My lodger

This past week i've had a lodger in my room. In fairness it doesn't take up much space, what with it being only three inches, toe to toe, and a plump tow and a half centimeter body. It doesn't hang about in the places i use much either. Doesn't play my xbox or read my kindle, waste any of my paper or re-tune my guitar. It sort of keeps to itself, which was part of our agreement; Stay out of my way and i'll not throw you out of my window you scary hairy bastard.

Yes my lodger, Shaq, is a spider. A spider that is bigger than any i've ever seen in my room. Usually spiders that lodge in my room either die or forcibly removed the moment i see them but with Shaq, things are different. Shaq is the only spider i've ever met that has his own special place at the top of my room, where some wallpaper has folded slightly due to humidity. And he's the only spider i know that keeps blundering off his favorite spot and plummeting seven feet to the ground, hitting a curtain rod on his way.

Shaq is a special spider. First of all, i think it's a female (though I referred to her as him in the last paragraph) because it's massive and most spiders are bigger when their female. Being female isn't that special, really, but it is when your named after a male basketball star. I believe that Shaq is protecting my room. Shaq laps the top of my room roughly 3 times a day. I don't see her in the night. But since i've let Shaq roam the walls of my room i've not seen a single insect try it's luck in my room. (Although that could be due to the lower temperature.)

Shaq is a small source of horrific looking levity in my room, like having an ugly pet. She's funniest when im reading and the room is silent but for my giggling at Tom Sawyer. At the corner of my eye i can see a big black speck trickle across the wall to my left and then it's gone. A millisecond later i hear three or so strings of my banjo puck quite loudly. And Shaq will scurry quickly under it towards the wall. 

Shaq has been recorded falling from near the roof four times. As i write this she is on the top of the wall above my guitar. She's quite trusting as she's even posed for a photo that i'll show you later.

I hope she doesn't fall on my head. She nearly has while i was sitting at my desk. She was chilling behind a Thrice ticket hanging down from the alcove overlooking my desk. Luckily my shelf filed with toys and CD's caught her fall.

Spider's in Britain aren't all that bad. They bloody look it, though.

Let's play a game.

I've gotta write something tonight. See, i've set a goal to write something twice a week and set the deadlines at 14th and 28th of each month. I really don't feel like writing right now because i am intoxicated by them substances we have to feel nice and loose and relaxed and yum and yay.

but whatever im going to write something. Let's make a game of it. You can read what i write and at the end you can guess what intoxicating substance i've indulged my wits to suffer defeat. (that last sentence i'd have never written sober.)

Okay. 

It was that time of the day and my mouth tasted foul. I used language of the same state describe the experience. "Fuck me, my fucking mouth is like a fucking horrible fuck.".

However, I had to get up and shake my stick at the day. I stretched and scratched and headed for the bathroom for a good clean. "Hello" said the lizard hanging over my shower curtain reel.

"Whaddup Mike?" Greeted I like the way do in them adverts.

"Dude, why did i get up here? Im shit scared of all these curtain rings."

"I'll get you down, come here."

"Cheers bro" Thanked Mike the lizard when suddenly he suffered the most terrifying fright a lizard could grasp. I had just realised that Mike, this lizard that i was holding was a complete stranger. I have never met Mike. Or even established to reason that it was perfectly ok to have a talking lizard in your bathroom who talked to you like you were best buds the night before. In a state of shock i flung mike out the window. The anguish i felt to harm such a beautiful, friendly creature then took over me and i began to cry, "NO!". But Mike was always such an incredible superhero of a lizard. Thriving under pressure, he whipped his tongue towards me, wrapping it gently yet firmly around the back of my neck. He then pulled himself towards me, did a backflip and then a 180 turn and landed perfectly on my left shoulder. He looked into my eyes and waited for me to collect myself at the beautiful awesomness that was Mike."How did you do that?" I hungrily asked.

"I am the the apprentice of the master spy at LSS" he offered.

"Who's that? What's that?" I shot.

"The LSS is like the FBI for lizards. They teach us to answer questions in reverse order. And the master? The master is none other than Gex. Enter the gecko" Mike explained. And with that I felt a suave sensation lightly brush against my left leg. The Gex had walked into the bathroom via my leg space and tail bounced onto shower curtain reel. He then said a movie-parody style quite and shot me between the eyes.

Black.

Infrared laser detected. Switch on.

"What? Am i inside a television? These new flat screens are a tight fit, my ribs are cracking!" I asked through a mangled mouth.

"You soon will be sir because you've been recruited to star in our new TV show "Square eyes". A reality TV show about people who watch too much TV and then get put inside a tv to see what it's like to live like electricity." a host kindly explained.

"But i hardly ever watch TEEVEE I read bookx and take long walks and sleep a lot." i argued.

"AHHH but that's where we've got you. We're actually a reality show about people who drastically lie about how much. Welcome to MTV's "We know you love us you whores." 

"NOOOOO!"

My war cry was intimidating. The television case crumbled in fear. The host was now the least. I then struck my fury towards the Whole of TV. I masculinly scouted the worlds television broadcasting pylon and destroyed it with my fists. I destroyed it further with my legs and then humiliated it with my mouth. "Fuck you television. You're stupid.". That taught that.

But then all the fans of television wanted to kill me. And they did. 

And then i woke up and YOU were all a dream.

OOOOOOOHHHHH

The end.

So what have i taken?

The Black man's pinch

IT had begun to end in the middle, did the story behind the black man's pinch. That is, the tragic story of the end of a bright relationship between a lovely couple in the middle of their lives; is what created it.

Bryn Careg was the epitome of happiness with his wife Heulwen. And of course he was. Bryn had done everything his Dad had told him, down to his last breath on the bed that he died in; which was to clean the bed that he died in, after he died.

Bryn had ticked most of the boxes on his fathers "Have a happy life" list. Get a job, find a nice girl, live together, have children, hang on for as long as you can. Three out of five he had, for he got a job down the mines, using his dads connections. He finally asked out his sweetheart; Heulwen after five pints of courage and they'd moved into his family house after his dad died. This was payment for cleaning a shitty bed.

Yes, life was simple and sensible. Get up, work, come home and have a cwtch, bath, eat and sleep. Simple and sensible indeed. For Bryn.

Now Heulwen. That's another story. One that begins not long after she moved in with Bryn, her betrothed.

Her excitement and gusto that came with living with Bryn was unequivocally high. Very high it was. Especially when she found out that she was expecting. You know, a baby! She told Bryn as soon as she was sure and they both danced in their happiness. 

But that night, when they were peacefully asleep, Heulwen felt a crippling pain in her wrist and her hand went numb it did. "Bryn wharrayew doin?" she was shouting but she soon realised that Bryn wasn't in his right mind. She couldn't shake him away, his grip was too tight. She pinched his earlobe with her free hand which woke him up. "Wharrayew doin mun!" He politely asked, but she didn't answer so Bryn turned over and slept.

This happened every night for three weeks. She tried to talk to him but he wouldn't really take notice. Hormones from the pregnancy she had. Nothing worth talking about. Heulwen didn't know what to do so she did the honest thing and left him.

Oh it was sad. She told him to his face because she knew that Bryn couldn't read very well. And he didn't grab her like he would in his sleep, no. He just cried. She didn't want to see it so she decided to leave for good.

Bryn, then turned into something not short of a bloody lunatic. He pinched his own earlobe so hard that it changed colour. Then he went at other parts of his body making him look like he had a terrible illness. Which he did. He left his pickle alone though. No man is that mad. I hope.

His fathers pride came through, though and he didn't want the world to see him all down in the dumps so he went to work. Retreating in the darkness where no one could see him without a candle. He didn't do much work though. He realised that it was no good pinching himself. So he decided to pinch all the other dick heads he worked with. Will, who fancied Heulwen something awful, Jac; Heulwens brother and Iesu who was a preachy git.

It was dark and no one knew who was up to this irritating pain-giving tomfoolery, but sure enough Bryn had a pinch mark too so he got away with it. 

He then took his frustrations out on anybody. Stalking loners in the evening, leaving them with black thumbs and marks on their skin. All they saw was a man with a black face. The face of an unwashed miner.

Bryn died never knowing his son and never really knowing anyone else.He stuck to himself and his habbit of pinching things and died alone. His soul was chaos and his spirit still lurks today giving the people of the world the pinch of the black faced man. His ghost will manipulate your hand to stay in a doorframe while it's closing. It will make you freeze while a heavy thing falls on your hand. Or sometimes you will just wake up with a mark on your body. Either way it's him!

He got me not too long ago. I was bowling and as i picked up a ball he rolled another towards my hand and pinched my fuck you finger. Well fuck you Bryn Carreg!

And there you have the sad story of the black man's pinch. Don't go having nightmares now.