So another isolated island of utopia between the oceans of the week draws to a close.
What a load of pretentious shite.
The enclave that is the 8th floor appears to have developed some enemies.
As part of the 8th floor contingent myself I'm beginning to become slightly obsessed by this.
Firstly lots of food went missing.Bread, pizzas,cheese, shallots, cosmic dust from saturn, that sort of thing.
Then we were subject to a latenight viscious and entirely unprovoked condiment attack. It was like Tarantino had filmed reservoir dogs in a kitchen in the suburbs of Amsterdam using sauce, no actors and a complete lack of dialogue.
When I was empowered by Fink brau yesterday I decided to hide in the kitchen and wait in order to catch our nemesis with crimson mitts.
I took a seat on the sofa next to the bear.
'Whats up?' I asked him.
No reply.Bear was keeping schtum.
'come on', I said, 'Don't be like that'.
The bear sat there, with that huge smirk on his face like he was laughing at me.
I proved to him that I too, could play the silent game.
In the event I soon quickly tired of my vigilante ways and the conversation simply wasn't good enough.Never try and talk to a three foot inanimate bear called Harold when youre motivation is wavering.
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3 comments:
Lots of Junkies around.You can smell it in the elevator.
Taking all the three-euro-cheese and Kebab.
Something has to be done.
The person with more likely enemies in our floor is Fabio... He is the troublemaker and the loudest person in the world!
But I still think that the kitchen incidents were a effect of the things we did in the past (you know what!).
however, there r certain occasions craving for comfy convies with bears of unknown origin!
see `its all gone pete tong` and u so know what i mean.
kairi
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