There is no god and I am proof.

Saturday, 10 April 2010


"Triangle, circle, square. That's a simple chant right there. Your basic chants, they're £4 a letter; you'll find them down that aisle there. And then they get harder as you progress, so watch yourself. Someone might have used one as well, you know, hidden behind a cardboard stand and put all the stuff together and drawn the pledge on the ground. So, you might find it extending or something, into another dimension. Take this watch and if it starts behaving normally, then you're fucked." The clerk moved away as he finished and turned back to stone.

That, sirs and ladies, was a section from my new novel about a supermarket for wizards. Not really, I just wrote that now. God, you must feel a fool.

The Strain
The time is 1996, love was in the air and so was a feeling of impending change. For it was an election year. Shit wait that was 1997. What happened in 1996? No wait I know.
A psychiatrist's office. A woman lies on his couch. She is talking.

Sandra: It's my father.

Dr. Gawn: It's not your father.

Sandra: It's my mother?

Dr. Gawn: No, Sandra. You are the fuck up here. That is why you are in the office with me. Here, look at these cards. [He pulls out a card and shows her it. It says "You are a failure"]

Sandra: I'm not a failure.

Dr. Gawn: It's a butterfly. [The card flies away like a butterfly.]

Sandra: You're an awful therapist, but a great magician.

Dr. Gawn: I try. [weeps]

Sandra: [weeps]

Dr. Gawn: [weeps]

Sandra: [weeps]

Dr. Gawn: [weeps]

Sandra: [creeps]

Dr. Gawn: [leaps]

Sandra: [sleeps]

Dr. Gawn: All of those things rhymed. Rewind this and see if you can figure it out.

Thinking about it, maybe I should rename that sketch "The Enigma". Because it's enigmatic.

Like myself. Can't figure me out. I'm too complex a person and yep. Well you ruined it. Good guess though.