alittlepoison

Received ominous looking envelope through the door slot today (all envelopes addressed without handwriting are ominous [type print equals system, order, amounts due are payable to, threatening etcetera - in short, requests much money.] and I don’t know how they find me) which meant that they’d found me.

As certain and infinite as pi was the amount payable - the decimal point located on the thirteenth page - the background colour bled heavily, fluorescent red and dangerous.

Scavenging through the waste-paper basket (brimming full with bright red flouresence, breathing heavily like an over stuffed pig ripe for the slaughtering) I plucked out the gravy stained bank statement of Tuesday last.

Dazedly comparing (scanning left, right, repeatedly) the numbers on the bank statement and the threatening address (then equating into the sum alcohol consumed [and subsequent moneys spent] and employment undertook [or lack thereof] between the period of this day and Tuesday last) I arrived at the conclusion that I was, to borrow (sadly, with interest) the economical proverb, utterly fucked beyond all recognition.

Dread washed over me - dry mouth, muscle weaken, dizzy crumble, skinny flop to the floor.

I dragged my soon-to-be knee cap dented, blood stained carcass toward the fridge.

And drank.

The threatening post, clenched with dead man’s grip, glowed ferociously through my left hand phalanges. Skipping between random words upon the page I discerned the following.

breach… ablett… greatest Australian footballer of all time… upstart… kill… po faced junky photo on ALP website… kindly… up the ass…

And so now I urge all believers to pledge generously to the following fund, charity, religion:

THE GARY ABLETT USERNAME ROYALTIES CORPORATION FUCKED ME OVER FUND, CHARITY, RELIGION.

Their, ahem, official. Autherised by God and all.

Just 493,000,000,000,012 bazillions to go!

There will be a live TV Charity-athon on ITV12 this Tuesday at 4am featuring Elvis. Tune in! (Still room for more acts, anyone?)