[Transcribed from Vertigo: Winter's Edge 2]
In South Foulness, on the Nazareth Road, they give thanks for the day when the Beatified Mostyn Gorbals pissed down the Foulness' vat-grown Messiah's throat to save his life when his heart caught fire. December 25th is Drink-My-Urine Day in South Foulness. Which is why no one ever goes there.
The denizens of South Foulness now recognize each of their neighbor's urine by its distinctive tang and pressure.
My name is Spider Jerusalem. And I fucking hate Christmas.
The Birmingham Street boys shriek "It's Chriiiiistmas" as they descend on celebrity graveyards, exhuming, chopping up, and sorting long-dead rock stars, getting good and fucked up on the rich deposits of old drugs and crystallized adrenaline in their beery, wet carcasses.
It's a winter thing.
Inbred spawn yell and scream and fuck each other in bedrooms and on the streets while their parents slob in front of the TV and dream of living with someone else.
Church bells terrify wildlife and scare the VD scabs off old folks until Xmas-gift puppies are rounded up and strapped to the offending instruments as living mufflers.
By me.
Children spend happy daytime hours building huge, elaborate snowmen in the gardens near my apartment. And so I descend from my high perch of hate in the night with a low-power remolder pen. I lay surveillance cameras, to capture the reaction in the mornings, when awakening children rush outside to see if their snowmen survived the night --
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
--*SPKF TRANSMISSION*--
SPKF Listner: Hey--I see Spider Jerusalem! As the City
prepares to wind down for the winter festivals, Spider, tell us--what are your
plans?
SPIDER: Plans?
SPKF Listner: For the winter?
SPIDER: None.
SPKF Listner: No Christmas? No Hanukkah?
SPIDER: No.
SPKF Listener: No Festival of Winter Hearts? No Wild Hunt? No Three-Nights-of-Hands-Clasped-Against-the-Cold?
SPIDER: No.
SPKF Listner: No Drink-My-Urine Day?
SPIDER: Fuck off.
No family. No girlfriend. No friends.
No love. No hope.
No point.
And Santa Claus is dead! I killed him! [He unbuttons his pants; the panel fades to the point where it's obvious that this is being shown on TV] I killed him with THIS! And I left his stinking corpse in an underground cavern where it is raped by hundreds of toxic-effluent-crazed Gila monsters every second of every day!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
SPKF Anchorwoman: Six thousand traumatized children taken to hospital after Jerusalem interview--TV station claims force majeure--Jerusalem's editor still unavailable for comment... In happier news, Drink-My-Urine Day attracted record crowds this year... *--
The denizens of South Foulness now recognize each of their neighbor's urine by its distinctive tang and pressure.
My name is Spider Jerusalem. And I fucking hate Christmas.
The Birmingham Street boys shriek "It's Chriiiiistmas" as they descend on celebrity graveyards, exhuming, chopping up, and sorting long-dead rock stars, getting good and fucked up on the rich deposits of old drugs and crystallized adrenaline in their beery, wet carcasses.
It's a winter thing.
Inbred spawn yell and scream and fuck each other in bedrooms and on the streets while their parents slob in front of the TV and dream of living with someone else.
Church bells terrify wildlife and scare the VD scabs off old folks until Xmas-gift puppies are rounded up and strapped to the offending instruments as living mufflers.
By me.
Children spend happy daytime hours building huge, elaborate snowmen in the gardens near my apartment. And so I descend from my high perch of hate in the night with a low-power remolder pen. I lay surveillance cameras, to capture the reaction in the mornings, when awakening children rush outside to see if their snowmen survived the night --
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
--*SPKF TRANSMISSION*--
SPKF Listner: Hey--I see Spider Jerusalem! As the City
prepares to wind down for the winter festivals, Spider, tell us--what are your
plans?
SPIDER: Plans?
SPKF Listner: For the winter?
SPIDER: None.
SPKF Listner: No Christmas? No Hanukkah?
SPIDER: No.
SPKF Listener: No Festival of Winter Hearts? No Wild Hunt? No Three-Nights-of-Hands-Clasped-Against-the-Cold?
SPIDER: No.
SPKF Listner: No Drink-My-Urine Day?
SPIDER: Fuck off.
No family. No girlfriend. No friends.
No love. No hope.
No point.
And Santa Claus is dead! I killed him! [He unbuttons his pants; the panel fades to the point where it's obvious that this is being shown on TV] I killed him with THIS! And I left his stinking corpse in an underground cavern where it is raped by hundreds of toxic-effluent-crazed Gila monsters every second of every day!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
SPKF Anchorwoman: Six thousand traumatized children taken to hospital after Jerusalem interview--TV station claims force majeure--Jerusalem's editor still unavailable for comment... In happier news, Drink-My-Urine Day attracted record crowds this year... *--