Posts
10 years ago
Kids can really annoy me sometimes. They
really can. Okay, so mythical creatures like Santa Claus and the Easter bunny
give people a good reason to throw away money or make egg farmers rich.
However, there is one creature I highly despise and that is none other than the
tooth fairy. I mean seriously – she disgusts me. She breaks into people’s
homes, raids children’s rooms, and steals their teeth of all things. Uck!
Well no more. I’m going to destroy her once and for all.
It all started on a nice wet and windy
Tuesday afternoon. I jotted down some notes from the internet, relating to the
tooth fairy. I had seen her plenty of times, sneaking into homes. Oh and get
this, she’s a blonde too. No wonder she touches people’s teeth!
After I gathered all of the collected information
– about fifty post it notes in all – I sat them in a stack on the table before
me.
“Just you wait,” I muttered. “I will catch
you.” My younger sister had just lost a tooth; so as a result, I saw this
as a rather perfect opportunity to ensnare the villainous wench.
“The tooth fairy’s coming tonight! She
really is!” my eight-year-old sister, Caroline, chanted as she burst through
the door, free of the woes of school for the day.
I smirked. “Yeah, yeah, squirt – just make
sure you don’t over excite yourself.”
“I won’t,” she said and then scurried off.
That night, after my parents and Caroline were
busily sleeping, I set up a clever net trap. Oh, you may have guessed this
wasn’t an ordinary net. It was equipped with a radiation detector, because the
tooth fairy’s wings emit small waves of nuclear energyapparently. That aside, the
device also recognized my sister as being an ally. Who would have known the
internet sold such convenient devices?
At midnight, the window suddenly opened and
a blonde woman with glowing wings crawled in through it. I grinned. Since when
did a magical being have to use the window? Was she drunk – no… she was a blonde. And right
on cue, my net caught its prey.
“Ouch!”
“Having fun in there?” I snickered. The
tooth fairy, on close inspection, quite frankly, looked no older than me.
“Let me out of here… please?” she pleaded.
“No way,” I said. “Your horrid days are
finally at an end. You’re my prisoner now.”
I dragged the net, with her in it, all the
way to my room. Man it was a lot of work – what did she eat anyway?
“So what’s your name?” the tooth fairy
asked. She was chained to a leg of my bed by then. Why was she asking such a
question during her most dangerous hour? Was she fearless or something?
“Shut up,” I growled, “Stupid tooth
hoarder.” She blinked at me twice with those gormless looking bright blue eyes and her
wings fluttered.
“I’m hungry,” she whined.
“Will you shut up?” I grabbed a bottle of
Extreme Hand Sanitizer and bathed her hands. She’d probably touched millions of
rotten teeth so I didn’t want to take any chances in case of any possible
airborne diseases. “It’s one in the morning. I suggest you keep your mouth
closed and avoid waking everyone up, for your own sake.”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “You still
haven’t told me your name.”
I ignored the tooth fairy and pulled a book
from my dresser called, Ways to Destroy the Tooth Fairy. She didn’t
even look nervous.
“Am I allowed to sleep?”
“What?”
“Well, I see you’re holding a book. Are you
like going to give me homework and tests and stuff?”
I stared at her blankly. “Why are you still
talking?”
She raised her hand as if we were in
school. “Yes? Wait – no, idiot, just stay quiet and remain still. Okay?”
She smiled. I frowned and then tuned back
into my book. Every minute or so, I would look up and there she was, staring back at
me. It was creepy. Really, really, creepy. A blonde half-brained tooth fairy, who
steals children’s teeth for a living, was staring at me, and it was not a
pleasant feeling. This was the equivalent of being face to face with a
criminal. After fifteen minutes, I couldn’t take the staring anymore.
“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?” I yelled.
Suddenly, I heard the switch of my sister’s room click on. Oh crap. I glared at
the tooth fairy. “Stay quiet if you know what's good for you.”
Her face brightened up. She wanted to
scream, “yay.” I could tell that just by glaring at her. As expected, my sister
knocked on my door.
“Big bro, are you okay in there? I heard
screaming.”
“No, I’m fine,” I lied back, “just a
nightmare.”
“Can I come in? I want to tell you
something.” Not good. I felt myself running around in circles. Finally, my eyes
caught contact with the wardrobe.
“Quick, get in there,” I whispered.
“Okay, but could you uhm… release the
chains?”
My eyes fell to the chains on her legs. I
quickly unlocked them and shoved the tooth fairy into the wardrobe.
“Just stay quiet,” I reminded her.
“How long do I have to...” I closed the door
before she finished the sentence. And after hiding all my tooth fairy
destruction books, I opened the door for Caroline.
“What took you so long, Andrew?”
“It’s one in the morning, squirt. Give me
one good reason why I should move at any speed faster than a turtle.”
Caroline laughed.
“So what’s bothering you, pipsqueak?” I asked
her.
She frowned. “Well… the tooth fairy hasn’t
shown up yet.” I nearly choked. “Do you think something has happened to
her?”
There was a small sneeze. I froze.
“What was that?” A surprised look overtook Caroline’s
face.
“Nothing,” I quickly said, while trying not
to curse the tooth fairy under my breath. “Nothing at all. Look, the tooth
fairy will come, but not when you’re awake – she takes a lot longer when people
are awake.”
Caroline gasped, notifying me instantly that the fish
had taken the bait. “Hurry.” I guided my sister back to her room. “She’s waiting for
you to sleep.”
When I finally put her to sleep, I slugged
back into my room, ready to focus on the matter at hand: finally destroying the
tooth fairy so I can get into my own bed for some well deserved sleep of my own. (No, I’m not totally insane; I’m just
a boy of reality…. I think.)
The tooth fairy was on my bed, fast asleep.
I balled my hands into fists in order to prevent myself from exploding with more
anger than I had done already. My sheets will have to be burnt now, but I’ll focus
on that later. I shook her as hard as I could, but she didn’t wake up. Furious,
I darted into the bathroom, filled a glass with water, ran back into my room
and splashed it on her face. She still didn’t wake up. Was she dead? Urgh, in
my bed? – I could never sleep there ever again. However, if that was the case, at
least I wouldn’t hear her annoying snoring any more.
“Wake up!” I snarled. And surprisingly, she did.
“So, your name is Andrew?” she said softly.
Just then, a puzzling thought smashed into my head.
“Why didn’t… you escape? Are you really that
stupid or something – that window was your one last chance of freedom.”
She blushed. “You see… anyone that goes
through this much trouble to spend time with me must really like me.”
I ran to the bathroom and vomited. How dare
the tooth fairy come up with such an awful conclusion!
“Are you okay?” she said when I drifted back
into the room.
“Let’s just get this straight. You’re a
prisoner not a guest, not a friend, not a lover – just a prisoner.” I grinned.
“A prisoner waiting on death row.” There was still no shriek or look of terror;
she just blushed instead.
“Sit down and await your death,” I said
while retrieving the book of tooth fairy destruction. After a few minutes of
reading, I closed it and looked up at her.
“I’m so hungry,” groaned the tooth fairy.
“Oh don’t worry about that,” I laughed,
“you’ll be put out of your misery soon enough.” I opened my dresser and dug
toward the depths until I finally had a good grasp on a diamond shaped object:
a green crystal, the size of an orange, known as an emerite. According to the
book, one touch from this gemstone should turn the tooth fairy into pixie dust.
Her eyes instantly widened upon sight of it. Bingo – she had to be scared now (which means I didn’t totally waste my money buying this off the internet) – so
I grinned.
“Oooh, pretty,” she awed, rearranging my
previous thoughts. “Is it a gift? I love presents!”
I snickered. “Oh, it’s a gift alright, but
before I eliminate you with it, do you have any last words?”
“What does eliminate mean? Does that mean like a kiss? Are you proposing to me with it?”
I face palmed. “No you idiot, this stone
will destroy you.”
“Destroy? Why are you using such fancy
words?” She smirked. “Are you like a teacher or something?”
Okay, at this point, I was WAY beyond
frustrated. I was on the verge of just eliminating myself never mind her. “Will
you please, please, PLEASE… shut up,” I managed to prevent myself from yelling.
“Oh I’m sorry – I just never had someone
propose to me so suddenly before. My answer is...”
“I am not pr...”
“Yes.”
A grenade. I needed a grenade: One with an
explosion that would blow my whole body to pieces so no one could ever find them. “This
is not a proposal,” I growled. “Here – hurry and take the jewel. You must die
immediately!”
Nothing happened when she held the jewel. Oh
please God, why me? Seriously, why was it so hard to destroy a simple mythical
creature? I opened the book once again.
“I can’t just give up,” I whispered. “I came
this far.”
For hours, I followed a series of steps from
within the book. Each of them failed. Salt, salted milk, silver bullet, silver
bullet drink (don’t ask), incantations, water, pudding (once again, don’t ask),
sand – absolutely nothing worked. Then I realized something. This emerite – it
had to be counterfeit somehow. Either that or the tooth fairy was just
invincible.
It was 3 AM now. I threw the book at the
wall and stared at my enemy. She stroked the emerite, admiring its physical
appearance. I hated the stupid thing – it was the most useless object ever and no way was the Ebay seller going to get good feedback. “I
give up,” I said. “This is so impossible. You’re free to go.” She didn’t move.
I opened the window and sighed. “Hurry – get out of here.” She still didn’t
move. “Are you deaf or what? – finish making your rounds for tonight and go
home. I’m done with this mythical destruction crap.”
“I won’t leave.”
The horror of it all. Okay, I failed to
destroy her, but now, she won’t leave either. This had to be a nightmare. My
archenemy – yes I declared her that – was refusing to go away? Has this world gone
crazy and come to an end without letting me in on it?
“What did you just say? I’m sorry; I didn’t
hear you properly?”
“I won’t leave,” the tooth fairy repeated,
“We’re engaged. So there’s no way I’m leaving you ever, ever, ever.” Her blue eyes were
slightly brighter than before. The moron.
The whole situation was now a total catastrophe.
My original well thought out and researched plan had backfired on me terribly. What if I now turned
out to be like one of those whackos who make multiple appearances on daytime television
talk shows? I just gasped.
“I’m going to tell you one more time,” I
said with a raised voice, while at the same time straining not to lose control.
“You are free to go back to your tooth collecting life and putting cheap smiles on little
kid’s faces with nothing more than small change. And touching rotten teeth too? – arrgh.
Just get out of here!”
She folded her arms, frowned, and said, “No.
I want to be here with you.”
Did I mention I hated the tooth fairy? Did I
also mention that my sheets had to be burned?
I gave her my best “you’ve got to be kidding
me” look and then said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I can make you breakfast tomorrow – and …
I’m still hungry.”
“Urgh,” I whispered, thinking about the
millions of teeth she’d touched as the tooth fairy. Then I asserted my voice.
“Listen, if you don’t buzz off, I’m calling the cops. Now scram!”
“Your eyes are very pretty,” she said,
completely ignoring my last threat. This was it – I had finally reached my
limit. In fact, I didn’t know whether or not to be angry anymore. In the case that
none of you reading my words get it, the tooth fairy is a serious threat to all humanity.
Her stupidity is akin only to that of a turtle and the back of my slippers.
Her hands – Yuck – never touch them! And worst of all, DO NOT attempt to
destroy the tooth fairy because you will surely fail. I mean, she doesn’t even have
the intelligence to figure out the meaning of the word “destroy.” I just didn’t know
what to think anymore.
“So, you’re just going to let every child in
the world down then are you?” In case you’re lost here, it was 4 AM now, and I had
diverted to using my final and ultimate method of getting rid of her: The old ‘Guilt
Routine’. She narrowed her eyes and looked down. I had her exactly where I
wanted. Eating at her mind became a top priority now. “You know, I have a younger
sister – she’s about eight – and she looks up to you. You heard her voice
earlier. Are you going to let someone as innocent as that down? How about the
other children too? Your job was to put a smile – God knows how – on their
faces. Are you really going to be so selfish and stay here?” Tears streamed
from her eyes. I’d nailed it! Now just a little more – before I start an
accidental celebration dance. “You know, I dislike dishonest, selfish
people who’d rather hang around a stranger’s home rather than fulfilling their
duties. I really, really, hate that.”
She gasped.
“Fine,” she finally said. I bit my lip,
hoping that I really had won. She edged closer to me. “I’ll help everyone the
way I do, but only because you insisted. But then I will come back after I
finish.” Her wings fluttered as she walked to the open window. Within seconds,
she jumped out and there was no telling where she had gone.
I didn’t waste any more time sitting around.
If I wanted true victory, then I had to keep her out of my life for good. So I
did like any guy would do: I set anti-tooth fairy traps all over the place.
After that, I sprayed the entire yard with a highly toxic tooth fairy
repellent. (I love the products you can get from that majestic world known as
the internet.)
By the time I was finished, it was 5 AM. I
rushed back into my house, tiptoed into Caroline’s room and checked under her
pillows. A shiny coin rested in the spot where her tooth had once resided. I
tiptoed out of her room and back into mine. First thing: sheet washing. Her
hands had been all over my sheets and despite the fact that I sanitized them
with the most powerful stuff known to man, the old saying “better safe than
sorry” still applied. So, after thirty minutes each in both the washer and the
dryer, I was finally able to go to my bed.
Later that morning, the streaky light of the late morning’s
sunrays snuck through my window and woke me. What I had hoped to be an amazing
start for a new morning turned out to be the exact opposite. The tooth fairy
was asleep, in my bed, with her hand resting on my face. It was like the apocalypse. I rushed into the
bathroom, grabbed the nearest bar of soap, and probably washed my face about
twenty thousand times before reappearing. How did she get back in here? There
were hundreds of traps and repellents all over the place. I simply couldn’t
win. Damn you Ebay!
Her eyes slowly opened. “Hi honey – you
should lie down again and get more rest.”
Okay, so maybe this is a terrible ending, but
that’s how I first encountered the tooth fairy. And do you know, the reason why I
disliked her so much – other than the reasons I’ve already stated? – it is
because… and don’t laugh here... I once lost a tooth when I was younger and in
place of the mandatory shiny two bit coin, there was nothing left but a poxy “I owe
you.” What the hell?
So ever since then, I had tripled
my knowledge about this pathetic creature, and plotted day and night to have her destroyed. Truth
be known, I couldn’t care less about the coin, but no one dares humiliate me
like that and gets away with it.
Unfortunately though, after twenty odd years, it looks like I’m
stuck with her now. I guess you could call this my punishment… So because of
this, I’m going to write another story sometime and tell you guys how I finally
did get rid of the tooth fairy (if I ever do so) or maybe…
Maybe I’ll just end up telling you how truly grotesque life has been LIVING with such a dunce. Maybe one of you could help me get rid of her… Please somebody step forward. I may be “over-the-top,” with my reasoning here, but at least I’m being honest about it.
Maybe I’ll just end up telling you how truly grotesque life has been LIVING with such a dunce. Maybe one of you could help me get rid of her… Please somebody step forward. I may be “over-the-top,” with my reasoning here, but at least I’m being honest about it.
I’ve been out of town again and arrive home somewhat
late. She said she’d stay up for me and she tried but she’s fallen asleep on
the couch, her head resting on a brocaded pillow. I notice her there when I
walk in through the door.
She’s gorgeous, she’s always been gorgeous. Ever
since day one. And the fact that she’s shorter than me, makes me feel more like
a man somehow and it certainly helps as I sidle up behind her and engulf her
inviting body in my arms from time to time.
I still have stuff to do so I tip-toe my way
around her and make coffee.
Halfway through the cup I turn to regard
her. Her form is magnificent, like a white marble sculpture lying in repose on
her sensuously red-cushioned couch. Looking at her form fuels my heat and my
heart. I admit it I adore her.
Her eyes can’t be seen, but are relaxing and
green, they’re the kind of eyes that can never be denied, and can kill your least
resistance with a seductively gentle persuasion.
I still have my work to do but can’t stand seeing
her there anymore. I step over to her, bend down and scoop her up in my arms.
Half-conscious, she wraps her arms around my neck and sighs. I like it when she
sighs; it reminds me of when we make love. Making love is something she’s quite
passionate about and extremely good at. I carry her into the bedroom and place
her on our mattress with loving care.
Removing her clothes is no hassle to me either. I
always enjoy removing her clothes. Her skin is baby soft and is the colour of fine
porcelain around her breasts and thighs where it hasn’t been kissed by the sun.
There’s a slight imprint of a flower on her cheek from the brocaded pillow. I
examine it closely because I’ll never see it again. It slowly fades as I watch
her. Lucky for me her beauty won’t ever fade and neither will my love for her.
She slides between the sheets of fine Egyptian
cotton and I cover her up and make her comfortable with a meaningful kiss to
the forehead. "Good night my love, I’m so in love with you, I’ll be back with
you soon," I whisper in her ear.
Leaving her behind to do what I had to do,
it wasn’t too long before I was heading my way back to her and as I entered the
bedroom, I sat for a while and watched through the open French doors as the moon began its steady
ascent over the open lawns just outside. And I opened up my wearied eyes to
appreciate the scene more fully. I can feel and hear the restless breeze as it
rustles the curtains and wafts in to the room to cool my furrowed brow, and I
can smell the fresh scent of the great outdoors as it rises from the grass.
I continue to watch as the moon peeks over
the horizon like a forlorn lover and gaze in rapture as it climbs higher into
the sky, turning the grassy carpet into an amphitheatre of dazzling light.
Its rays playfully leapfrogging across the
garden’s surface, until one solitary beam of light; with almost a timid
curiosity, creeps its way up the side of the outside wall and intrudes into our
bedroom; where it bathes her sleeping form in an ethereal light. Her back is to
me so I can’t see her beautiful face, but I watch in complete fascination as the beam of
light slowly begins to caress her flesh.
It begins at her feet, then slowly works its
way up to highlight her perfectly shaped calves, her thighs, the swell of her
womanly hips and finally, the graceful arch of her tattooed back. I feel my
heart race faster as the moonbeam spreads across her whole body and feel an
absurd jealousy at its silky exploration.
“Come and see what I can see”, it seems to
taunt and for one brief instant I have to fight back a maddening urge to move over
towards her. I have unconsciously risen partly from my chair before I catch
myself and with an odd reluctance, settle once more back into place to watch,
and to wait.
There is something quite sensual and
ultimately magical about the way the beam takes it’s time, melting into her
skin and becoming at one with it. I am completely mesmerised as it gently
seduces her whole body with its soft and mellow, light featureless fingers and
I feel a jolt run through me and a cold chill races down the back of my neck as it explores her and all
of her womanly mysteries.
It continues its gentle violations and I
hear her moan softly in her sleep, the sound is both sultry and haunting and I
feel my breath catching within my chest.
This delicate probing which encompasses both
the senses and the eye, goes on until the moon has completely risen, and then, like
a satisfied lover, the beam slowly makes its way back out of the door and slides
down the wall to blend in once more with its brothers and sisters below.
I sit for a moment longer, then stand up and
stretch. As I make my way over to our bed, I re-trace the intricate patterns
that the moonbeam had left upon her delicate flesh and feel that tingling jolt hit me once again.
I finally get to lie down beside my darling and
hear her let out a contented sigh. “I’m so in love with you Jodie”, I whisper once
again as I snuggle closer and wrap my arms around her. And finally, I close my
eyes and become an integral part of her as sleep takes us over and bonds us
together as one throughout the rest of the night.
There’s a room and it is full of
reflections. It’s shaped like a circle, each wall hidden behind mirrors. There
are many of them, all different shapes and sizes. They’re just like any other
ordinary mirrors, except they aren’t.
In the centre of the room stands a woman.
She’s smiling, her face bright with happiness, not even the slightest of hints
of depression shown. But as she looks around though, she becomes terribly confused.
Each mirror is reflecting her so called friends,
there’s nothing so unusual there? But as she looks closer, she realizes that
every mirror has its own specific image. It is still the woman in the centre,
but shown in different lights of friendship.
One mirror shows her frowning, tears
slipping down her face. The clothes she wears are different too, longer and
darker. Another shows her angry, eyes clouded with burning passion, hair cut
short and blunt. This continues with all the others, every ugly emotion shown
through the friendships in question.
The woman starts to get overwhelmed by it
all. Beads of sweat line her forehead as she struggles to figure out what is
happening here. Her hands shake and her eyes grow frantic, jumping from each
and every one of her twin appearances.
She snaps and moves forward. Glass scatters
the floor as she pulls her bloody hand back. But as soon as that mirror
disappears, another one takes its place. A different image again. She smashes
that one too yet still another comes back.
She’s frustrated now. She can’t think straight.
She only wants them all to be gone. More and more mirrors shatter, more and
more come back. The floor is now covered in glass. Her fists are red and bloody,
but she doesn’t care; she doesn’t stop.
Finally, tired and destroyed, the woman
collapses; gives up. Her eyes close and she covers her ears. It almost seems as
if the images are mocking her.
“Yay, she cracked!”
“No longer can she hide from us now!”
“It’s our time to shine!”
“She can’t pretend we don’t exist any
longer…”
It’s almost as if they’ll never stop
taunting her. And she can’t take any more. Raising a shard to her wrist, she
trails it along. Now she’s bleeding from her arm as well.
The woman is about to do it again when she’s
successfully restrained. Her eyes are closed and she doesn’t know who it is.
When a soft whisper sounds in her ear, she knows instantly. And all at once,
almost like magic, she’s calmed.
“It’s going to be okay. Don’t let them get
to you. Only you can control how they can affect you.”
The woman’s eyes open. She understands now.
Turning in a circle she stares at each image and gives in to each and every
one. She won’t hide from them any longer, but will instead conquer them. With
these arms wrapped around her, she can do anything. One by one, they disappear,
until only one image is left, directly in front of her.
The last mirror shows the woman happily
sitting there. The reflection is exactly how it should be, with his arms around
her, chasing away all her worries. She smiles this time, for real.
It has come to my attention that quite a few of you often worry about
the fact I don’t appear to be getting much sleep as I wander in and out of the
mighty internet at all times of the day and night often including the
wee-small-hour realms of stupid o’clock. Why is it that I do this? I ask
myself, knowing full well why it is. And after being prompted by a close
personal as to how funny I must look slumped at my desk I offer you this in
response.
You see as is often the case when you see someone cosily tucked away in
their bed fast asleep, you will no doubt see them in a rather warm and tranquil
state, a relaxed state of completely well deserved rest and being at peace with
the whole world, no doubt comfily nestled with happy and contented faces. This brings to mind that beautiful line, "Let's go look at
the kids" as quoted from the film ‘The World According to Garp’ with Robin
Williams. However, that is not the case with me I fear. For when I finally do
sleep I tend to just slump rather helplessly into a coma no matter where I am
and more often than not these days, it is usually while sat at my desk as my
eyes finally lose focus on that pesky red notification tab in the top right
hand corner of our beloved Google+.
I am not I regret to say, in any way shape or form, a discrete and
fetching sleeper of any kind, far far from it in fact.
Most other people when they nod off look as if they could do with an
extra blanket to completely snuggle into; I on the other hand, tend to look
like I could do with some form of urgent medical attention. When I do
eventually sleep, I sleep as if my whole body is infected with a powerful form
of muscle relaxant. My legs fall wide open in a grotesque come hither manner
and my knuckles usually brush the floor like the hands of a Neanderthal as my
neck contorts, stretching in all forms of weird shapes and direction, allowing
my head some minimal form of purchase to rest upon as I incline into the depths
of my not so comfortable office chair.
Most other people seem to purr in their sleep, but that’s not me either.
Whatever is inside me – my tongue, uvula, moist bubbles of intestinal air or
even my last meal – compounds matters in deciding that now would be a good time
to leak out of my widely gaping mouth and from time to time, like with one of
those nodding duck toys, my head tips forward to empty a gallon or so of
viscous drool down my chest and onto my lap, then falls back again to begin
reloading with an accompanying noise like that of a toilet cistern being
discharged. Thank God my bowels and bladder don’t seek to join in I fret, even
though the odd thunderous fart can sometimes be heard to add to the cacophony.
And while talking of noise, I snore too. Boy do I snore. I snore hugely and
helplessly, like a deliberately drawn cartoon character, complete with rubbery
flapping lips and prolonged steam valve exaltations.
And while others gently roll over into deeper realms of comfort, for
lengthy periods I tend to grow unnaturally still, in a way that invites
onlookers to exchange glances between each other and lean forward in concern,
then, rather dramatically, I stiffen right up and after a tantalisingly long
enough pause, begin to bounce and jostle in a series of what looks to be carefully
orchestrated whole-body spasms that would bring to mind an electric chair when
the switch is being thrown. With my arms and legs now twitching off in all
directions, doctors and nurses could merrily gather round to learn first-hand
what a grand mal epileptic seizure could possibly look like.
And then, as if all the above is not already enough of a burden to bear,
I shriek out once or twice too in a rather spookily effeminate manner to the
crowds all seen running for cover and while not knowing how long I have
actually slept for, minutes usually, when I eventually come to, I will find
that all motion within a radius of 500 feet has stopped and children under the
age of eight will be seen clutching at their mother’s knees in sheer terror as
I now fight with the crick in my neck for some form of normal composure while
looking down at what can best be described as the product of a wild cat the
size of a tiger having regurgitated its fur-ball contents all over me.
It’s a terrible cross for anyone to bear I’m sure you’ll agree. Least of
all the likes of a chap like me. And while I have often been seen to be
berating the absolute perils of insomnia here on this very blog, I’m sure
you’ll all now agree; it (insomnia) still has to be far more favourable than
the prospect of this particular fellow in slumber.
So there you have it, my terrible secret is now out. And knowing now,
what you didn’t know previously, all that remains is for me to do is to ask,
would anyone like to buy my redundant bed?
As the Libyan revolution/debacle still continues
to unfold around us, surprise surprise, the Great Powers are now seen to be lining
up to grab at the post-war spoils, and are now seen starting manoeuvres to
exploit the needs of whomever fills the vacuum.
Having already poured huge resources into the NATO effort so far to ensure that western control is retained in the region, they are now beginning to expect the quid pro quo from the recipients of this largesse.
However, it appears to me that the ingrates are a little savvier than their deadly celebratory shootings into the air would otherwise indicate.
As the British government now begins to show its hand by being both patronising on the one side ("didn't you do WELL!") and demanding on the other ("and don't forget who put you here") those pesky Libyans have just pulled a fast one on us.
It was a no-brainer for them. The intelligence revelations exposing the relationship between Gaddafi, the CIA & MI6 were always going to be toxic, and any owner of said material would know that. Therefore, Washington and London could only sit back and hope that the current (and no doubt fleeting) leadership would not bite the hand that has so generously fed them in order to keep the powers sweet.
However, it's still a war out there, and everyone can do perfidy, and the National Transitional Council has already chosen to play their ace before the dust has settled.
The west may be able to rely on 400 years of tried and tested colonialism to know what works, but they must also realise that by now, SO DO THE COLONIALS.
Last week it was claimed that the suspected killer of WPC Yvonne Fletcher during the embassy siege in London 1984 had been found executed, "shot, possibly by former regime apparatchiks hoping to silence him". No doubt the new guys were aware of the expectations of the British government having previously shunned requests for his being tried, yet were keen to end any unnecessary wrangling that did not advance the cause of the NTC. So, Bang Bang: Problem Solved. And let’s not forget that in the "fog of war" that's easily done.
If the British Government had any notions that the Libyans would care a fart for any of the Tory promises to the oil companies, then they are now well and truly dashed.
Curiously enough though, you must give the
Tories some credit. Cameron has immediately taken the opportunity to place the blame
for the MI6 farce squarely on the Labour party shoulders and the previous
government! He may still not have any ideas of his own, but he's still a master
of the pointless political smokescreen.
Meanwhile, BP and the other BIG OIL companies will now just have to resort to their own usual covert methods to turn the situation around to their advantage. And I bet you any money, they soon will do.
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