henry: portrait of some serial filler.
Sorry about yet another long gap between posts. Believe it or not, I'm super busy at the moment. Oh, and I'll start posting pictures to go with my blog again soon. I'm currently trying to organise some server space so i can start posting some anti-work pop anthems (my current fav is '9 to 5' by Dolly Parton, by the way).
I found this confession I wrote a couple of months ago. Not really dole related but, meh, it's kinda funny. And totally true.
I Broke The Telly, Not Jacinta.
It was around 1985 and we were living in Hamilton, Victoria. I remember it was hot outside. I was in the lounge room by myself and for some reason, instead of turning the television on to see if a Ma and Pa Kettle movie was on BTV 6, I started to bump the screen with my stomach.
I knew it was a stupid thing to do, but watching the idiot box rock back and forth on its stand was hypnotising. A crash bought me back to reality. My eyes just caught the vase on top of the set falling backwards. Water and petals poured down the back into the ventilation slots.
The dull greenish grey screen blurted white then went pitch black. A small, comical puff of smoke followed a short cracking sound.
A sickly terror filled my stomach until I realised that no one had seen me. Perhaps if I left the room, I reasoned, the destruction would be blamed on an earthquake or the western barred bandicoots that lived over the road.
I stealthily made an exit. Sure enough, as I was busily pretending to play with my Modulok He-Man figure as my alibi, I heard a scream of fury from my mother and she summoned my older brother, my younger sister and myself in front of the TV.
She asked rhetorically what had happened. Before I had the opportunity to give myself away, she looked directly at my sister Jacinta and asked her if she was responsible. It was the way she asked that indicated she already suspected Jacinta was at fault.
I seized the opportunity. Before my sister could plead otherwise I said, “I saw Jacinta playing there before and I think she’s too scared to say she knocked over the flowers on top.”
Jacinta’s jaw dropped in disbelief at the pure treachery of my actions. I don’t think she could believe it even as Mum had grabbed her by the arm and lead her to her room. As Jacinta was dragged off, Mum’s words of anger were syncopated on every syllable with a slap to her daughter’s legs.
I slinked away to my bedroom. I buried my face in a pillow and proceeded to giggle my fucking arse off.
I found this confession I wrote a couple of months ago. Not really dole related but, meh, it's kinda funny. And totally true.
I Broke The Telly, Not Jacinta.
It was around 1985 and we were living in Hamilton, Victoria. I remember it was hot outside. I was in the lounge room by myself and for some reason, instead of turning the television on to see if a Ma and Pa Kettle movie was on BTV 6, I started to bump the screen with my stomach.
I knew it was a stupid thing to do, but watching the idiot box rock back and forth on its stand was hypnotising. A crash bought me back to reality. My eyes just caught the vase on top of the set falling backwards. Water and petals poured down the back into the ventilation slots.
The dull greenish grey screen blurted white then went pitch black. A small, comical puff of smoke followed a short cracking sound.
A sickly terror filled my stomach until I realised that no one had seen me. Perhaps if I left the room, I reasoned, the destruction would be blamed on an earthquake or the western barred bandicoots that lived over the road.
I stealthily made an exit. Sure enough, as I was busily pretending to play with my Modulok He-Man figure as my alibi, I heard a scream of fury from my mother and she summoned my older brother, my younger sister and myself in front of the TV.
She asked rhetorically what had happened. Before I had the opportunity to give myself away, she looked directly at my sister Jacinta and asked her if she was responsible. It was the way she asked that indicated she already suspected Jacinta was at fault.
I seized the opportunity. Before my sister could plead otherwise I said, “I saw Jacinta playing there before and I think she’s too scared to say she knocked over the flowers on top.”
Jacinta’s jaw dropped in disbelief at the pure treachery of my actions. I don’t think she could believe it even as Mum had grabbed her by the arm and lead her to her room. As Jacinta was dragged off, Mum’s words of anger were syncopated on every syllable with a slap to her daughter’s legs.
I slinked away to my bedroom. I buried my face in a pillow and proceeded to giggle my fucking arse off.
posted by Lumpen at 4/17/2005 12:01:00 am
2 Comments:
I think you've told me this before but I stil iggled my motherfucken arse off!! Good to see you're posting again you smug ol' barstard.
giggled that is not iggled
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