Chapter 25: It's a girl

This is the conclusive chapter of this "blog-book". It would be a shame to start from the end. Like watching Doctor Who from the last series backwards. Please go to chapter one, and start as you should start any book and have some self respect. Thank you for visiting.

Chapter @% (25): It's a girl

Mr BooHoo sat on the toilet and took a long wizz, looking between his thighs at the rising steam caused by the difference of temperature. We keep calling him a "he", not because we are following some silly stereotype about the superiority of our dick-owning fellow humans but because at the beginning of our little narrative it made much more sense to have a character named "Mr" than "Mrs", or "Miss", or "mademoiselle" and also so as to avoid some stupid stereotypes associating moodiness with vaginas. Truth is he is most probably a penis-loving little lady. Not that he does not instinctively follow with his gaze the first round bum or a nice pair of jiggling titties when they pass in front of him but he became aroused more easily with the feel of a firm "disco stick" (namingschemes.com says it is a valid synonym for penis). So "he" was going through a semi-violent attack of pms that made him want to organize everything in nice, square shapes and separate things by color and function. He also felt he was a very confused girl. Career-wise things were "undefined", monetary things averted him, no good jobs as somebody's employe were available and sometimes he thought he might want a baby. Perhaps this thought might have been planted by his gynecologist. Perhaps there really is a stupid-clock-thing about maternity.
 He knew, with certainty, he wanted to eat a banana and chocolate spread sandwich. He thought this was a sign of clouded judgement.
 Mr BooHoo sometimes dreamt he had a baby. In every dream something absurd went wrong. When he thought well about it he considered all the things he wanted to do before he became a mother. You already know his mother issues from a previous chapter. But he took rather good care of his dog, his little house and his partner. And things were going slow anyway. Yet, he did not really have any free time to himself and if  he made a baby he would have to sacrifice some of his important occupations. This, he found scary. And still he thought about it more than he would like to. The thought was there and as if this was not enough he was in the middle of a baby boom. Some of the people who were having children were actually nice. They had potential of bringing nice people to this world. The world of motherhood had a strange charm for him. Raising a child should have some very nice moments too. But what about adolescence? How the fuck do you get by with a child during puberty? He or she should disagree with you so that you know it is starting to think for itself but what would you be prepared to argue about and still tolerate, love and admire the other person? And what about him? Sometimes mothers stop being themselves and become somebody's mothers. Why did he want it so much?
 So there you go. I'll leave you there, dick in hand, because this story has huge resemblances with reality, even though all characters and incidents are fictional. You have it : a story of unsuccessful living.     

24th chapter: comic relief

Chapter@$ (24): Why you shouldn't eat fruit and drink milky coffee before a job interview

    Mr BooHoo was neatly dressed. He had on nice green pants and a yellow shirt and was sitting quietly on a yellow chair by a red table, on the porch of an art-studio. It was a mild, although somewhat windy evening of the last week of August. Mr BooHoo was patiently waiting for a possible employer to arrive  and he was experiencing a rather embarrassing and droll situation.
    He had been there for the first time in June of the same year, for an interview about the position of an art-tutor at the previously mentioned studio, that is situated in one of the most posh suburbs of the capital city. That time, in order to get there, he had taken a bus, got off at the last stop and then walked. It had been a poor choice because it had taken him almost two hours to arrive and was therefor a quarter of an hour late for his appointment. He did not get the job but was offered a position as a teacher of knitting instead.
   This time he started earlier and took the subway and then a bus that left him much closer to his destination and thus he was half an hour early, which is how his unfortunate adventure begun.
   Due to various reasons he found himself deprived from proper sleep for four days. As a consequence coffee was his best friend, so as to cope with his hectic schedule. After lunch he had three hours until he would start coming here and he knew that a nap would be more harmful than helpful, as he would wake up with a heavy head. Instead he decided to watch a film and relax. He also had a cup of coffee. He watched "Guildenstern and Rosencrantz are dead" and he liked it so much he felt optimistic. He put on the clothes mentioned in the beginning of this chapter, grabbed his backpack, a map of the district where he was heading and then made a mistake. Mr BooHoo ate a peach.
   All was well until he got into the subway but whilst in there he felt an ominous movement of his stomach. He thought it was stressed induced and that it would go away. Alas, it didn't and when he got on the bus it became acute and spread to his lower abdomen. Now, he could say with certainty that the fruit and the coffee were having a violent disagreement in his bowels. By the time he got off the bus he really had to use the toilet.
   Having to poop before a job interview is a  fearsome state of affairs. Since he arrived so much earlier he thought he could ask to go to the loo and hope it would not be too close to the employer's office. When he got there, there was no one to open the door for him! He was all alone in this ugly neighborhood with similar, big houses and meticulously shaped bushes, with his tummy aching and hopeless. We are talking about bad luck. He decided to take a walk and search for a coffee-house.
   Eventually, not very far he came across a commercial street with shops, restaurants and cafeterias. Now he had to choose carefully. It had to be a not crowded place, that served coffee so that he could get something cheap and small and use the lavatory. Not an easy thing to find among these overpriced, sassy joints. He could not afford to pay a fiver just for a dump. Finally he found a cute little cafe, ordered a hazelnut-flavored latte and went to the wc. It was all-right and after he did a dirty-trick in there, took his coffee and headed back for his interview. The time passed, he was still alone and his belly started hurting again. He was getting furious! A little longer and he would think of going to the back yard and leave a nasty surprise for them, among their carefully groomed bushes.
   This is where we found him at the outset of our story.
   After a while the directress of the establishment showed up from the back yard, looking for him. She had changed the location of her office and had failed to inform him. The idiot!


 

23rd chapter

chapter @£ (23): the Era of the Ogres

    Despite a common claim, Mr BooHoo was a real humanist in principle. His misanthropic feelings derived from human stupidity, malice, egoism, loose morality and disrespect towards other humans, animals and natural laws. Attitudes that most religions would classify as inhuman. Furthermore Mr BooHoo experienced all the above in a personal level and it saddened him. It was not life that was full of pain and suffering but living among other people. I shall repeat that his hate was not general, he would never kill for example, he would rather take all idiots and all bad people and let them live in a small island somewhere, so that they eventually exterminate each other. He would also be happy if it could go the other way; all the nice and bright people could form a country of their own and "live long and prosper" there happily ever after. And off course the place would be called Utopia. (sigh) Some individuals were worst than others and we are not talking about gangsters here, we are talking about everyday people that will do anything to bring you to their level and make you as miserable as possible. Whenever Mr BooHoo complained about the unfair, stupid and harmful behavior of people he met, to his mother as a child, she always said that he should be patient because the world was full of jack-asses and that he would encounter plenty more in the years to come. This made no sense. If a person was an evil jack-ass, in Mr BooHoo's mind, the victim should make the experience public, so that other people could know that this person was a bad jack-ass and avoid him or her, for their own sake. Nobody wants a thief or a rapist in their house so why should assholes be tolerated? We should he shut-up and accept such people in his life?
   When Mr BooHoo reached adulthood (old enough to vote and drink legally) he left his home-town and went to a bigger city to study. There, he managed well-enough to keep asses out of his life as much as possible. At least the really harmful ones. Years passed and he finished studding and he changed jobs and he fell in and out of love and then he fell in love again and moved in with a partner and then, ass-hole wise the shit hit the fan. The partner was a great human being but there were Ogres in the family. This is how he got involved in the following story.
 
   The head-Ogre was talking non-stop [it was a town Ogre, one of the kind that has learnt to use a fork and a knife and a computer to browse the internet, although it has failed to discriminate between truth and lies. The previously mentioned abilities have made it feel so confident of its wit that, as a greek saying goes, it thought it had caught the priest by the balls (nomizee oti ehei  piasei ton papa ap' t' arhidia- a phrase full of sarcasm that describes an overconfident person with an inferiority complex that thinks he or she has an advantage or a good deal or understanding of something)]. Mr BooHoo was feeling that he was reaching the limit of bullshit he could hear being repeated without puking blood  that would run out of his brain. Instead of putting on a set of head-phones and manifesting in this way that the speaker might as well be farting through its mouth, responded with a question. He hoped that it would make the Ogre shut up and reflect for a moment. The talk was about politics. The question was "How can you claim that it is different to vote according to your consciousness and according to what you believe is the best for the society?". Apparently the Ogres morality extended only to protecting primarily its own ass, its house and perhaps its children and the rest of the world can go fuck them selves and suffer slow and dreadful deaths. Not very ethical or good, is it?
   The Ogre kept saying that public well-fare should be considered first but it did seam to have a quirky idea of what public well-fare meant. Further on, Mr BooHoo knew for a fact that the Ogre had been supporting the dominant conservative party because they helped it acquire an important position as a public servant. Instead of fighting a corrupt and unreasonable system it tried to be safe from it by being part of it. If anything, it had no right to tell other people what to vote and get aggravated when they didn't. In addition to the above the Ogre was older than Mr BooHoo so it was completely unfair to judge other young people for the current situation because it had contributed for long to the things being as they were. It even had the nerve to say that it was left wing at heart but that personal beliefs meant nothing when it came to electing a government. It had also said that it was alright to take advantage of unfair laws if there was profit in it, that women were the ones that should take care of the house, do the dishes and bring up kids but that it was ok to have a job to bring money to the house too, that (other) people should stay in their own countries and that there would be a world-war that would extinguish
all but a privileged ten percent of the current population of the planet and this was why it was important to finance a great army.
   Apparently Mr BooHoo's ability to express an opposition to the things it said seriously bummed it, because it became offensive. It said that Mr BooHoo did not watch enough television or read enough newspapers to have an opinion, that he was a victim of left-wing propaganda (except that it never bothered to actually ask him what his political views were and what he thought of existing political parties) and that no person was educated enough to be able to align individual and public well-fare. Truth was that Mr BooHoo was a real book-worm and although the Ogre had visited the house where Mr BooHoo lived with his partner it never took the trouble to go through the titles and thus see that Mr BooHoo was interested in ideas and eventually politics and culture. Then it started misquoting ancient Ogre and false appeals to authority. Mr BooHoo was dumbfounded. He hadn't got involved to a conversation where one of the participants had so limited skills and so little respect for the fellow speaker, probably never before. The Ogre  concluded its monologue by informing him that he spoke as the dumb people it met at the cafe where it spent its afternoons and that he was a bad conversationist because he did not lay out enough arguments. Mr BooHoo had almost reached the spot where his grief for humanity made him feel suicidal.
   There was nothing he could do about this family. When he expressed a different opinion he was accused of being too much of a rebel, when he kept his opinion for himself he was accused of being dumb. They were everything he stood against of. Violent, short-sighted, miserable, small-hearted, arrogant, egocentric twats! And they understood shit because they wanted to understand shit. If Mr BooHoo said for example "A", they would not just say "B" because then there would be a common ground  to argue that would potentially benefit both sides. They would just say "not A, I believe in 897(random number). Worst part was that in order to respect his partner's wish to see the family he would have to see them again and again. They made him feel as if the world was full of Ogres and that this time he would have to tolerate and do this in contradiction to his beliefs and this sucked.
 

Chapter 22

Will you be so kind and start from chapter 1 if you are a first time visitor? Atta boy/girl!

Chapter @@ (22) : Gypsies

Summer was there for good and the thermometer showed constantly above 35 celcious degrees, the occasional wind felt as if somebody was blow-drying you and Mr BooHoo was suffocating. Why is it that people find it hard to breath in heat-waves? Once, on a train he had met a woman that had lived for a few years in Egypt and she said that when she first got off the airplane she felt that she was suffocating. Then she got used to it.

The heat was intolerable. He tried to start his day as earlier as possible but it seamed pretty futile as it was terribly hot even at dawn. Especially during the early afternoon hours, when the sun splashed on the tiny apartment it required some effort to stay awake. Mr BooHoo was very similar to animals when it got so hot. He felt drowsy and lifeless. Staying by the sea and swimming all the time was the only way he could tolerate summer. Now he only worked once per week outside the house but he would feel guilty to take money from their limited budget, leave his partner and dog behind and go on vacation. Thus they only went swimming on weekends, a thing he had always considered a not so good idea because, well, everyone went swimming on weekends.

Living in the capital of the country meant that at the majority of beaches even putting your feet in the water was too risky. Pollution was a huge issue. One beach that was almost decent was the one near his hometown. It has already been mentioned that Mr BooHoo went very sheldon to swim as a youngster. This was because this beach was considered to be polluted as well until a few years back. (This would be the time to go through a few conspiracy theories but I will avoid it). Now that shore had a blue flag that confirmed the suitability for swimming and also it supported wild life, urchins, seaweed, small fish, jellyfish (one attacked his partner the previous week and made his left wrist full of tiny blisters) etc. It also smelled all right and looked ok. The water was clear unless it blew towards the wrong direction because then the sand rose form the bottom and made it less transparent. Further on, it took only an hour to get there, so in general it was a good choice for a small swimming excursion.

So, I.the dog, the partner and Mr BooHoo got into their nice old car that, unlike the contemporary car design that has an uncanny resemblance to toy cars found in chocolate eggs, was big and angular an they set off for the sea. Everything looked fine, they had small sandwiches and fruit, water and books, bathing suits and towels (Mr BooHoo belonged to a sci-fi sect, the members of which are unaware of each other, with a general belief that one should always have a towel handy and that, also, one's life could be less unsuccessful if he knew his or her towel's whereabouts). All they needed was a nice thick shade.

They arrived at the beach earlier than usually but no shade was available. Mr BooHoo started cursing at the idiotic aspiring fishermen that instead of going a few kilometres further on to do their fishing they kept spreading wild hooks on the beach, where the only thing they would probably catch was somebody's bottom. The water was too shallow for fish, there, anyway. Bloody buggers! Eventually they found a nice not so crowded and hook-free spot under a tree and they declared it theirs. I.the dog seemed to take it up on her to keep intruders away and the rest of the people that were already there to behave. Next to them was a charming little family of gypsies. They never got a good look at the purple-clad mother's face, as she was constantly taking a nap on a thin carpet. The father was dark and bearded and he was obviously enjoying life as he was playing with his three pre-school rascals in the water, making a very good impression to Mr BooHoo who wondered if his father had ever had such a good time with him and his sister. When they got out of the water he dried his sons' heads with a thick towel. He seemed to have a perfect mixture of concern and recklessness so as to raise perfectly healthy children.

More gypsies arrived, calling each-other cousins, with more children of various ages. They spread another thin carpet behind Mr BooHoo and with a couple of pillows they formed a nice impromptu outdoor living room. Although from that point on it became much less interesting for the dog, that turned into a rather pissed-off bitch with the new arrivals and had to be restrained, it became considerably more interested for our little hero.

Mr BooHoo always felt all right around gypsies, except for one time and even then it was his fault. Of course he had avoided having his palm read a few times and refused to buy stolen flowers a few more, but this doesn't really count, does it now? At primary school he had a few gypsy classmates but they dropped out after a couple years. He remembered that he got along fine with them. They did not hung around together during recess, but then again no one hanged around with him either. They even stood on his side a couple of times when he was being bullied. Once he had been the accidental receiver of a large spit from one of them. The real target ducked just in time but the spitter seemed sincerely sorry for having spitted on the little Mr. Mr BooHoo did not mind it that much. He was mostly sorry that the actual offender had not been spit upon. 


The people on the beach were just as kind. Women were a little reserved at first but then they also talked to him. One of the men said that the dog would be great for hunting hedgehogs and then a woman said that they tasted great and gave an extended description of  how to cook them. You skin them with a knife and remove their intestines, then add your spices and then cook them on a stick on a fire. All other manners of cooking are also ok. Another said she thought this food was disgusting. Their friendliness made Mr BooHoo feel like a dork. He felt he did not know how to behave and that he was pretentious. Although generalizing is wrong, he felt that he had never before seen such an immediate reaction to kindness. What a smile these people have! He was reading so much literature on social disobedience and had been thinking for so long of himself as a well-mannered Parias and suddenly he was among people that had always been living in the margins of the western society, that he felt it caused all his troubles and confusion, and still they survived without it, assimilated some of its parts and kept their own ways for others. Could he ever fit in such a community? Being a weirdo there would be different from being a weirdo in his own environment? Was he such a big idiot so as not to understand that he was a true breed of the civilization he was trying to reject (a very lukewarm rejection that is). These people knew how to survive. He liked hedgehogs and was against hunting. Well, they did not seem to get all their food from the supermarket. They ate hedgehogs, too. Thoreau claimed to have eaten a rat. He supposed that when it comes down to your food, killing it is a vary respectable choice. And he kept thinking. Another time on another train he had become acquainted with another very charming gypsy. They talked and eventually that person suggested that he cancelled all other pre-fixed plans about his life and that he went on to sell watermelons in an open truck. Mr BooHoo never forgot about this alternative and often wondered about this life-style. 


His day was turning out pretty awesome. He got into the sea again and swam for some time. Then he lied backwards and let himself float with his ears in the water. All he could see was the bright blue atmosphere and hear almost nothing. Is there a kind of yoga or meditation one can practice in the sea? If not they should make one. Le-vi-ta-tion. He hoped that this could be a day that he could look back to when feeling sad. And he hoped than when he did that he would not think of himself as merely "easily amused".             

Chapter 21

I would like to inform the unimaginative that the fact that this the 21st chapters signifies the existence of 20 previous chapters. Also, the story is sort of linear, so, I would advice you to go back to chapter 1 if this is your first time here. 

Chapter !@ (21) : The beginning of the 28th summer of our anti-hero

Summer had arrived at the land were Mr BooHoo dwelled. It was hot and as definite as it could. At that particular part of the planet summer was rather unpleasant unless one had the privilege of living near the sea. Mr BooHoo was an inhabitant of the biggest city of this country. In addition to this unfortunate fact , the climate change had altered the texture of the Sun, making any attempt to go out for the biggest part of the day a very bad idea. Mr BooHoo recalled that when he was a toddler and until he finished high-school the warmth of the Sun was pleasant in the morning and tolerable even  for someone as fair-skinned as he was during the noon. He was never a summer-person but being under the sun was never such a big issue. Now from noon until a couple of hours before dusk the Sun was sizzling. He felt as if his skin was torched. The heat and the mosquitoes made a descent night's sleep rare and he got up fairly early in the morning, about a couple of hours after the sun-rise. To battle sleep-deprivation he had started taking cat-naps during the warmest hours, when he was good for nothing anyway. The down-side of this was that he had vivid, not always pleasant, dreams and small incidents of sleep-paralysis. 

Our story takes place in a morning that followed a pitiful, four-hours night slumber. The day was not extremely hot due to strong winds, that would totally spoil any attempt to go swimming. Luckily, he did not plan to go to the beach. He would go to the mountain, or to be more precise he would take the dog for a walk up the nearest hill. 

On they went, Mr BooHoo and his half-breed pitbull, making an occasional stop for the dog to explore.         Mr BooHoo observed his surroundings. The warm smell of pines was sort of pleasant and the few weeds that survived in the heat were interesting. Yet, soon he realized that he was walking in a landscape of decay. The limited period of spring had resulted in limited bloom. The soil was dry. The grass and susceptible greenery  were yellow and dead. The dominant colours were the grey of the stone, the brownish of dirt, the yellow of dead leaves and the dull green of the thirsty pines. The dog was panting and trying to walk in the shade. Mr BooHoo found himself pondering on the endlessness of human stupidity and malice. So many things were simply wrong! It was as if idiocy had declared war against reason, progress, health and truthfulness. And people were outgoing as usual because it was "summer" and "healthy, open people enjoy summer". He felt certain that the moron who came upon that theory had serious issues of perception, or lived in an alternate universe. 

He took a large sip of the freshest air available in the city and headed back home. After all, the dog must have gotten thirsty and it was an innocent creature, that followed him around and showed affection. Mind you, he was not one of those idiots that prefer animals to humans, he would go for a nice chat with an intelligent being at any time, it's just that really intelligent people were hard to come across, especially if one tries to avoid the rest. He would just have to tolerate another day. After all, time passed, the rest of his life would just happen with or without his consent and his lifetime would pass as well, just like the summer.   

Chapter 20

This is the twentieth chapter. This means that there are nineteen more. It might be alright to read just this one but bear in mind that your experience will be fragmented and this is not a good thing. It will be like when I started watching the new Dr Who episodes in a random order and it made my Dr-Who-fan-friends want to pull my hair. Or like when my friend made me watch the 330th episode of Bleach when I was at the 220th. It was an annoying spoiler.

Chapter @) (20): On Sadness and what followed the first Age of Reason

Mr BooHoo was sitting on the toilet observing the shapes formed in the tiles on the walls and the floor while pondering on the fact that he was a sad person. A year before, when he was suffering from some physical health issues, he had promised himself that in the year to come he would try to be happy. He put  great effort to make happy thoughts. He even left himself small motivational notes, that only helped for a splinter of a second. He was not catatonic, nor was his face constantly grim, but his happiness appeared to be rather fragile. What could he do? He consumed herbal infusions and a lot of sardines but none of these helped. He was happy with his partner and his dog but they did not help either. Could he be chemically unbalanced? Did he need to play more? Maybe it was the water or he might have made a habit of it.

He remembered his childhood as a sad period. Especially the summers. Not a bleeping happy memory. He remembered sitting in their living room (an ironic use of the name as in most houses during that period people spent more time in their kitchens and the living room was solemnly used for entertaining guests), with the blinds closed to keep the heat outside (as if this could be possible), reading old Communist books (both his parents had had the illusion of being communists and rebels when they were young, thus this was the subject of the biggest part of the available literature in their home) melting away on the blue, velvet couches. Books and sleep to avoid the dull reality. They seldom went swimming and less often on vacation. They had sent him a couple of times with his uncle to his aunt's summer house, a place filled with people, none of which had the same age as him. Furthermore, they always forgot to give him something. If he remembered well, because it might have been on an other occasion, once he had arrived there without a swimsuit and once without any money. He could not swim properly, he burnt easily and he preferred to spend his time reading there as well. Reading had two good aspects. It provided with a relief form boredom and it kept people away. See, reader? Not a single fucking happy memory. Unless you want to talk about books and naps.  

Mr BooHoo was always sort of jealous of other people's vacation, happiness and frivolity. But now that he was a grown-up and went for vacation when and where he pleased (well, almost, because a failure of the system had sinked the continent in debt, his country's economy and government was in a hideous shape, the situation was chaotic and in effect, like many others, he had not been payed adequately for almost two years) he could not put his finger on the source of his unhappiness. And the bloody thing suffocated him. It sat on his chest and blocked his throat and made big unreasonable tears run down his chicks.

The other thing that troubled him was a loss of faith in humanity. The majority of the people that surrounded him were complete morons. Something, somewhere had gone extremely wrong. Evolution had not made the right steps. The world must have been getting stupider,  otherwise his previous view of it had been terribly optimistic. He was loosing hope and he was afraid that if it kept going like that he would have to become one of these distrustful,  hateful hermits. He was not a genius but the level of stupidity was, well, "over 9000". He was thinking more and more of a small house, on a top of a hill, in the country, with trees, flowers and internet, and stuff to make stuff, with lots of antisocial dogs and perhaps a crossbow for the unwanted visitors. He would not kill them although he believed that some people should be deprived from the ability of spreading their hateful white-power genes and making stupid little children that would eventually dominate the world.

Right now Mr BooHoo felt like a hermit in the city. His ability to communicate verbally was overridden by all the above. Perhaps it was just the water, or the things they sprayed in the sky.    

Chapter 19

Mr BooHoo is a character with miserable linear adventures, so you'ld better start from chapter one if it is your first time here. Go!Go!Go!

 Chapter !( (19): The smell of blood in springtime

Mr BooHoo was no big fun of religions but it was Easter and some customs were, well, interesting. For example he enjoyed the Holly Friday night, when people got out on the street and followed a box decorated with fragrant flowers, holding yellowy candles and the local band plays a lovely, crooning tune. And the following day their Lord and Saviour rises from the grave and they celebrate it at midnight at church-yards. And they light their candles, that are colourful and fancy, with a fire that never goes out in the Holly grave or another place of that sort. So, Mr BooHoo felt that on a night like this, when you have absolutely  nothing better to do you might as well go mingle with the locals and observe their odd, pagan habits adjusted to the new religion (if one can claim that a 2000 year old religion in new).

There he was, little mr BooHoo, at the church yard feeling oddly alone, candle in hand, observing. It was a strange thing that he saw. A shit-load of people trying to carry the flame at their houses, the female of the species on extreme high-heals, through miniature explosions caused by irresponsible adults that gave children small amounts of dynamite. Then they would all go home and start an after midnight meat-fest. This would continue the following day, and the one after that because they always cooked way to much food so they ate left-overs for the rest of the week and maybe even more.

Mr BooHoo had a very frightening memory from his childhood, of the Easter period. His grandfather would buy a very large animal, enough to feed for a week or so all of his kids and some of their husbands, wives and children, because Mr BooHoo's dad had three siblings, all married or engaged to be married. That animal cadaver (it was lamb most of the times) was hanging from the ceiling inside the living room, covered with a heavy shroud to protect it from flies and other minimal flying predators. It was particularly creepy, dead, covered and smelling of blood. Hidden under the off-white sheets could be anything. Images of zomby-sheep haunted him. Not only that but it seemed kind of fair to get consumed by your food. This year there would not be a whole carcass of an animal but smaller portions had the exact same stench of blood.

Thank goodness for booze, and it was one of these days when one was allowed to start drinking at noon. This is exactly how Mr BooHoo hoped to survive that hideous day, the day that made him think that perhaps vegetarianism was not such a bad idea. But then again, there was bacon, a serious argument against the latter eating habit.

Let the spring-fests begin.