally important. Possession By William Shatner 1. New shoes. A pair of stout walking boots or a good quality pair of leather uppers are essential in protecting the feet following a spate of flying kicks at people. 2. Denny Crane. Denny Crane. Possession By The French 1. Purchase a fire-proof safe. Store all your sheep inside it. 2. Dye all your linen. You will find it hard to resist surrendering at every opportunity while under the influence so make it more difficult by removing easy access to anything white. 3. Pre-book a massage appointment. After the possession season finishes it will be difficult to find a masseur with an open slot (please refrain from inserting your own double entendres here thankyou) owing to a rush of post-shrugging, muscle-tension treatment sessions. 4. Plenty of make-up. You’ll need a lot to cover the thick skin you’ll grow after having to put up with racial stereotype jokes and comments during the entire period of your possession. Possession By Writer’s Block 1. 2. 3. Possession By Calvin Klein...
The Lying Turbot
Hi there! I know we haven’t spoken before so let me take the time to introduce myself: I’m The Lying Turbot. You have to capitalise the first letter of each word in The Lying Turbot because that’s my name. I’m not just blessed with having a name that starts with the definite article and having fishy scales to die for; there’s lots more of interest about me too. I’m almost nine hundred years old. I bet you didn’t know that turbot and mackerel lived so long but we do and it’s all down to the fact that it was us who saved St Peter from the wolves that overran Carthage in 82 C.E. and we’ve been blessed by God ever since. We’re holy fish. I know I said I’m only about nine hundred years old but I met St Peter once too as we elderly fish know the secrets of time travel. That’s the sort of thing you learn when you get to be our age. You know, very little surprises you any more when you’re as old as us and capable of travelling through the seventh dimension. Oh yes, that’s right, time is the seventh dimension. I think a lot of your so-called scientists think it’s the fourth but they’re missing some really quite obvious ones. I’m sworn not to expose exactly what they are because of my membership in the Temporal Mafia but I can confirm that after depth the next dimension has a closer affinity to the feeling that you’re about to wet the bed than any notion of linear progression across the universal continuum. It’s really great being in the Temporal Mafia. You get to whack lots of species and collect protection money from famous trees through the ages. There are lots of turbot in the Temporal Mafia as you’d expect what with our incredible strength and hive mind and many of them are me at different junctions in the dimensionsphere. I’m really great company. Napoleon loved spending time with me because of my military insight and also because I was slightly shorter than him and it made him feel good. But then he tried it on one evening after wine and I told him "Not tonight, you screaming queen" and I was out of there as fast as my little legs could carry me. And then Wellington beat Napoleon. That’s right, I’ve got legs too. You didn’t think having legs was something only humans have, did you? I paint mine invisible most of the time because it would make the other fish jealous if they saw them but I do know some turbot who...
Alligators
Last year there was trouble in the White House. President Bush had been photographed performing fellatio on his dog, evidence implicating Donald Rumsfeld in a hands-on role in the paper-cutting (with lemon juice) of journalists had been leaked to journalists otherwise cut-free or lemon-resistant, and a Toronto-based mariachi group touring the west wing had been inadvertently led into Dick Cheney’s Leather Suite and unceremoniously liquidated straining relations with Canada. Luckily, the news channels were full of shark attacks and the events magically blew away like cigarette ash on a child’s head in a hurricane. But that was last year. Aarghh! Alligators are attacking Americans! I spent the formative years of my life being raised by alligators, the result of an accidental toilet flushing by my parents. The sewers were ruled – and had been since the Victorian era – by the giant reptiles who loved to go through the jetsam that found its way there but times were difficult thanks to a surge in goldfish numbers. Unrestrained by bowls or polythene bags or suits from Saville Row with no give in the waist these unwanted orange swimmers had grown to immense sizes – some as large as gorillas (of which there were a handful too) – and developed a vicious intelligence and spiteful fury too. I was given protection by the eldest alligator and treated as if I was his own child. He bit his own child a lot and hit it with his tail and it annoyed me no end when I received the same attention but I understood the ways of the alligator and showed due respect and humility. Also, the numerous infections that built up pus bubbles along my alligator wounds made me dizzy and weak and I was in no position to fight back. Plus I was only two years old. Nevertheless, my superior brain and ability to read English was soon in use aiding my underground brethren and we defeated the fish foe using techniques from a discarded copy of The Strategies And Military Doctrines of Earl Mountbatten’s Campaign In Burma (1943-1946): Goldfish Guerilla Warfare Tactical Edition. I returned to the surface several years later with wisdom and experience beyond most men’s but, till now, the knowledge I held of alligators in general has been relegated to a filing cabinet marked "The Stinking Nightmare From My Childhood After My Parents Got Drunk During A 70s Swingers Party". So, with alligators making the news again – or, more accurately, making the real news disappear again – what should we know about them? Why Are The Alligators Attacking? A common question raised at the moment is...
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