(no subject)
It was near midnight, the middle of another devastating summer. However, by early evening, a cool breeze which swept across Enmore Road and King street and the Newtown streets were made pleasant by this late hour. Young gothic girls, drunk on rum and cokes and high on poorly cut ecstasy tablets trawled the streets, willing to offer themselves to any man or woman who was willing. For most men, a city filled with inebriated women and $20.00 drugs was a heaven, but such mere mortal pleasures were not for Manek Deboto this evening.
The brilliant rock star and writer sat crossed leg in Newtown park, working his latest creation and attempting to work out whether the unsightly growth on his right testicle was contagious. Alas, he did not see the shadow behind him creep up, only when the blade slit his throat did he notice the mysterious stranger. Even if he had seen his murderer earlier, it would have been to no avail; Manek sat there grinning like an idea and blinking. He was completely scattered. He put up no struggle as his throat was slit, and as his assassin would later say, Manek in fact enjoyed having his throat slit. He died with a full erection.
Robert Langdon, it could be safe to say, was completely annoyed when his mobile phone rang. He was, as usual, in the middle of seducing a foreign woman half his age. It was often speculated, back home in New York that no American woman would ever lower herself to sleep with the professor. It is less clear however, whether that this is due to an attribute of the professor himself or whether American woman are simply frigid women.
On other end of the phone was Detective Cave. Cave was a hardened veteran who had overseen the introductions and enforcement of the rules about smoking in bars. He had lived through some hard times in his life; times when beer could not be bought on a Sunday and when the local pubs closed at 9:00pm. He had lived through the death of Daphne on ‘Neighbours’, the shooting of JR. Needless to say, he was not a man who would willing accept the forced cooperation of the NSW police force with a man who, rumour had it, ‘could not get it up’.
“Oi”, said Cave. “It’s Detective Cave here, with the Newtown police. Is this Langdon, the guy obsessed with symbols?”
“Actually, it’s professor of Religious Symbology”, Langdon replied, understandably terse about the offhand way the Detective referred to the career he had chosen, after he had failed law school, medical school, veterinary science and ‘introduction to resume writing’.
“Look, we’ve got a problem here and the boss thinks that considering the circumstances of the murder, you would be the best person to aid the investigation. Because, I mean it’s not like the police detectives have had training or experience or done this kind of thing before”.
Langdon, thinking he detected sarcasm in the man’s voice, was unable to make up his mind. On one hand, he would definitely earn even more international fame, and with fame came money and moist vaginas. On the other hand though, the 14 year old Catholic school girl was looking up at him with her imploring eyes and barely torn hymen. It was not an easy decision to be made, especially when the bitch hadn’t even made him breakfast yet.
Later:
Our hero reaches the crime scene and is shocked by the appearance of the deceased Manek Deboto. Langdon only wished he could get his penis to stay up that long. At the crime scene, Landon is introduced to Sticky Clit, the beautiful graffiti artist and former member of seminal Sydney rock band, Action Figures, who has been assigned to help Langdon with his case.
Like Vittoria and Sophie, Sticky Clit was beautiful and young. She wore her purple and green hair in a ten inch Mohawk, and was dressed in purple leg warmers, a corset and a leopard print skirt. Around her neck, she wore a dummy and Langdon noticed her grinding her teeth and sweating. He knew this was a sign that she desperately wanted him. Langdon realised when he saw Manek exactly why he had been called to this case, although it was not clear to anybody else exactly why Langdon was in Australia.
Manek’s urine and vomit soaked body was still positioned exactly how the killer had left him, his dreadlocks splayed across the ground and his legs stretched out straight before him, a notebook nearby. Manek’s entire body had been spray painted silver and his both his arms were in an arc over his head. From above, Manek looked as though he was a giant silver spoon. The only difference between Manek and a spoon were the words ‘Strait Edge’ tattooed across his head, which had obviously been done with a ball point pen and a needle- the kind of tattoo stupid punks kids give themselves, whilst jerking off to Amy Lee from Evanesence.
It was Cave who spoke first.
“It is obvious that this was done by teenage “straight edge” punk kids, who obviously decided to take action against the evil work done by these so called “techno punks. Personally I commend them. I’m sick to death of having to clean the vomit off the floor by these “ravers” who fall asleep in taxis and then get dumped outside the station. It’s always the bloody constables who have to nurse them through the morning”. Cave was understandably grumpy. He was exhausted and would rather have been home watching ‘Blokesworld’.
‘It’s a fake’ spoke Sticky Kiss, ‘and I can prove it’. She stared Langdon in the eye, in a desperate attempt to move the lecherous mans eyes from her ample cleavage up to her eyes. Her attempts were, unfortunately, in vain.
“How do you know?” sighed Cave, who was wondering whether Clit’s hair was in fact a wig.
“Come with me”. By this time, it was early morning, the trio leaving Manek’s body to be consumed by any cannibals and necrophiliacs in the area. They reached the Sydney city, just as the shops were beginning to roll open their doors, all ready cluttered with Japanese tourists attempting to find anything emblazoned with kangaroos and koalas.
They descended the stairs into the strange underground city known as ‘Utopia’, although it was much closer to Hades in both height and description. Cave, Langdon and Clit journeyed through the musical labyrinth, until reaching the ‘My Chemical Section’, which was surrounded by strange urchins with dyed black hair, dog collars, pimples and Kiss style eye makeup. Sticky Clit approached the nearest one, a strange being whose shirt read ‘It is much better to be hated for whom I am, then liked for who I am not. Sticky Clit struggled to restrain the bile rising in her throat, caused by both disgust for this creature and too many shots of absinthe.
Sticky approached the girl, under the guise that she was a roadie for ‘The Used’, and asked ‘Dark Raven Night Wolf Candy’ to write the words ‘straight edge’ on a piece of paper, which to Cave and Langdon’s delight, she had pulled out of her bra. Dark Raven Night Wolf Candy, with her chipped black nail polish and reject shop sex bracelets did as she was instructed. She had written ‘Edge’. Cave was amazed.
“Why did you just write Edge?”
“Saying ‘Straight Edge’ is gay.” replied the hell spawn, who was hoping that ‘Demon of Infernal Darkness, Rage and Lust’ was watching her being so cool in front of the crew from My Chemical Romance.
“Are you edge?” asked Langdon.
“As if. I need drugs to help me escape from the inescapable pain which is my every day curse, my cross to bear, my pit of darkness. Besides, edge is dead.”, explained Dark Raven Night Wolf Candy, with all the pain and sorrow of a thirteen year old suburbanite, who parents regularly attended Hillsong. Demon of Infernal Darkness, Rage and Lust was watching, in awe. He totally understood her pain. He lived it as well. Langdon was watching too. If this wench wasn’t do ugly, he could imagine having sex with her.
Despite their different thought processes, it was evident to Langdon, Cave and Clit that whoever would attempt to lower themselves to the standards of an out of fashion spooky kid, even for the purpose of disguise, had real reasons to kill Deboto. It also made the pool of potential suspects virtually endless. Adding to the confusion was the notebook, which was filled with ramblings about lobsters, teddy bears and David Hasselhoff. Whatever Manek had been killed for, the clues would be in that book. Now two tasks lay ahead of them; finding Manek’s killer and unravelling the Deboto code.
The brilliant rock star and writer sat crossed leg in Newtown park, working his latest creation and attempting to work out whether the unsightly growth on his right testicle was contagious. Alas, he did not see the shadow behind him creep up, only when the blade slit his throat did he notice the mysterious stranger. Even if he had seen his murderer earlier, it would have been to no avail; Manek sat there grinning like an idea and blinking. He was completely scattered. He put up no struggle as his throat was slit, and as his assassin would later say, Manek in fact enjoyed having his throat slit. He died with a full erection.
Robert Langdon, it could be safe to say, was completely annoyed when his mobile phone rang. He was, as usual, in the middle of seducing a foreign woman half his age. It was often speculated, back home in New York that no American woman would ever lower herself to sleep with the professor. It is less clear however, whether that this is due to an attribute of the professor himself or whether American woman are simply frigid women.
On other end of the phone was Detective Cave. Cave was a hardened veteran who had overseen the introductions and enforcement of the rules about smoking in bars. He had lived through some hard times in his life; times when beer could not be bought on a Sunday and when the local pubs closed at 9:00pm. He had lived through the death of Daphne on ‘Neighbours’, the shooting of JR. Needless to say, he was not a man who would willing accept the forced cooperation of the NSW police force with a man who, rumour had it, ‘could not get it up’.
“Oi”, said Cave. “It’s Detective Cave here, with the Newtown police. Is this Langdon, the guy obsessed with symbols?”
“Actually, it’s professor of Religious Symbology”, Langdon replied, understandably terse about the offhand way the Detective referred to the career he had chosen, after he had failed law school, medical school, veterinary science and ‘introduction to resume writing’.
“Look, we’ve got a problem here and the boss thinks that considering the circumstances of the murder, you would be the best person to aid the investigation. Because, I mean it’s not like the police detectives have had training or experience or done this kind of thing before”.
Langdon, thinking he detected sarcasm in the man’s voice, was unable to make up his mind. On one hand, he would definitely earn even more international fame, and with fame came money and moist vaginas. On the other hand though, the 14 year old Catholic school girl was looking up at him with her imploring eyes and barely torn hymen. It was not an easy decision to be made, especially when the bitch hadn’t even made him breakfast yet.
Later:
Our hero reaches the crime scene and is shocked by the appearance of the deceased Manek Deboto. Langdon only wished he could get his penis to stay up that long. At the crime scene, Landon is introduced to Sticky Clit, the beautiful graffiti artist and former member of seminal Sydney rock band, Action Figures, who has been assigned to help Langdon with his case.
Like Vittoria and Sophie, Sticky Clit was beautiful and young. She wore her purple and green hair in a ten inch Mohawk, and was dressed in purple leg warmers, a corset and a leopard print skirt. Around her neck, she wore a dummy and Langdon noticed her grinding her teeth and sweating. He knew this was a sign that she desperately wanted him. Langdon realised when he saw Manek exactly why he had been called to this case, although it was not clear to anybody else exactly why Langdon was in Australia.
Manek’s urine and vomit soaked body was still positioned exactly how the killer had left him, his dreadlocks splayed across the ground and his legs stretched out straight before him, a notebook nearby. Manek’s entire body had been spray painted silver and his both his arms were in an arc over his head. From above, Manek looked as though he was a giant silver spoon. The only difference between Manek and a spoon were the words ‘Strait Edge’ tattooed across his head, which had obviously been done with a ball point pen and a needle- the kind of tattoo stupid punks kids give themselves, whilst jerking off to Amy Lee from Evanesence.
It was Cave who spoke first.
“It is obvious that this was done by teenage “straight edge” punk kids, who obviously decided to take action against the evil work done by these so called “techno punks. Personally I commend them. I’m sick to death of having to clean the vomit off the floor by these “ravers” who fall asleep in taxis and then get dumped outside the station. It’s always the bloody constables who have to nurse them through the morning”. Cave was understandably grumpy. He was exhausted and would rather have been home watching ‘Blokesworld’.
‘It’s a fake’ spoke Sticky Kiss, ‘and I can prove it’. She stared Langdon in the eye, in a desperate attempt to move the lecherous mans eyes from her ample cleavage up to her eyes. Her attempts were, unfortunately, in vain.
“How do you know?” sighed Cave, who was wondering whether Clit’s hair was in fact a wig.
“Come with me”. By this time, it was early morning, the trio leaving Manek’s body to be consumed by any cannibals and necrophiliacs in the area. They reached the Sydney city, just as the shops were beginning to roll open their doors, all ready cluttered with Japanese tourists attempting to find anything emblazoned with kangaroos and koalas.
They descended the stairs into the strange underground city known as ‘Utopia’, although it was much closer to Hades in both height and description. Cave, Langdon and Clit journeyed through the musical labyrinth, until reaching the ‘My Chemical Section’, which was surrounded by strange urchins with dyed black hair, dog collars, pimples and Kiss style eye makeup. Sticky Clit approached the nearest one, a strange being whose shirt read ‘It is much better to be hated for whom I am, then liked for who I am not. Sticky Clit struggled to restrain the bile rising in her throat, caused by both disgust for this creature and too many shots of absinthe.
Sticky approached the girl, under the guise that she was a roadie for ‘The Used’, and asked ‘Dark Raven Night Wolf Candy’ to write the words ‘straight edge’ on a piece of paper, which to Cave and Langdon’s delight, she had pulled out of her bra. Dark Raven Night Wolf Candy, with her chipped black nail polish and reject shop sex bracelets did as she was instructed. She had written ‘Edge’. Cave was amazed.
“Why did you just write Edge?”
“Saying ‘Straight Edge’ is gay.” replied the hell spawn, who was hoping that ‘Demon of Infernal Darkness, Rage and Lust’ was watching her being so cool in front of the crew from My Chemical Romance.
“Are you edge?” asked Langdon.
“As if. I need drugs to help me escape from the inescapable pain which is my every day curse, my cross to bear, my pit of darkness. Besides, edge is dead.”, explained Dark Raven Night Wolf Candy, with all the pain and sorrow of a thirteen year old suburbanite, who parents regularly attended Hillsong. Demon of Infernal Darkness, Rage and Lust was watching, in awe. He totally understood her pain. He lived it as well. Langdon was watching too. If this wench wasn’t do ugly, he could imagine having sex with her.
Despite their different thought processes, it was evident to Langdon, Cave and Clit that whoever would attempt to lower themselves to the standards of an out of fashion spooky kid, even for the purpose of disguise, had real reasons to kill Deboto. It also made the pool of potential suspects virtually endless. Adding to the confusion was the notebook, which was filled with ramblings about lobsters, teddy bears and David Hasselhoff. Whatever Manek had been killed for, the clues would be in that book. Now two tasks lay ahead of them; finding Manek’s killer and unravelling the Deboto code.