{!oo9;} Meet... the anti-christs. lol
Yesterday night, I had nothing planned. Nothing at all. And wow do I love nights like that - Nights when there's nothing to do, but sit back, grab a big bag of popcorn, and watch some TV. That's what I call quality time.
But obviously my quality time wasnt meant to be, because, yesterday night, as I setted down in front of my TV, grabbed my big bag of popcorn, and started flicking through the channels; I was interrupted.
“Ryan!? Ryan! Ryan?! Can we come in your room!? Can we? Can we? Can we!?” - and before I even so much as had a chance to answer, they’ve bulldozed down the door, pushed me out the way and started a jumping competition on my bed.
“Don’t you dare touch my CD’s!!” too late, they’re being used for Frisbee practice.
“Get off my keyboard! It really doesn’t like being banged like that!!” Oops. They’re banging it even harder.
“My fridge was not made for you to climb inside! Stop kicking my cushions!!! Where the hell have you five come from!?”
“Auntie Anita said we were allowed to come and play in your room.” They all chanted in satanic unison.
“Well Auntie Anita can go f**k herself!!” I didn’t actually say that… cos if I had, the stampede of five little darlings would have run off to their Fuhrer ‘auntie Anita’ to tell her exactly what I’d said (with added exaggerations of “Ryan said he wants you dead!” and “he tried to sell us over E-bay to perverts!!!”) , and my death warrant would be signed. But hey - I thought it ... more than once! *lol*
Ah. Meet my step mothers, older sisters children. The five anti-christs.
Shoot the lot of them, is what I say. Ha! :-p
There's five of them. five less when I get my hands on 'em! lol! And they all live in a big house mansion in Kent, enjoy a spot of croquet on weekends, and speak like fannies - yet have the cheek to think its me with the funny accent! “Oh, william - doesn’t Ryan sound common when he talks? How quaint!”
“Yeah, well least I don’t talk from my arse!”
“Goodness. He’s swearing!”
“I swear you’re gonna die!!!”
They’re all so posh. Freakin’ Upper classes. The French had the right idea when they had a revolution, and decided to guillotine the bastads. That must have been a bloody good laugh. *lol*
I tend to dislike really posh people In general. Not being stereotypical here - just basing my feelings on a lifetime of being subjected to the gits. *lol* - I remember, when I was about eight years old - my dad sent me to boarding school for a couple of terms semesters, because his work involved a lot of travelling. The place was full of really posh kids, all swanning about in their Versace uniforms. I learnt to despise them even then - back when they boycotted my new kids on the block album, in favour of some Mozart. (Ooo New kids on the block! Anyone remember them!? Wow the memories! Hahaha)
Dad doesn’t understand my hate for Anita’s relations. “Oh, but Ryan - they’re such nice kids. Why don’t you just give them a chance?”
“Give them a chance? A chance to kill me!? A chance to give me a nervous breakdown!? I think not!”
“Sure they’re not that bad…”
“C’mon… they’re the terrorists of the future!”
“They speak so well, too. I wish I’d sent you to elocution lessons.”
I grimaced. My accent appears to be the shame of the family - dad doesn’t like me talking to his friends from work - my enunciation is too ‘working class’, which they all find hilariously amusing, - “By Jove David! You’re son speaks like he’s walked straight out of ‘0liver!’ - I thought they only speak like that in Eastenders! Do you know any cockney rhyming slang, Boy?”
And I’m sat irritatetedly twiddling my thumbs, which leads them to think I'm also some backwards case. (they're probably right! hehe)
But anyway - Anita's four nephews, and her niece (She’s got more… oh yes, there’s more… but they’re the children of her other sisters. *gulps* lol!) Took it upon themselves to burst into my once tidy room, and start an orgy riot.
Let me introduce them - There’s William. James. Charles. John and Emily.
Now, William - he’s fifteen years old, and built like a brick shit-house. As dense as one to. Honestly, he’s about 6 foot four, with muscles on his eyelids, and arms like tree trunks. I remember when I first met him- I was 13, and he was almost 10. He was bigger than me then, and he’s bigger than me now. A fact he’ll never let me forget. *sighs* Williams been playing rugby since he was born (no exaggeration! Lol) and he’s tipped to play for England someday. His love for the sport Is shown, by his constant fixation, with putting me into a head-lock, and flipping me over his shoulders, every five minutes or so - just to prove he can.
Next, there’s James, or ‘Jamie’; going on 14. Looks older than me already. He has one of those ‘amusing’ quiffs in his hair, and he’s sooo public school, that its wrong - he’s also the spitting image of Prince William. He says things like, “Bravoo chaps. Jolly Good!” When most guys his age, would say, “F**in’ ‘ell mun! Dat was well wicked!”
He likes polo matches, and knitted jumpers. I think he dreams of becoming the first ever homosexual British Prime Minister. You see, I can be extremely camp for a straight bloke (just think of the obsession with musicals, Disney, and cheesy pop!) but James? Woah, he puts me to shame! He even ‘enjoys cooking, and nice evening strolls’ - as he says in his own words. *shudders at the thought*
Then, there’s Charles… or Charlie, as he begs to be called - he’s the rebel of the family. He’s 11, and already heavily into surf scene (despite the fact that there's NO beaches round 'ere! lol). Instead of playing violin, and cello, like his older brothers - he plays bass guitar, ands wears labels like O'neill and Rip Curl . I think he’s had his skateboard surgically attached to his feet.
He’s just dyed his hair shocking purple, something which he tells me his mother has disowned him for. But Charlie’s well tidy, compared to the others. He wont use my CD collection as frisbee’s, he’ll just riffle through, and moan that I’ve ‘sold out’ and not got enough ‘nirvana’ for his liking. He’s the only one I can tolerate.
And last, but certainly not least *gulps* - there’s Johnny and Emily - the seven year old demons twins. Obviously the sufferers of an undiagnosed case of ADHD, or maybe even Psycopathy… I just can’t tell. They’re loud, they’re cheeky, they’re more than I can handle. I once had to baby sit them, for six hours… during which time, they attempted to shave my cat, and make a voodoo doll from a stick of French loaf, before taking me hostage in the bathroom. Yeah - it’s a long story.
Their mothers no better, she’s all “ooo, children! Keep away from him!" *points at me* , "He went to drama school! And had fourteen kids by the time he was 16! Keep away!!!”
O.k, so she doesn’t say that - but you can tell she’s thinking it - every time she grimaces at me, with that up turned nose. Anita, once jokingly told her that I’d been sent to stage school, because the local Comprehensive had expelled me. Course that’s not true - I’ve never done anything rebellious in my life. *sighs* lol. But Susan doesn’t know that. the wench! *lol* She constantly watches me to make sure I don’t do anything crazy like mug her - and always hints that ‘growing up in the intercity’; I must be on drugs. ha! She’s sooo lucky I gots a sense of humour! Hehe.
I wont even bother mentioning her husband Paul; who’s idea of before-breakfast fun is fox-hunting on a Sunday morning, and who’s stupid idea it was to name all four of their sons after Kings of England - Says everything about him that; the pompous git! hahaha
He always tries to make conversation with me, and thinks he can pass himself off as ‘one of the lads’ - if he tells me stupid jokes which are meant to be dirty, and starts swearing profoundly the second his wife’s out of the room (cos she’d give him a reason to swear, if she heard! *Lol*).
I can see my little sister, Chloe following in their footsteps. Oh good God - the same blood runs through her curse’d veins! *throws himself to his knee’s* She’s doomed! ... I'm doomed! We're all doomed!
Anyways - why am I telling you all this?! Why am I giving you the life story of my step mothers family?! Why!?
Well - these people, are staying at my house for the next week, while their mansion get’s reroofed or something stupid like that. Yes - that means seven days of torture, frizbee throwing, shelve scaling, cat shaving, hostage taking and Ryan Beating - so I just wanted you to be fully aware, of the murder suspsects; when I'm found dead, from a nervous breakdown in the next couple of days!!! *lol*
I decided I’d make my time left on earth, easier, by imagining that I am Harry Potter, and they are the Dursleys. *nods* LOL! I always do that - imagine situations, to make life seem more fun. :-s - But something tells me, that no amount of imagination is gonna help me get through this one!!! *gulps*
Send me some luck;
ry xxx
*Something I wrote over on Bloop ; dated February 17th 2004 - hope ya enjoyed! *winks* lol. *
But obviously my quality time wasnt meant to be, because, yesterday night, as I setted down in front of my TV, grabbed my big bag of popcorn, and started flicking through the channels; I was interrupted.
“Ryan!? Ryan! Ryan?! Can we come in your room!? Can we? Can we? Can we!?” - and before I even so much as had a chance to answer, they’ve bulldozed down the door, pushed me out the way and started a jumping competition on my bed.
“Don’t you dare touch my CD’s!!” too late, they’re being used for Frisbee practice.
“Get off my keyboard! It really doesn’t like being banged like that!!” Oops. They’re banging it even harder.
“My fridge was not made for you to climb inside! Stop kicking my cushions!!! Where the hell have you five come from!?”
“Auntie Anita said we were allowed to come and play in your room.” They all chanted in satanic unison.
“Well Auntie Anita can go f**k herself!!” I didn’t actually say that… cos if I had, the stampede of five little darlings would have run off to their Fuhrer ‘auntie Anita’ to tell her exactly what I’d said (with added exaggerations of “Ryan said he wants you dead!” and “he tried to sell us over E-bay to perverts!!!”) , and my death warrant would be signed. But hey - I thought it ... more than once! *lol*
Ah. Meet my step mothers, older sisters children. The five anti-christs.
Shoot the lot of them, is what I say. Ha! :-p
There's five of them. five less when I get my hands on 'em! lol! And they all live in a big house mansion in Kent, enjoy a spot of croquet on weekends, and speak like fannies - yet have the cheek to think its me with the funny accent! “Oh, william - doesn’t Ryan sound common when he talks? How quaint!”
“Yeah, well least I don’t talk from my arse!”
“Goodness. He’s swearing!”
“I swear you’re gonna die!!!”
They’re all so posh. Freakin’ Upper classes. The French had the right idea when they had a revolution, and decided to guillotine the bastads. That must have been a bloody good laugh. *lol*
I tend to dislike really posh people In general. Not being stereotypical here - just basing my feelings on a lifetime of being subjected to the gits. *lol* - I remember, when I was about eight years old - my dad sent me to boarding school for a couple of terms semesters, because his work involved a lot of travelling. The place was full of really posh kids, all swanning about in their Versace uniforms. I learnt to despise them even then - back when they boycotted my new kids on the block album, in favour of some Mozart. (Ooo New kids on the block! Anyone remember them!? Wow the memories! Hahaha)
Dad doesn’t understand my hate for Anita’s relations. “Oh, but Ryan - they’re such nice kids. Why don’t you just give them a chance?”
“Give them a chance? A chance to kill me!? A chance to give me a nervous breakdown!? I think not!”
“Sure they’re not that bad…”
“C’mon… they’re the terrorists of the future!”
“They speak so well, too. I wish I’d sent you to elocution lessons.”
I grimaced. My accent appears to be the shame of the family - dad doesn’t like me talking to his friends from work - my enunciation is too ‘working class’, which they all find hilariously amusing, - “By Jove David! You’re son speaks like he’s walked straight out of ‘0liver!’ - I thought they only speak like that in Eastenders! Do you know any cockney rhyming slang, Boy?”
And I’m sat irritatetedly twiddling my thumbs, which leads them to think I'm also some backwards case. (they're probably right! hehe)
But anyway - Anita's four nephews, and her niece (She’s got more… oh yes, there’s more… but they’re the children of her other sisters. *gulps* lol!) Took it upon themselves to burst into my once tidy room, and start an orgy riot.
Let me introduce them - There’s William. James. Charles. John and Emily.
Now, William - he’s fifteen years old, and built like a brick shit-house. As dense as one to. Honestly, he’s about 6 foot four, with muscles on his eyelids, and arms like tree trunks. I remember when I first met him- I was 13, and he was almost 10. He was bigger than me then, and he’s bigger than me now. A fact he’ll never let me forget. *sighs* Williams been playing rugby since he was born (no exaggeration! Lol) and he’s tipped to play for England someday. His love for the sport Is shown, by his constant fixation, with putting me into a head-lock, and flipping me over his shoulders, every five minutes or so - just to prove he can.
Next, there’s James, or ‘Jamie’; going on 14. Looks older than me already. He has one of those ‘amusing’ quiffs in his hair, and he’s sooo public school, that its wrong - he’s also the spitting image of Prince William. He says things like, “Bravoo chaps. Jolly Good!” When most guys his age, would say, “F**in’ ‘ell mun! Dat was well wicked!”
He likes polo matches, and knitted jumpers. I think he dreams of becoming the first ever homosexual British Prime Minister. You see, I can be extremely camp for a straight bloke (just think of the obsession with musicals, Disney, and cheesy pop!) but James? Woah, he puts me to shame! He even ‘enjoys cooking, and nice evening strolls’ - as he says in his own words. *shudders at the thought*
Then, there’s Charles… or Charlie, as he begs to be called - he’s the rebel of the family. He’s 11, and already heavily into surf scene (despite the fact that there's NO beaches round 'ere! lol). Instead of playing violin, and cello, like his older brothers - he plays bass guitar, ands wears labels like O'neill and Rip Curl . I think he’s had his skateboard surgically attached to his feet.
He’s just dyed his hair shocking purple, something which he tells me his mother has disowned him for. But Charlie’s well tidy, compared to the others. He wont use my CD collection as frisbee’s, he’ll just riffle through, and moan that I’ve ‘sold out’ and not got enough ‘nirvana’ for his liking. He’s the only one I can tolerate.
And last, but certainly not least *gulps* - there’s Johnny and Emily - the seven year old demons twins. Obviously the sufferers of an undiagnosed case of ADHD, or maybe even Psycopathy… I just can’t tell. They’re loud, they’re cheeky, they’re more than I can handle. I once had to baby sit them, for six hours… during which time, they attempted to shave my cat, and make a voodoo doll from a stick of French loaf, before taking me hostage in the bathroom. Yeah - it’s a long story.
Their mothers no better, she’s all “ooo, children! Keep away from him!" *points at me* , "He went to drama school! And had fourteen kids by the time he was 16! Keep away!!!”
O.k, so she doesn’t say that - but you can tell she’s thinking it - every time she grimaces at me, with that up turned nose. Anita, once jokingly told her that I’d been sent to stage school, because the local Comprehensive had expelled me. Course that’s not true - I’ve never done anything rebellious in my life. *sighs* lol. But Susan doesn’t know that. the wench! *lol* She constantly watches me to make sure I don’t do anything crazy like mug her - and always hints that ‘growing up in the intercity’; I must be on drugs. ha! She’s sooo lucky I gots a sense of humour! Hehe.
I wont even bother mentioning her husband Paul; who’s idea of before-breakfast fun is fox-hunting on a Sunday morning, and who’s stupid idea it was to name all four of their sons after Kings of England - Says everything about him that; the pompous git! hahaha
He always tries to make conversation with me, and thinks he can pass himself off as ‘one of the lads’ - if he tells me stupid jokes which are meant to be dirty, and starts swearing profoundly the second his wife’s out of the room (cos she’d give him a reason to swear, if she heard! *Lol*).
I can see my little sister, Chloe following in their footsteps. Oh good God - the same blood runs through her curse’d veins! *throws himself to his knee’s* She’s doomed! ... I'm doomed! We're all doomed!
Anyways - why am I telling you all this?! Why am I giving you the life story of my step mothers family?! Why!?
Well - these people, are staying at my house for the next week, while their mansion get’s reroofed or something stupid like that. Yes - that means seven days of torture, frizbee throwing, shelve scaling, cat shaving, hostage taking and Ryan Beating - so I just wanted you to be fully aware, of the murder suspsects; when I'm found dead, from a nervous breakdown in the next couple of days!!! *lol*
I decided I’d make my time left on earth, easier, by imagining that I am Harry Potter, and they are the Dursleys. *nods* LOL! I always do that - imagine situations, to make life seem more fun. :-s - But something tells me, that no amount of imagination is gonna help me get through this one!!! *gulps*
Send me some luck;
ry xxx
*Something I wrote over on Bloop ; dated February 17th 2004 - hope ya enjoyed! *winks* lol. *