As we all know it was very very windy this week so all of us at whoopass weekly
decided to go out into the elements and find some of you readers who may have a
bit of a gripe with old mother nature over her stormy disposition of late. In
the process of our hunt for for this weeks characters we came across old Jack
Hammer of no 133 Runcorn Tce. Lake pahoe, Dublin and this is what Old Jack had to say.
'Fuck off' he said at first when we arrived at his door (we'd been tipped off
because of the lack of roofage on his lakeside squat). When we again tried to
gain access to the house he again told us to get the fuck off his property or
he'd smash that cameramans stupid face in.
This could have been a problem if it wasn't for the fact that he was a
lot smaller than most of us and if there was any smashing to be done it would
be his stupid face followed by his stupid lookin dogs face that would be on the receiving end.
Shortly after this and a friend shove (friendly shove in the groin with my
knee) he decided that it would be in the best interests of all those involved
to maybe let us in after all. Tossing his half dead yorkshire terrier aside we
entered the house, to here the story of 'Red Tuesday, the day Old Jack Hammer lost his roof'.
Red Tuesday, the day Old Jack Hammer lost his roof
'It was an unmerciful night tuesday night' Jack told us as he made us all
coffee and Ham sandwiches out of the goodness of his heart (for the continuing
health of his heart). 'The rain was pelting down on the old tin roof' (the cat
had gone away for the summer) when suddenly I heard an unmerciful racket in the from garden'.
Old Jack had sprung from his bed to see what was the matter, He ran to the
window and couldn't see a thing so he decided to get his shot gun and shoot
repeatedly out of his window and across the road (the Lake had obviously been
moved for the purposes of our story), smashing all his cross-the-road neighbours windows.
When his neighbour came to his own bedroom window he had
related to Jack that if he fired that old gun of his one more time, he'd find
it shoved so far up his (Insert 'Hole' here) that he be able shoot any fish
that swam by as he struggled to untie himself from his stupid fucking dog who
would be in turn tied to a very large boulder at the bottom of that freakin
lake (the lake has been reinserted here for the porposes of our story).
On hearing this Jack promptly shot his neighbour in the knackers and spread his
other neighbours face all over his front porch when he came out to
see what all the fuss was about. Jack went on to tell us how he'd managed to
knock off everyone living nearby, just incase they'd not learnt how to mind
their own fucking business either.
Turning from his fridge holding his rifle in his left hand and ham sandwiche in
his right. Jack began to laugh loudly and started to shoot up the place like
the mad old bastard that he was. Unfrotunately for our story and for Poor Old
Jack, he ran out of bullets and i was forced to squeeze the life out of him in
an effort to kill him. It worked.
Leaving Jacks house I began to wonder wether Jack had even known how he lost
his roof. It became aparent to me (directly after I made it up) that old Jack
had been possesed by a demon and had been visited by interstellar demon
catchers whom had circumsized him and exorcised his dog. Then realiseing they'd
done it all arseways. they returned and exorcised him good and proper and
killed off all his neighbours, sheerly for the look of the thing.
So it seemed we had tied it all up nicely eccept for a few jounalists recent
widows that needed visiting.
Would I ever go on a story without getting the entire crew horibly mutilated or
killed, or both, or raped a bit aswell?
I don't know, who cares!
Would anyone ever find out who'd really killed the entire population of Runcorn Tce?
again, Who cares!
Letting out a long sigh I finished tying a yorshire terrier to my scrotum and
stepped into my interstellar shag wagon, and headed for three muff moons of
neptune baby! to see if i could catch some space herpies.
P Wanchope, signing off.
