Saturday, November 13, 2004

Coming to America

I'm coming to America.

6th - 15th December 2004 - New York City and beyond.

The countdown starts here.

Nonsense Wiki

I have started a Wiki to accompany this blog. I wanted something that wasn't arranged chronologically, so that I can slowly weave together the various obsessions I've documented here. You can view my wiki here, and below is some of the first entry I have made, concerning Mr Extreme.

Mr Extreme - a study in Gore-tex

Gender: Male
Tattooed: Yes
Hair: Black
Hairstyle: Contentious
Age: 30+
Occupation: Veterinary Surgeon

Encountered: Simon Fanning's 32nd Birthday Party, Rugeley, Staffordshire

Mr Extreme arrived late at the party. Is this any surprise, when you consider that this is a man who lives life at its extremes? What need does a man have for a wristwatch when he is leaping blindfold from 36,000 feet above the Staffordshire countryside, with only an outstretched handkerchief to slow his descent.

Answer: he has very little need of a wristwatch



And so he arrived, bursting through the windows, grenades strapped to his chest.

"I feel so extreme. I feel so alive!" he yelled. "And you are all dead, because you only feel truly alive when you are close to death. And how close is death when you are stuffing your dead mouths with Doritos and salsa?"

He shuffled over and began loading his own hyper-alive adrenalin filled skull with Doritos and salsa.

"These are good. These are really good. They will give me energy enough to prepare my next daredevil stunt in an hour or so… you're going to love this..."

He carried on eating. Suddenly, he had a change of pace. He looked around at the astonished guests.

"What's wrong? Have you never seen Extreme Eating?" He smashed the empty plate against the wall and started munching on the shards. Blood spurted from his lips. He grinned.

"We used to do this all the time in Afghanistan… until we ran out of plates. Then we started throwing ourselves from cars..."

The party continued. Mr Extreme would interrupt every now and again, with extreme comments. Then he started getting restless. About 45 minutes had elapsed and he kept anxiously darting his eyes from side to side. Then he disappeared upstairs. A few minutes later, a strange noise started up and we heard shouting.

"COME AND LOOK! CHECK IT OUT! COME AND LOOK!"

The guests filed out to the bottom of the stairs.

An amazing scene had been constructed.

The stairwell was littered with huge boulders, the front door was wide open. At the top of the stairs, Mr Extreme was sat in a compact kayak, his paddle at the ready.

"Please, file outside," requested Mr Extreme. "I should be the only person in harm's way for this..."

We went outside, stood around waiting in a suburban cul-de-sac. We could see Mr Extreme at the top of the stairs.

"I've blocked your toilet and sink, Simon. I've stuffed rags into them and the plumbing bill we be massive, I assure you. But my guess is you'll forget all about that when you witness the extreme act I am about to perform on your birthday. Yes! I am going to whitewater canoe down your stairs and straight out onto your driveway! How EXTREME!!!"

Mr Extreme turned and pulled away a piece of industrial plastic with which he'd sealed the thousands of gallons of water into the bathroom. Moments later, the door began to buckle, the wood cracking, water spurting through.

And then, with a huge roar, the door exploded and tonnes of water rushed out, sweeping past Mr Extreme, lifting up his canoe.

With a primal grunt of satisfaction, Mr Extreme began battling his way down the stairs, his canoe leaping up almost vertically from the boulders, his upper body lost in a tremendous spray of foam. With increasing violence he was swept towards the doorway, and with a whoosh, he flew through, past the bemused guests.

Outside on the street, his canoe wedged with a tremendous crack under the wheels of a parked car.

"Aaaaagh!" screamed Mr Extreme. "I think I've cut my legs off!"

He turned to us and grinned.

"Not really, folks! But how EXTREME would that have been!"

We filed back into the house and left him there.

8 Comments:

Blogger BrooklynVoice said...

(Ahem).

Please drop a line when you get to town, if you'd like to hang with some locals.

12:53 PM  
Blogger kingfelix said...

Thanks Brooklyn,

I could use some local help as I've been variously told to expect to be robbed, swindled, etc.

I was also advised to keep all my money in my shoe, leave nothing in my hotel room of value, and "walk like a man, but not so like a man that people think you are looking for trouble" (which i have been practicing this week)

9:00 AM  
Blogger bhikka said...

What about me am I allowed too?

2:46 PM  
Blogger bhikka said...

Bizarre, but I actually know a vet that has had recent plumbing problems!

3:16 PM  
Blogger kingfelix said...

hmmm, truly bizarre would be saying "how weird, my friend whitewater rafted down my stairs this weekend last"

xxx

4:04 PM  
Blogger Claypot said...

How are you doing that 'read full post thing'? I need that, I witter on a lot.

2:11 AM  
Blogger kingfelix said...

claypot

http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=898&topic=41

takes tweaking of your template And post template

let me know if you get stuck, pinhut@gmail.com

7:40 AM  
Blogger Claypot said...

Much obliged. I'll try it later.

1:53 AM  

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