'ere 'e comes, come squirt me lot,
chasing me with a hose
that's aimed at an jet-uzi pressure...
i dart in the garden to
and fro...
look at him... quiet frankly:
look at me... i am the lord
of the mansion...
all he ever wanted before his
four abysmal relationships
was to fulfil the pledge he whispered
in the Taize community...
being dragged from it by two
courting girls...
one who was to become
a model and ride that carousel of sorts
to monte carlo and pose
with plushy toys and chihuahua
on yachts of those alpha males
nearing limp dick age...
only today he was playing
a coup strategy on a game...
war robots... once a week the game
developers showcase new robots
and give access to everyone
(whether those who have invested
in ad-ons, and those who laboured
like jews over saving gold,
raising silver over the new strategy
of the "free game" - the inexhaustible game...
the waiting game) to the skirmish mode...
the gaming developers made
new improvements: he telepathetically
tells me...
they reduced the daily rewards from
30 / 40 pieces of gold to 20...
but they also created this new
reward system...
skirmish mode doesn't apply
your league ranking...
he's boasting about reaching expert
level III without having spent
any money on the game...
god he's so detailed about...
what others take as books to
the library of the shitter...
he says: a stressed anus,
stretched after the turd dumb gives
him the edge...
so the new system allows you
to reap all the benefits...
not daily rewards...
or how you can gain points on those
by, "watching" a free advert video...
to gain "progress"...
this new avenue: only explored
when the skirmish mode is active...
i.e. so you don't gamble with
ranking points...
the game is, is rigged...
an expert III rank will probably land
you in a match-up with
a master I rank (the highest of
the master rank, III being the lowest),
or a champion...
besides the point...
the poor shit-lord told me...
level up carnage to level 9...
then somehow, somehow...
get 1500 of gold in one afternoon...
i'm astounded,
he managed it...
now he's all semi-drunk gloating about
how he managed to "cheat"
the system...
and he's currently laughing about...
those kazakhs...
those russians, those ukranians,
those chinese children of oligarachs...
how they would spend...
real money... in the range of
500 to over 2000 quid on quick-cheats
on a game that's, "supposedly"...
"free"...
he says: i remember games of
strategy in the old days...
but none of them involved real money...
well, sure, real money...
you spent 20 quid on a game
and learned strategy from scratch...
but give me a break!
i'm working with a handicap over 'ere!
people do spend money on "free" games...
others? like him? they wait...
now he set out what he wanted to do...
carnage level 9 with level 9 twin
zeus heavy cannons...
IT'S A FUCKING GAME!
i tell him...
but he tells me...
i haven't played a strategy game
like this... in a long time...
no... wait... ever!
you actually have to conceive a concept
of money...

he's heard of the many real life situations
where people scam other people for
money in order to buy google-play
gift-cards in order to top up on...
half the drug of marihuana...
and not even twice the naproxen value
of "feeling good"...
can you even begin to see that real
strategy in the game?
it's multilayer...
usually the people who make something,
don't really know what it's for...
they're there for the quick buck...
they'll design new candy toys
and the candy kids will buy 'em up!
time... it takes time...
first you have to make a strategy of
the gold you earn / fake earning,
the gold for improvements...
but then there's the game play...
crucial point of interest?
he says beacon rush is too fast...
10 minute arenas are best...
he played one game that ended in a draw...
favorite mode of gameplay?
domination...
nothing doom / duke nuke 'em 3D
rape gameplay...
an elevated game of chess -
crucial positions...
the beacons act like the king chess piece...
or the queen chess piece...
or the bishop... all the robots are akin
to pawns with chess king moves...
the king is actually static...
he only "moves' by being persuaded
by the two opposing parties...
he's both James 6th and the 1st...
the central beacon...
he persists: it's an elevated form of chess...
to play chess you'd need
someone to play with you...
and he says he's both an only child (but
not of the chinese state policy)
and a "solipsist" (air quotes are his)...
so he blames me for not having thumbs...
i blame him for not having needle precision
nails to climb trees in a hurry...
here he comes back telling me about
his "failed" relationships...
try telling that to a levitating stone
about a stack of them making it upright
in a mountain...
if sex was always the, base...
exchange rate?
and he went to a prostitute?
sex was the only chain to the bollocks?
he's apparently met prostitutes
who were the most wonderful women...
and daughters of rich men
who were the most vile dinner company...
somehow the sex didn't translate...
he'd love to have sex with the rich girls
for years...
fuck prostitutes for an hour...
but talk with them for aeons...
while with the rich girls?
how much, for, the, sugar beetroot rouge
on your face?
it's not about games...
it's about: what games you play...
somehow chess is what?
fucktard game of indian peasants
that the hindu raj didn't invent when
becoming tired of harems and pistons yet
to be invented?!
clever little boy...
he finally met me in a dream,
i sure hope me saving his ass from what he
called the little horror will give me
more assurance as to leisure myself
in his room while he smokes tobacco
into the night and sometimes in the room...
tobacco somehow sooths me...
it reminds me of a burning fireplace...
and smoked fish...
i'm no Behemoth...
i've heard i'm his twice removed nephew...
hence the clue in the name: QUA RUS...
some people transliterate the A in QUA as:
QUO - O... i have to remind them...
not only isn't it: QUORUS...
it's QUARUŚ...

the diminutive concept is yet to come
to fruition in the germanic languages...
notably english...
with... what's currently gripping ziz zunge...
i very much doubt english will
make it out of the new dark ages...
just saying...
why is he still obsessing about fathoming
a future as a proper monk...
from the age of 21 through to itching
on 34... only prostitutes
and that one cacoon sex trap
with a Spanish Tamara being tamed
by 3 homosexual flatmates...
a "birthday" party where he banged
a black girl to the point where he didn't
know whether his testickles were attached
to his pevils or to her coccyx...
and that bisexual thai surprise...
he will still tell people it was a girl...
but maybe, otherwise... who knows!
by my aritchmetic... 34 - 21... 13! 13 years!
no relationship...
either he's really lucky...
or... the women who could have been
with him are, the lucky ones.

he's not complaining...
he reached his metaphysical mecca
today by making deep fried buffalo wings
with that... blue cheese dip...
some variation proportion of:
mayo... sour cream... buttermilk...
blue cheese... onion powder... etc.,
if no one was supposed to dance
on the sun... the sun was supposed
to dance on this fucker's head...
to him it's still: Taize Taize Taize...
or Marienburg Marienburg Marienburg...
although he says:
but the god doesn't fit my concerns...
i can't keep up with either
Hey-Zeus and Je'soos!

i'd pretty much agree. the nag hammadi library
complicates the matters of advocating
a... ha ha... a... "career" in being a monk...
talk about the "coincidental" double-A-asshole-bomb
going off in 1945...
and what's with the knees?
i too would ask...
is that... seeing whether something
that's supposed to be "there",
isn't, "there"? or is that...
just the submissive suck-off pose?
he says: well if any of the muslims are laughing...
i can't quiet imagine
doggy style without the sujud...
gentlemen! asses clearly raised in the air
for allah almighty's ego transmission
anal implant!

i can imagine sex when it comes to
ruku and julus also...
the ruku? well she has to be gripping onto
something while bending over like that...
probably the side of the bed...
julus? cowboy ride a ding-dong all her life...
for a very masculine god...
she sure has a funny way
of strapping on a dildo and fucking
her, ahem, "godfearing" worshippers
5 times a day...

i only get half of the recently discovered
telepathic conversations we have
with each other...
as long as he gives me his bed
for 4 hours when he smokes
and perhaps puts on some Prokofiev on...
or... i'll here some broken
bollocks about:
the first wife of Muhammad...
Khadija bint Khuwaylid...
taking the piss out of Muhammad's
antics after her death...
how her favorite author is some
Stephen Vizinczey...
how she's kebab rolling Muhammad
in his grave, scolding the illiterate prophet...
who was the first person to believe
you! who was the first person to write
your godforsaken surahs!
who! mothers of the "believers"
my rotting ass...

the moment i died you became
a rabid arab dog!
the same spoilt brat your were supposed
to become!
milking people for being
an oprhan! who raised you!
your uncle!
who became your mother?
i became your mother,
and now you call whores...
the mothers of believers!

the same sort of mothers that were given
the curse of the black gold...
and wasted it?!

right now?
being a cat: i don't even know who the hell
is speaking in this insomniac auditorium.

that other girl from Taize?
she knew he just wanted to play the guitar...
he didn't bring his own and was
hoping to borrow one...
and he wanted to borrow one and borrow one,
that came a time when he had one in his hand
and... eh... fuck it... he thought...
and played a very basic blues standard
very quietly and then...
having satisfied his itching fingers...

went "abroad" to satisfy his very itchy
tongue of ego... that...
seemed to lessen and lessen...
into actually becoming an electrocuted
oyster found behind the gates
of 32 pearls.