Monday, October 31, 2005

Spooky

I woke Sunday morning with a sore neck, with a foul taste on my tongue, a pounding head, and what appeared to be goat's blood slicking my forearms. What had happened last night? Racking what humourously passes for my brains, I remembered staggering with some shadowy figure across an equally shadowy golf-course somewhere in the wilds of the south-eastern suburbs, towards the sounds of bacchanalia. Had someone invited me to some sort of vile, sweat-soaked orgy, there to partake in such acts of depravity and debauchery as might make a lesser man quail? Had someone else insisted I dance with them the forbidden dance (i.e. the Nutbush)? And had still another watched on as I dragged sacrifices to the altar of Our Dark Masters, slowly chanting the black chant of Shub-Niggurath? Surely not, surely not!

The rational explanation is of course this: demonic possession. It being Hallowe'en time and all, Melbourne is currently awash with unclean spirits and boggins, all looking to snare an innocent choirboy like myself with their wicked wiles. Hallowe'en is a potentially dangerous period for those unlearned in the ways of ghosts, ghouls and things that go bump in the night. There being none so unlearned as those who read this blog on a regular basis, I've opted to post a few quick tips for safely enjoying All Hallow's Eve.

1. Speaking with dead friends and relatives via ouija boards may sound like fun, but remember that they will likely spend most of the time complaining that you don't keep in touch any more. Death rarely improves people.
2. Don't worry about vampires. There are no such things, just goths who believe that wearing a cape is an acceptable substitute for wearing deodorant.
3. Stock up on goats if you plan a demon summoning. It takes ages to get it right.
4. By far the scariest creature abroad during Halloween is the tax-man. Fill in your tax returns if you haven't already, people. This is your last chance. I know I will be - a 3 to 5 stretch for tax evasion is not healthy for fancy-boys like myself. They make you do things in prison, things that are not natural (i.e. making licence-plates).
5. Remember: trick or treaters are only children. They are therefore best dealt with with a quick punch to the cheaply-bought mask, or M&M's dipped in laxatives, depending whether you're after instant gratification, or like your vengeance served cold.
6. If, like me, you wake up suffering from delusions of having attended some sort of unholy ritual, then, like me, you should probably take your medication more often.

5 comments:

Ben said...

I tell you what Jon, I've never had a sore neck this bad.

I'm thinking it had something to do with the over-enthusiastic rocking out to Sweet Child Of Mine.

I can see that freaking Zimmer frame in the distance already.

--Oh and thanks many a bunch for the Tequila, it's numbing the neck pain as we speak.
And the mssage in the guest book?

Gold my friend.

divinetrash said...

I am bitterly disappointed to discover that I missed out on a good, old-fashioned rock out.

Although, 'Sweet Child O' Mine' is nothing compared to the potential rock-out one can experience at the hands of 'November Rain'. I can do a Slash impersonation with some truly inspired air guitar. (I need to get me one of those hats!)

Jon said...

I think a 'November Rain' rock-out would have killed me. The head-banging required for 'Sweet Child' was nearly enough to put a fragile lad like me in a neck brace. Damn fun, though.

ManicLovely said...

Doesn't everybody dip their m&m's in laxatives? Wow, now i feel really lonely.
I also agree that goths smell, but you have to imagine what it would be like to not have normal clothes, terribly uncomfortable. My imaginary lover JMcKay always wears sexy black jeans and he washes them tri-monthly, but he is still sexy. What does your imaginary lover wear downstairs? Was that too personal?
Anybody ever tell you that your blog is too bright? My eyes hurt.

Jon said...

I would require any imaginary lover I took to wear exactly the same as I do 'neath my leggings: chainmail. It is uncomfortable but tres chic. This blog is best viewed in sunglasses.