Severe Jam Damage

Got this from Nat King Coleslaw…

Hilarious.

George Takei responds to Tim Hardaway

As children we were told not to go near the old storm-struck tree down the end of the high field.
‘There’s bad things and worse’n that’ Uncle Jake told us. ‘You don’t wants to be goin’ to the high field lessin’ you got a reason. And that reason, well it’d better be nuthin’ less than your own life.’
After these warnings he would glare at us with one rheumy eye, the other having been lost years ago in some unspecified incident. Then he’d slowly lift his eye patch and glare down with his empty socket at us. That always made us shiver, no matter how close to the fire we sat.
‘You young uns gotsta stay well away from that place. Well away!’
Then he would lean back in his seat and speak no more. We knew better than to ask him why, cousin Jimmie had taught us all that lesson. He still weren’t able to sit proper on his seat after all this time. We’d never seen Uncle Jake go into such a rage after it. Later when Jimmie had quit his slobberin’ and cryin’ he’d told us there weren’t nothin’ up in the high field ceptin’ some old gnarled up lookin’ tree stumps.
‘The old man is crazy as a coot’ said Jimmie.
‘You aints’ bin up there to know!’ we taunted.
‘He’s a crazy ol’ man’ replied Jimmy but alls the same there was somethin’ in his face that made us wonder if Uncle Jake was all that crazy after all.
Late at nights we’d lie in bed, all jumbled up together, legs ‘n’ arms, stickin’ elbows into ribs and we’d whisper amongst ourselves - taunting and daring each other. None of us ever took it serious. We knew well what would happen if’n we tried goin’ anywhere near the high field. Alls we had to do was look at Jimmie wincing in his chair and with that look of fear on his face.

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I didn’t want to do the typical ‘Merlin and Nimue’ with this, so this could be the beginning of something, unfortunately didn’t have time to finish it so this is all you’re getting this week. This weeks flicktion effort inspired by Sculpture Copyright Flickr user RightIndex. Check out the rest of the flicktioneers: The Gurrier, Chris, Tadmack, TeaandCakes, Aquafortis, Valsha and Neil.

Have noticed that bloglines is not picking up new entries from this blog. Wonder is the feed from blogsome down?

My sis was down in Co. Wicklow yesterday visiting friends in the town of Arklow. While there her tires were slashed, although they weren’t cut right through so she didn’t notice until the evening when she was on the N11 somewhere between the Beehive pub and the Rathnew exit. Her phone was flat, which meant when the tire burst she had no way of contacting anyone. (Stupid I know, we’ve told her she needs to get herself a charger for the car.)
She limped along the hard shoulder to the Rathnew exit and made it up to the petrol station to look for help. In the station she asked the man behind the counter if there was a pay phone.
He grunted at her. She took it for a ‘No.’
Then she asked if there was a phone on the premises that she could use, she was alone and broken down and needed help? He told her to go away (fluttered a magazine at her like he was swatting a fly) and motioned the woman in the queue to step forward and then completely ignored my sis. N said there were a few people in the shop and no one offered any help whatsoever.
Back out into the rain and the dark, she trudged into EVERY SINGLE business on that stretch of road in Rathnew including the Indian and the pub. No one offered any help. Eventually by this time she was soaking wet from the rain and very upset. She crossed the road into the shop beside the tanning salon and asked if there was a pay phone. The woman behind the counter said no, there were a couple back down the road.
N said ‘No, they are out of order.’
‘Here’ said the woman ‘Use mine’ and gave N her mobile to make the calls she needed.

Anyway eventually N sorted it out and arranged help. She went back to the car and sat for a while drying out and calming down somewhat. And then as so often happens she started to get angry so she went back to where she was treated worst - the petrol station - and asked to see the manager.
‘No manager here’ said another guy behind the counter. However N was angry now and she was going to have her say… it went along the lines of
‘A woman on her own… looking for help… you told me to go away…’ etc.

She’s ringing the station this morning to complain about the staff. But she couldn’t BELIEVE the amount of people who wouldn’t help her at all. She walked around Rathnew for over half an hour in the rain looking for help and nobody wanted to know. Thing that pisses her off is that she knows what to do to change a car tire, but she wouldn’t be physically able to do it herself. She is blessed that she didn’t have the kids with her.

Nobody knew where The Factory came from. It was just there, steadily taking things in through a gate that opened once a week. Trucks lines up around the block waiting their turn to unload then drove away empty, to return the next week full again.

No one ever saw what the trucks unloaded. The drivers didn’t stop, dour looking men, high in their cabs they drove to the factory and drove away. For months nothing ever came out of The Factory. No sounds, no smells, nothing. Stories spread that late at night when everyone was asleep a small gate opened in the side of the wall and things came out. Nobody knew for certain though.

One day the deliveries stopped. There was no line of trucks, no open gate. People began to forget about the mystery of The Factory. Life went on.

It was about a year later that the Dolls started to appear. Tall, and slim their arms and legs wobbled as they walked. Bodies sexless, covered in latex with faces that had no features except for a pair of silver-irised eyes that shone like jewels from their sockets. The first Doll that appeared was found sitting on a park bench by some children. Their parents heard the screams but by the time they ran outside it was too late. The children had pulled the Doll apart, ripping arms from torso. There was a short report on the news about it. The children were in hospital, suffering shock. The remains of the Doll were taken away by the authorities, but nothing could be ascertained. There were no manufacturing marks, no clue as to where the Doll had come from or what its purpose might be.

A week later two more Dolls were found wandering the streets. A crowd gathered, staring. As one, the crowd tore the Dolls to pieces. When asked about it later no one could give a clear answer. Observers - those who had not seen the Dolls before the attack - claimed that the crowd had gone berserk. Others claimed that the Dolls were the instigators. No one could prove anything.

Reports began to flood in. Other cities, other unexplained attacks. And after each, the people left drained, in shock.

No one ever thought to link The Factory with the appearance of the Dolls.

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Damn, I have no idea where I was going with this. Ahh well, this weeks flicktion effort inspired by as far as the eye(s) can see By Flickr user phantom kitty. Check out the rest of the flicktioneers: The Gurrier, Chris, Tadmack, TeaandCakes, Aquafortis, Valsha and Neil.

Just got nothing to say at the moment. I was at two pub quizzes this week. The first was a music quiz which was a bit of fun (We didn’t win.) The second was a work-do thing in the Irish Bankers Club on Stephen street. (Didn’t win that either.) Not a very salubrious place at all to be honest. It was more like a boardroom than a bar - strange atmosphere in the place and the loos were a five minute walk away through corridors and past offices. Apparently the other place of Stephen’s green is much nicer as its situated in one of the old Georgian houses.

The music quiz on the first night was a bit of craic - possibly down to the amount of pints I sank - but I think too the company was better (although there are photos on my camera that should NEVER see the light of day.)

anyway, hopefully normal posting will resume shortly. TTFN.