Sullivan Spliff

Casting a long fuckin' shadow over masculinity worldwide
Lazily setting trendy trends and fiery fires alight
He don't need to shit, don't need to sleep at night
Always poking everywhere it's warm and tight

He's Sullivan Spliff
Sullivan Spliff

In his vicinity bitches be removin' their bras

Swarmin' all around him and fawning en masse

Other fellas are jealous, have their faces stuck to glass

Groaning and bemoaning the fact they're simply outclassed

By Sullivan Spliff
That's right: Sullivan Spliff

His feet are carried by air; his path is lit by morning sun

As he breezes past diseases and pleases everyone

Couldn't count the amount of awesome things he's done

A legend that deflowered at least one Italian nun

That's Sullivan Spliff

The mighty Sullivan Spliff

He rules over kingdoms, endless seas of lands
A crown on a noble head and people's lives in manly hands
Most important of all is a fact that always stands

He be doin' all this shit without wearing any pants

Oh, Sullivan Spliff
Pantless Sullivan Spliff

I can Phil it Collins' underwear is tight

I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord

Is it oxygen and nitrogen and other genes? Pathogens and allergens and genes from a bottle and hallucinogens. That's right. You're trippin', dude. Lay off it. Seriously. I know you wanted some sea food and ordered shrimps but you mumble so inarticulately they thought you wanted shrooms. And what's with the last part? Are you such a big fan of fat that you call out for lard?

I've been waiting for this moment, all my life, oh lord

Patience is a virtue. Waiting all your life for one moment is silly though. You could've done some cool shit in the meantime like petting a panda or water skiing naked or sleeping in a bathtub filled with hot water and warm women. 

Can you feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord, oh lord 

*sniffs air* You pig. Stop laughing out loud. Twice. Ain't funny.

Well, if you told me you were drowning

Couldn't, I was drowning. Had water in my mouth and nose and lungs and other vital organs such as urethra and biceps. We're mostly water so we're drowning all the time anyway. Blrbrlblrblr.

I would not lend a hand

Cheapskate. What about a foot? I'd pay you back in the footure. Honest.

I've seen your face before, my friend

*looks around* lay off the Pornhub. Not healthy.

But I don't know if you know who I am

I know who you are. You have your name written on the thing. But if you ask whether I looked into your soul to know your true self or not… then nah.

Well, I was there and I saw what you did

Shiiiiiiet. Appreciate not calling the cops! You done did me a solid. Maybe I misjudged you.

I saw it with my own two eyes

Glad you specified the amount of eyes. Wouldn't want to give yourself out as a cyclops, what with the hunting season in full swing. Cyclops eyes are more expensive than you realize, see.

So you can wipe off the grin, I know where you've been

Can't a man just be happy he had a nice poo? And I wiped it well. Wait, what?

It's all been a pack of lies

I love Lie's. Especially paprika and onion flavoured. Lie's are the best. Always getting a few packs myself. 

And I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord

Yeah, you can.

I've been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh lord

You have.

I can feel it in the air tonight, oh lord, oh lord

You can. You are repeating yourself. Are you OK?

And I've been waiting for this moment all my life, oh lord, oh lord

You have. You are repeating yourself. Are you OK?

Well I remember, I remember don't worry

Oh, alright. Had me going there for a moment, fella.

How could I ever forget, it's the first time, the last time we ever met

When was that exactly? I think I remember that but we haven't really spoken then have we? I'm not one to talk much. I wonder--do you know the reason why I keep my silence up? Do I fool you?

But I know the reason why you keep your silence up, no you don't fool me

Dammit. Smart bastard.

The hurt doesn't show; but the pain still grows

What happened? Hit your toe? I know the pain but it will pass like a gas. 

It's no stranger to you or me

True, we're both familiar to it. I'm WhatsApping it sometimes. It helped me out a lot when I had no money. If it wasn't there I'd still be broke. No pain, no gain.

And I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord

So you claim. I hope it came. Holding it in for too long can have negative effects. 

Not only gin but also juice!

Someone once told me

There was a lot of drama in the L.B.C

But when I arrived there

It was awfully quiet. 

Nobody was playing percussions.
I was lied to.

He also implied

It was difficult being him

Yet he somehow kept coming up with things

I was suspicious and I found him out.

Asked him if he was coming up

When he was walking downstairs.

The same person boasted

There was a party jumping

Because his mother wasn't home

And when I asked him which party

He looked confused.

They were Democrats, by the way. 

Someone once told me

He's got bitches in the living room

But when I went down to check it out

They were all dead.

It wasn't much of a living room.

I'd say it was a dead end.

He also added that
Said bitches were not leaving until 6 a.m.

Which was a gamble on his part

Because what if we picked up the bodies

And took them out at 5.45 a.m.?

He'd look a fool and a liar.

Then he told us to turn off the lights

And close the doors

After we turned off the lights

We tried to close the doors.

It turned out impossible

They had split up in '72.

Someone once told me

He had his mind on his money

And his money on his mind

I wasn't impressed.

It didn't bother me.

I didn't mind it, I've seen that money times.

The same person said

And I quote:

"You got to get yours and I got to get mine"

He didn't specify though

Whether it was iron or coal.

If the latter - he could join the coalition.

A man once admitted he was suffering

He had some sort of chronic pain

That made him choke

And it was serious

I told him he could cure it

With medical marijuana.

Someone once told me

His friend brought some female companions

To serve him without a cherry on top

Which puzzled me.

There was no cakes anyway.

And there was plenty of seats.

Last time I saw him

He was rolling down the streets

Smoking something resembling a cigarette

And sipping on gin and juice

To a great dissatisfaction

Of ethnic minorities.

Is that your final guess?

'Thought you'd never ask,' murmured Jim from under his red full cap with a little flashy round logo sewn onto it. A glimmer of madness sparked in his eye as he raised his eyebrows and tilted his face pugnaciously towards T. 

'Well, I am asking. What you've done seems like a very odd thing to do. I'm just puzzled,' explained T, simultaneously scratching his flashy round head and eating a mat square apple. Or was it the other way around? 'And as far as puzzle go, I'm just trying to put the pieces together,' continued T, as he was trying to put the pieces together. 

'Hah!' Jim snorted. He was clearly entertained by the whole conundrum. 'This is entertaining. Tell you what, T. Let's play a game. I'm gonna call it... "Guess"', he proposed as a fiendish grin appeared firmly planted on his face like a nice green plant. 'And guess what: you're gonna have to guess.'

'Oh man. Not this shit again.' T knew what was coming. 'I guess I'm gonna have to guess,' he sighed with a resignation in his voice so heavy, it made a bird fall onto the ground as it reached the flying creature's well hidden ears. The bird dusted off its feathers and looked angrily at the two men. It seemed to weigh the pros and cons and the problems and consequences it would face after killing two people and it ultimately decided against it, then flew away.

'Okay, dude. Let's do this!' Attentive observers would have sworn they saw droplets of saliva jumping for life out of Jim's filthy, excited mouth. 'Welcome to our show! Tonight's contestant number one is almighty T! Hello, T! PLEASE STEP INTO THE GUESS ROOM!' shouted Jim with pride booming in his voice, echoing through canyons and any geographical terrain features with similar characteristics. The atmosphere bounced the sound back towards the planet as it was ashamed of letting this abomination venture into the outer space.

'Alright, Jim, I know the drill.' T was anxious to get the whole ceremony over with as soon as possible. 'I worked on an oil refinery for 3 goddamn years. Let's get this whole ceremony over with as soon as possible.' 

'This is the first and last question,' said Jim, building up the tension and excitement. In his own head. 'Are you ready?'

'Yeah.'

'Why???' asked Jim, and everyone around them stood in silent expectation. Well, everyone certainly would have if they were there instead of not being there.

'Let's think,' said T, thinking, 'Maybe because you're a fucking lunatic? An absolute asshole of the highest proportions? A humongous prick?' T's answer was well thought out. He didn't leave a stone unturned during the journey to his mental palace.  

'Never took you for much of a Mad Max 2 fan,' said Jim playfully, and quickly retreated to his role of a game show host. 'Are you sure? One hundred percent? Are those your final answers?'

'Yes,' responded T patiently, knowing there is no other way around it than to play along. 'Those are my final answers.'

Jim paused for a second. He could have sworn he could testify via Spotify before a grand jury that he could hear a sound of a beating heart with volume turned up a couple of notches for dramatic purposes. 'Well, T... I know it's been a dramatic show so far. I know you had to dig deep like a miner and you had to journey into the depths of your essence, you had to take a step inside your soul... Sole. Get it? Hah, hah!' said Jim with all the unhealthy arousal of an electrocuted hamster and all the dignity of an undignified but certified bastard.

'No, you get TO it. I'm tired and I need to know why you did it.' argued T, with a sense of anxiety and tiredness. 

'Well, ladies and gentlemen, the correct answers are...' paused Jim to, supposedly, become even more annoying, 'We'll let you know after a quick commercial break. Stay with us!'

'No,' T's face turned both purple and 360 degrees around it's axis. 'This shit won't do. WHY THE HELL DID YOU STEP ON MY CAT, YOU DICKHEAD?'

He left a note...

Dear Mr. Executive Director of Administration Management Office,

I hereby resign as the Head of the Department of Contentment Development.

I arrived at this decision on a cold Saturday morning with great regret in my heart after several minutes of careful consideration.

There are many reasons (at least 5) for me to hand in my resignation, and even though this is not Christmas, I will present them to you.

I realize we both started our working relationship on a wrong foot and often took steps we later wished we had not taken.

We all know working in the private sector can be very demanding and exhausting and I certainly feel tired even know as I write this letter while lying on a sofa.

It is known we work in a vicious industry where people elbow each other to gain an advantage over someone else’s disadvantage.

I myself have a nose (some say a 'big' one, for the sake of adjectivization) for that kind of thing.

I have looked at it and seen it with my own eyes what it can do to people.

I went knees deep, even though they are very bad, into the relentless fight that was required to dominate the market.

Even then, I sometimes felt I was being held by the ankles by the Board of Directors which certainly hampered my efforts on many separate occasions.

I often begged them to throw me a bone and tell me what is it that they want of me in some particular situations and cases.

I dedicated myself to this Company as I stood shoulder to shoulder with fellow employees during difficult periods… of recession.

I helped this Company rise and flex its financial muscles that lifted us to the top.

I was armed with knowledge, expertise and experience as I ventured into countless wars and bled, figuratively speaking, for our Company's benefit.

I was the brains behind many of our strategic and successful operations and strategies.

I busted my lungs on more than one occasion especially as there was air of pessimism surrounding our Company in its darkest and chilliest days.

I hope everyone can attest I was always standing on my toes, every time displaying vigilance and alertness to everything that was going on everywhere.

I stuck my neck out many times to battle bad situations for the good of the Company.

But with my excellent qualifications I was sincerely disappointed with the amount of leg work I have been assigned that seemed to stretch into eternity.

Moreover, there were certain ongoing things going on behind the scenes that I did not like and when I approached you about them, you did not even lift a finger.

Of course I do not deny I have made mistakes; I admit that openly and I also beat my chest but not very vigorously as not to suggest I am into that kind of thing.  

I unfortunately regret having to work with people who did not know how to keep their lips shut and ran to your office to place complaints about my methods.

Especially the memory of my altercation with Dick which ended in a dirty scrap is still something I remember.

I have also spent plenty of time pulling my hair out trying to figure out how our Company could have fallen so far away from its values and principles and steered into the deceptive territory of moral bankruptcy.

As a final straw, I have heard whispers being promoted among my employees about me being earmarked for demotion.

I am not one to name any names but it seems loyalty turned out to be my Achilles heel.

It did not sit well with me at all, so I decided to stand up for myself and not lie down before the inevitable, but at the same time I have enough decency to not resort to mouthing off.

I am no longer turning the other cheek to see how hard it’s going to be slapped; as I explicitly stated earlier I am not into that kind of thing.

I am finally done with putting my body on the line only to be persecuted by unjust judgement made by an inadequate jury.

Now the ball is firmly in your court and I expect you to return the courtesy of setting your personal opinions aside and accepting my resignation without hesitation.

My decision is final and there is no possibility of me ever coming back and I hope you understand that as soon as possible.

With regards,

Do not mind me,

Your mind

PS. Kiss my white ass, you asshole. 

Bosoms & Buttocks

All your dreams shall come to pass
If you grab some tits and ass
When you sometimes feel harassed
Fight off foes with tits and ass
When you’ve reached critical mass
Hold on tight to tits and ass
After you drank a seventh glass
You’ll sure love those tits and ass
If you’re acting very crass
You ain’t gettin’ tits and ass
When your head gets hit with brass
Heal it fast with tits and ass
You can guess she’s a good lass
If she’s more than tits and ass
If you’re known to let out gas
You can still get tits and ass

So don't give up

The cruel dual rule of the fool is a cool tool

I am using an amusing musing as I let out a mellow hello on a yellow cello to a bellowing fellow outside a bordello while I eat pork with a fork after work and I uncork the wine, not moonshine, as I wait in line to dine on divine bovine I smell pine; it’s past nine, where are you, Clementine?

She’s a duchess in her britches who draws sketches in batches, her face slightly twitches while it itches as she watches and scratches and snatches and fetches a peasant on crutches and switches the stitches while burning witches and throwing bitches into ditches or hatches with closed latches, that’s how she of people dispatches, no escaping her clutches.

Inside she is good slightly misunderstood although a bit prude sometimes can be rude and if I could then I should and I would *interlude* improve her mood, she makes great food and gives me wood.

We never fight; our love is bright as a light as we embark on a flight with Messrs. Wright in great height (higher than a kite), what a sight in the night I can’t quite feel right: it’s a fright, as we might explode like dynamite and we did, oh shite!, it wasn’t slight, what a plight, someone call Knight Dwight, as she and I our lips bite it’s our last rite, can’t write, hold on tight, who’s this wight, I see white…

Hour arts of ruin

Hearts.

I don’t know a whole lot about hearts. Certainly not more than I know about spades, diamonds or clubs but on second thought I know more about hearts than about spades, diamonds or clubs. You can dig a hole with a spade. You can be a bad person and mine diamonds in Africa. You can party in clubs. But that's about it. I know a whole lot more about hearts than that. I stand corrected. Actually I’m sitting now but that’s the universally used phrase so I'll roll with that (I won't, I'm sitting. I'd have to lie down to roll). Who am I to tell you any different? I’m just me, myself and I, except when someone else is referring to me in second or third person, then I’m ‘you’ or ‘he’.

Anyway. I digress.

I know that hearts are red. It’s a solid choice of color. Red’s really rad. It’s a color highly concentrated on being focused. When you see red you see red; rest is just a background noise (sight) that you can hear (see) in the background, resting. There are things that are red and things that aren’t red. Red is such a superior color that it makes green jealous and blue sad. Hearts are red. They are pretty damn great.

I’m personally of an opinion that hearts are pretty damn great. I back this sentiment by an argument that hearts pump blood through your body and generally speaking keep you alive. They make you tick. They are of grave importance. Them and their pals: veins and arteries face an uphill battle every day. They are seasoned mountaineers. They climb the mountain of human existence for a living. If your heart was to stop, you would die. And trust me; there are better ways to spend your life than dying. At least up to the point where you just have to die. No escaping that one, brother. Until then; yeah.

Our hearts are excellent. Our hearts are like a heavy weight boxing champion. No, not a champion of putting things in a square container. Boxing. Sport. They hand out one hell of a beating, day in day out. Night in, night out. On the day the organ forms in our tiny little bodies hidden inside our mothers’ wombs, someone says something about rumbling and someone else puts red (see?!) boxing gloves on your heart and lets it loose in the ring. You can hear the bell. Round one.

Our hearts are filled with blood. Hot, red, red hot sticky blood that runs (actually, as it doesn’t seem to have developed lower limbs, it flows) through our body. I often wonder how is that possible, considering that blood consists heavily of iron. Can you make your favorite shirt look nice with blood? I don’t think so. You would have to wash your favorite shirt again after ironing. Which means you would have to iron it again. It's a vicious, bloody circle. If you want to iron clothes stick to that iron thing machine device and leave blood to do its primary job: keeping you alive. And try not to lose it, dude.

Anyway. I digress.

People who enjoy being alive should cherish their hearts and be grateful to them. People should take care of their hearts: eat well and sing them songs in a calming voice that calms the seawaves waves on sea. People should bake them a glorious cheesecake that has a distinguishable vanilla and lemon aroma (but only in reasonable amounts; you don't want to kill your heart) and say a couple of nice words like 'Hey heart, you're nice' from time to time. Else your hearts will be in ruins. That would come out as an undesirable outcome for all the parties and it would certainly ruin your weekend.

If I was living in Central America centuries before colonization of the continent I would gather up a group of like-minded folk: hearts enthusiasts. We would greet ourselves with hearty hellos and we would build shrines and altars to all the hearts. We would make sacrifices to them and chant chants. “Oh ye mighty Heart. Look kindly upon us for we bear you this gift of some description.” *slices the gift’s throat*

And now our civilization of prophets of hearts would be in ruins. The fading memory of our once great culture would be preserved merely in ancient ruins and skeletons. That kind of ruins it. Except it doesn’t, not really. We were there. We’ve seen some shit and we loved our hearts. Until other people came here and brought silly clothes, funny languages and guns and diseases.

As my final admission hear this: my heart was my favorite heart. Is that selfish? It’s not. It certainly isn't heartless. I don’t think so. Now another one is my favorite and it also became mine which is confusing. My previous heart was stolen from me some time ago. I know the perpetrator and I don’t mind. The perpetrator can keep it for as long as they wish. Just keep it warm and comfortable, okay? Give it a blanket and some cocoa, would you? I’ll do the same for yours (which is now mine; it's confusing). No ruins; no extinction; no fading; let’s keep our hearts alive and let them prosper. Let them pump that blood like a water pump that pumps blood and beat like Dr. Dre.

One day they will stop but at least we will get a good run. Or a good walk. Yeah, I prefer walks. They're a walk in the park. There's no running out of time.

Genuine Investigator (2)

Genuine Investigator Season Two Excerpts, Part Two
Starring: Det. Matthews, Det. Barkley

M: “It’s been eight weeks, Barkley. You got done pretty good, huh? Comin' back soon?”
B: “If I known you for being a betting man, you’d bet. I feel like a comet circling back towards Earth. Been a long time. Those bastards are still out there.”
M: “They are.”

***

M: “We got a fresh lead. A relative of one of the previous victims, Barton Leslie, tipped us off about…”
B: “Wait, wait, wait. Leslie? Are you sure?”
M: “I am.”
B: “I heard someone say that name on the night I got shot.”
M: “And you’re only mentioning this now?!”

***

M: “You sure you up for this?”
B: “I’m up for this and I’m down with that, as the kids say these days.”
M: “You’re not a kid, Barkley.”

***

B: “We’ve been driving for six hours straight. Why do people live so far away from each other? They should all live in one place.”
M: “That would suck some major balls, Barkley.”
B: “You’re probably right. We wouldn’t have to drive for six fucking hours though.”
M: “Fair enough.”

***

M: “What the hell is this thing?!”
B: “Looks like a machine of doom, wreaking havoc upon this very world.”
M: “That wasn’t my first thought.”

***

M: “The Chief was pleased with our work there.”
B: “Feels like we’re flying through particularly dark clouds. The sun is behind them. I can feel it.”
M: “How so?”
B: “Gut feeling.”
M: “The same gut in which you got shot?”

***

M: “This runs deeper than we thought.”
B: “We’re gonna need a bigger shovel to dig through this mud.”
M: “My shovel is big enough.”
B: “Matthews.”

***

B: “Can’t believe he gave them up.”
M: “Told you I’m good at interrogations.”
B: “You did tell me that.”
M: “Told you. Let’s go.”

***

M: “This has been going on for too long. It ends here. Now.”
B: “We've got the area surrounded. No one is sneaking past the firm grip of law enforcement.”
M: “They’ve done it before.”
B: “Not tonight.”

***

M: “Great work there, buddy.”
B: “Indeed. We had each other’s backs.”
M: “We did. Think we deserve a medal or something.”
B: “If that something is a shot of whisky I’m all for it right now.”

***

B: “You know what I’ve learnt from all this?”
M: “What have you learnt, Barkley?”
B: “A lesson.”
M: “You’re like a fucking baby sometimes. What lesson?”
B: “That we can’t always win. We can’t prevent every bad thing from happening.”
M: “But?”
B: “But we can prevent some of them. We can catch those responsible and bring them to justice.”
M: “Sounds about right, Barkley.”
B: “And that’s exactly what we’ve accomplished here. We took down the sharks that were biting at society’s heels.”
M: “Sharks would bite your fucking legs off.”
B: “They would. But we shot them down with the harpoon of justice.”
M: “Did you really just say that? Fuck me.”
B: “What?”
M: “You’re even worse after scotch, my friend.”

Genuine Investigator (1)

Genuine Investigator Season Two Excerpts, Part One
Starring: Det. Matthews, Det. Barkley

Matthews: “I’ve never seen anything like this, Barkley.”

Barkley: “I’ve seen something worse during my days back in the Chicago PD.”

M: “Yeah? How so? What was it?”

B: “Some teenagers got caught under a train that flew off the bridge.”

M: “Grim.”

B: “Yeah.”

***

B: “Well, what leads do we have? What are we thinking?” 

M: “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Barkley, but I’m pretty sure the world’s fucked up. We’ve got the evidence of that. Plenty of it.”
B: “Truer words never spoken. Well, there probably were truer words spoken before but I said that to indicate my agreement with your statement.”

M: “You’re a complicated fella.”

***

M: “Are you sure this is the place? This warehouse looks like any other warehouse.”
B: “That’s the point, Matthews. Camouflage.”
M: “Smart.”

***

B: “Okay. We got something here. Ready to go to the Chief with it? I say it could use some more seasoning and cooking.”
M: “I’m not a good cook, Barkley. Let’s go.”

***

M: “There’s more than one of them.”
B: “There are at least two of them.”
M: “That’s what I said.”

***

M: “Did you run down the plates?”
B: “Not yet. I was too busy marveling at the meticulousness of the crime. It’s like a piece of art and the authors aren’t understood.”
M: “Oh I understand them alright. 'We’re fucked up fucks' they’re saying.”

***

B: “Did you get him?”
M: “I think I hit his arm!”
B: “That was close. Let’s try to find the blood trail. He couldn’t get that far.”

***

M: “What’s on your mind, Barkley?”
B: “I often wonder what’s the point.”
M: “The point of what?”
B: “Everything.”
M: “That’s fucking specific. You're like the goddamn Specific Ocean.”
B: “Like when waves crash against the sand or when trees grow leaves and then drop them for winter only to grow them again in spring or when a person gets so mutilated you can only identify them by their teeth. Doesn’t that make you wonder?”
M: “Wonder what?”
B: “What’s the point of everything.”
M: “No.”

***

M: “We can’t be far off, Barkley. We gotta keep on pushin’.”
B: “Like we’re pregnant. I can see the head of the baby, let’s get the rest of it out in the open.”
M: “We’re dealing with a heinous crime, Barkley, not childbirth. You need to work on your analogies.”
B: “There’s no time. Actually, there is time and it’s of the essence.”

***

M: “We found some old bodies. Similar MO.”
B: “Damn. Let’s go through the old records. And I’m not talking Frank Sinatra.”
M: “Never been a fan anyway.”

***

M: “We should call this in. Get back up.”
B: “OK. But there’s no time to wait. Call it in and let’s go. They can jump the sinking ship if they notice the leaks.”
M: “What’s that mean?”
B: “They’ll run.”

***

M: “We know you’re here! Come the fuck out!"
*gunshot*
M: “Barkley? Barkley???”

Holed on. You're Glocking my view. Don't do death.

A keyhole in a door is a hole in which you put a key in to unlock a lock. There are various ways to unlock a lock. You can use the aforementioned key that fits the keyhole hole and it will open the lock. You can wait for someone to open the lock – run down the clock. You can force it – bust a cap in his ass with a Glock.

Glock is one of leading manufacturares of examples of one of representatives of the small arms branch of weaponry which is a pistol. Weapons, not only pistols, are dangerous. They are designed to inflict various types of damage. They can cause pain, suffering and even death.

Death is the end of a human life. Life is life. It starts when you are extremely young. Young to a ridiculous degree. If you were any younger than at the beginning of your life, you would not be alive at that moment in time. Life ends with death. Death is something that life ends with.

There are many ways to die. Before dying it would be very considerate of you to conduct extensive research and choose the most appropriate and suitable option. Remember you only die once, as they say, so be advised not to fuck it up. You only get one shot at this, one opportunity, unless you fuck it up and you have to try all over again. It is considered by many educated people that those who fuck up their death should be shot to death or at least killed.