Hello friends and lovers. I bring tidings of goodwill + franky sense and mer cat. As I sit here at 2:37 AM on Tuesday 27th December 2005 I find myself bored out of my brains yet unwilling to sleep. So instead I have decided to write a tale. This will be a glorious tale full of bravery and depravity. Brace yourselves, for your hearts shall spontaneously combust at the tragic nature of this romantic action comedy horror noir drama thriller family western. I have not yet decided what it will be about, lets see where ye olde fingers take us. Ok. ______ Jason was an argonaut. Such were the facets of his indisposible pant; the crinkles and sheaves imbued with incantations fit only for the halls of a demon king. When the time came to change his pant, hours upon hours of focused thought and surreal chant were required in order to safely remove them from his grey decaying corpse of a body. His voice froze and shattered the very air the soundwaves traversed, hollow and torn by the years, an effort course and rough like the gravel upon which he tred. "Wayne, you fuck-wit, get these midgets out of my compound. What the hell are these little critters doing here?" he said, swaying around incredulously in order to gaze upon the little people scuttling around him, his encrusted joints no longer boasting the mobility of the standard quadribed. "Oh, they are soldiers from Midgland" Wayne replied from his perch up in a tree not but five hundred yards from Jason. "AHH, lower your voice, you just blew my eardrums from way over there, how the hell did you get up in that tree anyway?" With a million quick flicks of the wrist, like the wings of a fly, Wayne was by his side on the pathway in the Quearlen Abbey. "The usual way, Jason." He said with a grin. "Fair enough, by the way, reset your voice box volume back to minimum. King Lopus the 19th could hear you from Kuntonia as it is. Wait... is this blood seeping out of my ear? You piece of shit Wayne, look what you've done. You ruptured my godamn eardrum with your quadzillion decibel superpower." "Woah now, gimme a break, it's not myfault you have paper cups for inner ears, those flimsy styrofoam structures were bound to break any day now. Speaking of styrofoam cups, how about a coffee?" "Yea, alright," Jason said, dabbing at his ears. "Quadruple expresso thanks. It's kinda strange isn't it, that I can hear you right now after you just blew my brain apart with your Hiroshima voice. Do not do that shit again." "Whatever, asshole. Be right back with that coffee" 0.025 seconds later Wayne returned with two Starbucks cups, full of the steaming hot gourmet elixer of the gods. He handed Jason his quadruple expresso. "Thanks, Wayne. Hey I've got a question for ya" "Shoot" Jason took a sip and then yelped like a kelpie as it singed his tongue. "Ouch, yea the question was, where the hell is this story going?" "What story?" "This one" "You call this a story? Are you sure that's not your brains coming out of your ears. Story, don't make me laugh." "Actually it's a possibility, I do have a fairly impressive headache. Yeah maybe your right. Let's quit while we are behind and go to bed. It's 2:56 and we have to pack our bags to go to Adelaide tommorow!" "Yay, that sounds like an awesome plan. Let's do it! Here Jason... " Wayne hands him a skipping rope. "Take this, and let it become a part of you. Be one with the rope Jason, grasp the handles like they were the arms of your girlfriend." "But I don't have a girlfriend" "Whatever, so the skipping rope is your godamn girlfriend. Now unfurl it, and let us ride like cowboys into the desert. You be Clint Eastwood and I'll be John Wayne. Hah - John WAYNE. Hah-hah-hah" "Shutup Wayne. Keep your fucking rope. I'm going inside." "What? You can't go inside, GET BACK HERE DIPSHIT. GET BACK HERE AND PICK UP THIS ROPE. YOUR GOING TO SKIP GODAMMIT, YOUR GOING TO SKIP RIGHT HERE AND NOW. GET BACK HERE YOU PIECE OF CRAP." "Fuck you Wayne, eat shit and die." "I'LL EAT SHIT AND DIE WHEN YOU COME BACK HERE AND SKIP LIKE CLINT EASTWOOD." At that Jason looked back and walked over to the rope. He picked it up and started skipping, and then started going in circles mumbling "Mmmhhheh" and other Clint Eastwood vocal trademarks. Wayne proceeded to eat shit, and then he died. Upon his death Jason found himself uncontrollably upset, and tears rained throughout the kingdom. The rivers swelled and the dams blew, flooding the lands and ultimately exterminating the midgets Jason had been so adament about removing from his compound. But did this little victory over the midgets quel his grief over his fallen comrade? Had Wayne deserved to eat shit and die? Tune in next century for my great great grandsons next entry into this epic tale of conflicted comradery.