There’s this guy you see the odd time, wandering down the road outside Prince George, picking up bottles and cans.
He’s got this boil thing on his neck, it’s HUGE and almost as big as his actual head, which comes with a thin, sharp jutting nose and eyebrows that stick out like frog-eyes.
The chancre or boil or whatever the hell it is is wrinkly, greyish and looks vaguely like a giant pustulent testicle growing from his ear; it’s forced his whole head to bend unnaturally to one side.
When you see him in daylight, children scream and adults quickly look away (after all you can’t look him in the eye, they’re almost perpendicular and halibut like)… at night he could give Ahhhnold a heart attack.
Our wonderous ‘free medicare’ says that his condition does not impair him significantly (being a monster, he may be highly employable at Barnum & Bailey or Hollywood, * if only he’d ever just make the effort to fill out a ceevee*). I see him and ( supressing my gag reflex) think “For f***‘s sakes just fix the freakin’ guy so we don’t have to look at him!”
Some people can rejoice that none of ‘their’ tax money is being wasted helping someone so undeserving. Maybe we’ll be lucky and next year he’ll limp out with a tray of hors d’ouevres at the next premier’s summit… (uhh how about forty-five billion, Mr. Prime Minister (ekk,choke)?)
***If only he had a hook for one hand, I’d hire him to man the Complaints Department in our store ***
wish I had brought my graphics tablet home…
scroll credits, insert music
In the autumn of my madness when my hair is turning grey
for the milk has finally curdled and I’ve nothing left to say
When all my thoughts are spoken (save my last departing birds)
bring all my friends unto me and I’ll strangle them with words
In the autumn of my madness which in coming won’t be long
for the nights are now much darker and the daylight’s not so strong
and the things which I believed in are no longer quite enough
for the knowing is much harder and the going’s getting rough