Friday 9 February 2007

polecat the mean

he knocked on the door and woke us up in the late afternoon. he pointed at the sign we’d left on our door for the lost surfer. he told us that he figured it meant we knew fluid. we told him what we knew of the legend, and he filled us in on some of the blanks.

fluid never said the word ‘globule’, and never owned anything blue, just in case.

polecat, on the otherhand, was dressed entirely in blue. he said it helped him to come to terms with the imminent end of the millenium scenario.

“it’s going to be like mad max,” he told us. “there’ll to be no water, and gasoline will be the new currency.”

he’s collecting barrels of petrol in his basement, and he says he’ll make a fortune when the millenium bug brings the world to a grinding halt.

he sits with us to watch tv. we munch salty goodness and then he hits us with the crazy part of his plan.

he tells us that, when the millions have finished rolling in, and his petrol has been sold to the new world order, he’s going to donate every single cent he makes on the petrol boom to the orphaned children. he says he knows what it’s like to be an orphan.

“the world would be a better place, if only every orphan had a transformer doll when they’re still young enough to appreciate the value of a toy which can change shape when confronted with violence.”

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