Sunday, April 27, 2008

Johnny Rumble:
Six Gallons of Serial Head Fuck

The sheer gravity of the situation must be shared equally among all bodies present and accounted for with the confining space that we as humanoids must coexist peacefully in together so as that we might better understand why the fuck we are crammed into a tiny box with no light. Or we can just say the idea came from a song and call it good.

The house was quiet except for the sounds of rhythmic moaning and grunting coming from the upstairs guest room. It could only mean one thing to her.

“Hubby found his partner for the night.” She sighed. “Least somebody is getting some action around here.”

She slid silently into the kitchen to fix herself some scrambled eggs, yet found none to be had in the fridge. Her thoughts again turned to the rhythmic pounding upstairs and scrunched her face tightly. That’s going to stain the sheets, She thought to her self. “Might as well hope they haven’t used them all up in their fun and games.”

Her footsteps were intentionally heavy going up the wooden stairs to tell them they were about to be intruded upon. Pausing at the door, the moaning got louder and more vulgar, but She continued after taking a deep breath. Barely touching the doorknob, the entire door seemed to keel over, and then it did, falling to the floor with a great clatter that was sure to wake the neighbors at this time of night. Her husband was unfazed by this new development in his quest to plough his partner senseless and kept at it, even taking the time to turn his head and wave to his wife between thrusts.

She watched them for a few moments before recognizing her husbands partner. “Hey Steve.” Steve lifted his head off the pillow and smiled at her. She walked over the bed and kissed Steve on the cheek in friendship. His brow was sweaty, or it wasn’t sweat at all. She curled up on the stripped mattress next to Steve and watched him accept her husband from behind. She herself would be turned on if she wasn’t so bored with the idea.

All three of them made small talk while she watched her husband plunge his self into Steve. Finally, she asked, “Have you two used all the eggs in the house? Or are there a couple left over?” Steve reached over to the end table and handed her a couple of eggs. She again kissed Steve on the cheek and kissed her husband on the lips. The both of them looked quite bored with what they were doing, but She left them to their own devices. As she exited the room, her husband came and She witnessed yellow yolk run down the inside of his thigh. She shrugged and lifted the door back on it's hinges.

It was the next morning when He walked down the stairs. He was fortunate enough to have gotten a shower that morning to rinse of the trails of egg and semen across his body. Seeing his wife sprawled across the couch reading the morning paper, he padded over to her and kissed her. “I’ve got the next three days off. Why don’t we go on a vacation? To the redwoods? Or to see your mother?”

“That sounds like a good idea honey, but not to my mothers. Last time we were there, she thought she was a prostitute,” she responded.

“At least she didn’t get the Furry idea in her head. Come is so difficult to get out of fuzz.” He dug around in the pantry and found what he was looking for. Chocolate cake. Thick, dark, moist with a cherry garnish. He giggled to himself at his own dirty thoughts. “So it’s settled then. To the Redwoods we will go.” He heard his wife gasp in shock and looked up from his cake. “What is it?”

“There was a crash on the I-5 last night. Hundred and fifty people killed. Police described the scene as a slaughter of human flesh,” she red aloud. He just grunted that he was listening. She continued, “Among the dead were a Nobel prize winner, five nuns and Jean Luc Godard. And, oh god this is tragic, a truck full of Prada and Gucci merchandise!”

He dropped his plate on the counter. “No, it can’t be true! A whole truck! What a disaster!”
“Yes, it says it right here, ‘purses, clutches, various articles of clothing, and the driver of the truck. An epic disaster indeed.”

“Damn it.” He clenched his fist and pounded it on top of the rest of his cake. He sighed, “Oh well, you best get your things together. If we want to make it, we’ll have to go soon.”

The road was a long and winding one. If She wasn’t so used to his driving fast, She would be retching out the side window. As it stood, he was actually being rather conservative today. He had only hit about a half dozen woodland creatures in the two hours they had been driving. She turned down the rather violent rap music that was booming out of the stereo.

“You know what really bugs me today? Humanity. Humanity bugs me. What ever happened to culture, museums and education. Look at the younger people. All they care about is clothes and music that extols the virtues of ‘bitches and hoes,’ playing violently bloody video games. They don’t care about anyone else but themselves. Me, me, me, mentality. It’s sickening. Heck, the other day, I saw a young man mug an old lady, and another pass a car crash without a thought about stopping to help the poor people in the car. I tell you, society has failed. Racism is running rampant in the youth. It's sickening what they do to each other these days. Drive by shootings, lynchings...Look honey, a nigger on the side of the road, get closer and I’ll get him with the door.”
She flung open the door at the right time and sent the man sprawling on the pavement. She was sure she broke his back with the door. “I mean, whatever happened to class and helping other people in need and being kind to your neighbors? It’s a sad, sad world we live in darling. The youth are lost.”

They drove along in silence for a few miles before he hit the brakes to avoid an overturned car on the side of the road. They slowed down and passed the wreck in a crawl. Blood was everywhere. On the asphalt, the grass, the trees, the car, limbs were strewn about, a half a head was lying on the dividing line. Part of the car was engulfed in flames, and a rather large, portly woman was hanging out of the sunroof screaming in pain and screaming for help in saving her luggage. Both the husband and wife surveyed the chaos around them and drove on by. He quipped, “That’s what they get for by cheap French junk.” They sped up and continued on.

“The woods are nice this time of year. So much fresh air. The smell of pine trees and flowers. It’s great!” He really was enjoying himself thoroughly. His wife stopped momentarily to look at a flower.

“Such beauty, such innocence, such frailty,” she said, crushing the flower between her fingers, “such is the way of life.”

“Look,” he poked his wife in the head, “Down the trail. Somebody’s coming.”

They watched intently, and heard the person, now distinguishable as a woman muttering to her self and reading from a notebook, “My word, this story is excellent. ‘The old lady was clever enough and he thought that if she had started from any of the right premises, more might have been expected of her. She lived according to the laws of her own fantasy world outside of which he had never seen her set foot. The law of it was to sacrifice herself for him after she had first created the necessity to do so by making a mess of things.’ How deep! ‘If he had permitted her sacrifices, it was only because her lack of foresight had made them necessary.’”

The husband and wife just looked at each other with quizzical faces. He reached into his pocket slowly and brought out a lighter. A twinkle was set into his eye as he flicked it to life. He whispered to his wife, “Let’s burn her.” She nodded in agreement and jumped on the woman’s back. He brought the open flame to the woman’s simple dress and caught it on fire. Husband and wife held hands as they watched the old southern mental case become consumed in flames and let out agonizing screams. Smiles crept across their faces as the screaming died down into horrible silence. When the woman was nothing up a pile of ashes, He turned to his wife and said, “I never like Flannery O’Connor anyway.”

She kissed him on the end his nose and they continued down the trail.

“Wait”, She heard him say, “Do you hear that? Like a dialogue?” She paused and focused on the sounds of the forest. She heard nothing though. “Hang on, maybe it needs to be tuned.” Her husband went over and kicked a tree a number of times, each time a sound becoming louder and louder.

“Static,” She said, “simple static.”

“Hang on,” he snapped a tree limb off and every thing came into starling clarity. A voice from the heavens opened up.

“Because happiness that it is proposed to us declines only in cash, because the success is material and that the joy must amount, that selfishness is asserted like a virtue to raise, because one mistakes the ideals which are erased in front of the careers, and that one continues to judge on the car and the wages…”

“Where is that voice coming from?” She looked around and spun in circles until her husband grabbed her.

“It is the divine command! We are listening to the divine being right now! Listen!”

“Because one refuses parts with the cold hand of the unemployed and that one always thinks in borders and nationalities. Because the imbeciles are lost with the wallets of our owners, and that there are always ministers and senators, the elite ones and deputies, because the world is well managed so that that lasts a long time and that one buys with credit and dead freedom which obliges us to continue.”

“It sounds like His Divineness is an anarchist. Big time anarchist,” she flatly stated. “Perhaps the Government got it all wrong.”

“Of Course they did my dear, the Constitution is soaked in the blood of millions. HE hates order. Listen.”

“Because the revolution will not come, it is necessary to go away!”

“Hmm, so that’s what we’ve been doing wrong all these years,” she said, “Oh look, a rabbit!”

Friday, April 18, 2008

Johnny Rumble:
New Projects!

So I've been thinking much lately about what I want to do for some new projects.

1.) Recreate our logo's (top and bottom of page) properly with spray paints and an asphalt street. I'm not seeing to big an issue with this one concidering there are many many...many unused streets on Beale, and I'd be willing to paint over the graffiti with black when I get the photos I need. Now I just need to figure out what channels to go through to see if this is possible.

2.) Tank Girl tribute jacket. I'm going to do this one with another old camo jacket thoughtfully provided by my e-xgirlfriend's father. Cut off the sleeves and pockets, splash some bleach on it, and paint away! One side is gonna have Tank Girl in a pin up style with her famous rocket bra, the other will have some memorable quotes from both the movie and comics, with a caricature of Camp Koala and some other stuff. On the back will be the Tanks. One from the movie, one from the comics on either side of this, with a huge background image of the British Bullseye. This is one I'm gonna look foward to.

3.) Socially Ill battle helmet. More paint, but I'll use Spray Krylon and cut out 3x5 cards. Maybe a fox tail off the back too. Fucked up is the goal basically.

Johnny Rumble

Monday, April 14, 2008

Johnny Rumble:
"You did WHAT with WHO?!"

I worry about the future.

And I don't mean mine. At least, not this time. I'm still in the same deep shit hole as last time.

I mean them.

The Future.

Your children. Thier children. My children. Even though mine are still missing half thier chromosomes. This past weekend moved me. Shifted me. Literally. I had to baby sit. Kid sit. An eight year old.

"You mean, some morons left a small child to your care?"

Yes. I kid sit. Again. The same kid. The only kid I ever sit.

But it was such a moving experience. This kid is the most perfect kid ever. He does his chores, he's quiet (for an eight year old), he believes in God. And most of all...he dosen't question.

Dosen't. Question.

Sheep to the slaughter.

How is this small child going to grow up and become an impacting member of society if he dosen't question his boundries, dosen't question his surroundings, dosen't question what he believes? Dosen't question his government?

No, it's not another politcal rant.

But what if? What if? Metropolis?

And then there's now.

I had a big desire to charm this girl from Michigan. But she has a boyfriend.
I had a big desire to charm this girl from class. But she has a fiance.
I had a big desire to charm this girl from Amsterdam. But she was a long way away.
I had a big desire to charm this girl from Loma Rica. But she was too nice.
I had a big desire to charm this girl from my imagination. But she has a boyfriend too.
I had a big desire to charm this girl from Michigan. But she has a boyfriend.
And she asked that I don't.


I'm sour now. Vingear and War-Heads sour. Most everybody I know has or had some sort of life plan they have set out. Most of the people I know joined the military, or are setting to get out, or are leaving for boot camp. Those that didn't have a job and a apartment...or house...already. I'm still with my parents. At 21. Without a job that really pays me enough, and a deadbeat college with professers that frankly cause me real worry.

Damn it. It's 2 in the morning, I'm talking to Lindsey, I'm depressing myself, and at least on some level, I don't really care.

Night all,

Johnny Rumble

Saturday, April 05, 2008

Johnny Rumble:
100% Uncommited

I am now uncommited... people love not drinking meaningful sex in the flesh friends emotions

I am commited... apathy the bottle. Again.
...tospending my 21st in an alcoholic haze finishing Johnny's Folly in the style of The Departed getting over it

I am...

...over it (that was fast)
...hopefully making something of myself
...making a friend or two.
...Johnny Rumble

You are...

...bad at giving head
...viewing a Peter Pan complex like it's a bad thing
...emotionally insecure, physically unsure, and unable to take a true compliment.
...on my "apathy" list. Have fun!

Johnny Rumble

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

It's not alright and I'm not calmed down.

Prologue: Bad Luck
Ian looked up from his textbook as the door chimed and let out a sigh. Well the sign does say eleven in the morning, guess I’ll have to write that paper tomorrow.

“Morning Sir, what can I get you today?”

The man walked over to a table in the corner, hanging his jacket and grabbing a coaster and set it down as he made his way to the bar.

“ ’Ello, ’ello. I’ll have a pint of bitter please”. Huh, Ian thought Wonder where he is from. Meh, just so he keeps quiet. I really need to finish this stupid chapter. Who cares really about the Whaling industry in the 19th century. Wait, maybe he can tell me something. Ian had a soft chuckle at that thought. Right like he wouldn’t just think I’m lazy. He got the drink and then settled down to finish his reading assignment. With out giving Pale hair another thought.
By noon the regulars had all showed up which meant even less time for the book and a brief lull meant time to put in the back office and get everyone topped off. The stranger wanted a roast beef sandwich

The night was calm only the Saturday night moaning between Bernie and Ian about the goals they either scored or had let through, as Ian kept trying to forget the day and remember the drinks.

It all changed around ten twenty. Ian put a coaster at the new arrival’s seat and set out the ashtray when he saw a pack of smokes. 30 minutes, two beers and half a pack of cigs later the bar exploded; with No-Name grabbing the nearest patron and smashing him against the bar. The man to his other side he grabbed and punched shoving him into the others. Beating and kicking his way through the crowd he didn’t care who he hit. Busting knee’s and blackening eyes this loony just didn't stop.

Rising up from the corner Mr. Roast Beef punched him, and ducked. Throwing jabs until he got within reach of a chair. Throwing into the rampaging psycho he kicked him in the face where he fell into a heap, unconscious. Roast-Beef fixed the chairs and tables as best he could, threw some money on the table and walked out.

What the hell. Fuck, another long night. Yet again this whole fate shit is really getting to me. Was I a complete ass in another life? I mean.. really is there anything that hasn’t happened yet. Hold on skipper…you’ve not been tossed out of school, or been drafted. Only a matter of time, the other shoulder whispered.

Ian looked around the bar, and with groan at the damage, and the extra work it meant, he announced last call and proceeded to straighten the place up. Ian brightened up immensly when he noticed Dan at the other end rehanging the posters and collecting all the glasses from the seats that were already empty.
veryone scram. Now! Five minutes ‘till call the cops on the last person in here and make their evening worse then mine.” Dan yelled at the young kids who hadn't taken the earlier hint”

------------------------------------Chapter One: Just another day, you know------------------------------------------
“Last call buddy. Looking the worse for wear; got a car, I'll call a cab for you?” The barman walked to over the phone, polishing a glass as went.

“It's fine. Does it get busy here?” The barman looked the man over, five foot and some change, muscle with a little bit of fat, out work the lazy fuck, doesn't stop me taking his money though he chuckled wryly to himself. Not that he was lazy last night. Why did I let him in here anyway? Though he was useful last night.

Ian took the time to really look at Kevin on his way back. That white hair, looks so alien. Ian stared at the hair. Its not natural.

“Hey mister....”

“Kevin, just Kevin, I'm not old enough to be a mister.”
“Alright then, Kevin, what can I get you today? Its on the house after the help last night”
Ian paused and grinned. Kevin chuckled at the smile and shook his hand.

“I'll have a coke with roast beef on rye.”

“So what brings you to Newtonville Kevin?”

“Came here from England to seek my fame and fortune, just couldn't- didn't really want to sit still. So I um, left. Quite suddenly really, family all probably worried, at least the ones who remember I even existed. ”
Only blondes we attract are them morons down south. His voice, he's not from the south either. Ian frowns thinking about what happened the last time he met those morons from Shepard. Bastards break my window again I'll kill the lot of them. This one seems strange. Not a tatoo or piercing to be seen, most teenage gangs running around mark out their own. Though thinking about it, he remembered he didn't sound like them northern asshats. He paused thinking for a moment as he made the sandwich. Or any other accent he had heard of. Not that this guy had spoken a full paragraph all afternoon. Ian looked up at the door chime. The last of the regulars had finally beaten a path home, back to wives and a hangover. Jamie had looked completely out of it when his brother came to get him. Gonna have to keep a better eye on him next week He turned his attention back to Kevin.

“ Though so far found the fortunes debatable. And now that I'm here; looking for work, know of any place Hiring?”

Kevin finished his sandwich and downed the rest of his beer.

“An another bitter wouldn't be amiss if you've no closed for the evening.”

Ian went to the door, bolted it, flipped the closed sign around and got a Kevin's bitter and a cheap lager for himself, no point wasting money he thought to himself.
They finished the beers and closed down the bar.

Ian turned and asked Kevin “You have a place to crash for the evening?”

“No.” Kevin said. ”
Ian nodded as he called a taxi. “You can come back with me and I'll put you up for the night.”
He spoke into the phone and hanigng up, again to Kevin. “Where did you stay last night?”

Kevin grinned and laughed at Ian.
“Went to a motel, and fast talked my way into better room. It does wonders it does, saying the room's full of mold, gets me money back and a better room. But I just spent all the money in your bar. On that sandwich, best roast beef in months, If not the best ever.

“Thanks Ian. For the ride and such, Should be able to find a job tomorrow, go hunting around. Yer should get some shuteye, early morning tomorrow.” Kevin said as he put their empty glasses in the dishwasher and helped Ian stack the chairs. The cab pulled into the parking lot and honked. Ian flicked the lights, armed the security system grabbing his school books on the way out. Ian light a cigarette as he and Kevin walked to the cab.