* Bush has joined #Dicktatorz

P_u_t[in] sets mode: +o Bush

* 5ark0 has joined #Dicktatorz

* kleanton has joined #Dicktatorz

<kleanton> Hey room!

<kleanton> What's up?

* kleanton was kicked by P_u_t[in] (Not allwed here anymore)

* kleanton has joined #Dicktatorz

<kleanton> Vlad

<kleanton> After all I did for you

P_u_t[in] sets mode: +b 66.178.211.29

<kleanton> You have no shame?

* kleanton was kicked by P_u_t[in] (Banned!)

* kim_jong66 has joined #Dicktatorz

<kim_jong66> yoyo people

<Bush> kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim!!!

<kim_jong66> yoyo

<Bush> WUZAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

<kim_jong66> WUZZAAAAAAAAAAAA

<Bush> WAAZAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

<kim_jong66> WUZAAAAAA

* Pervez_Paki has joined #Dicktatorz

<kim_jong66> wuzzzzaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Pervez!!

<Pervez_Paki> man, I didn't do it.

<Bush> wuzzaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!1

<Bush> do wat/

<Bush> do wHat??

<Bush> do what?

<Pervez_Paki> I didn't do it man, i didn't.

<5ark0> my country can offer you exil

<5ark0> you just have to say you did it

<5ark0> then you get exil

<Pervez_Paki> I don't want no exile

<Pervez_Paki> I want to win fair elections man!

<P_u_t[in]> Fair elections?

<5ark0> mdr

<5ark0> we all know you did it

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P_u_t[in] sets mode: +o |4D3|\|

<Bush> WWWWWWWUUUUZZZZZZZZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA BEN!!!!

<|4D3|\|> wazaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa......!!!

<Bush> WUZZAA!!

<kim_jong66> ben, you did it? was it you?

<|4D3|\|> LOL

<|4D3|\|> No no, this time waznt me. Thought it was perv?

<Pervez_Paki> I tell you man, it wasn't me!

<Pervez_Paki> I mean, man, like I gave three days for mourning and shit

<Pervez_Paki> Man, it wasn't me I fucking promise

<|4D3|\|> LOL

<|4D3|\|> thn who did it?

<Pervez_Paki> I thought it was you?

<|4D3|\|> no

<5ark0> exil, exil! Come to my place!!

<5ark0> I bought a PSP

<5ark0> I have GTA on it

<5ark0> gf LOVES it!

<Bush> 5ark0 has a hoooot gffffff!

<5ark0> Yehhh.. hehehe... she's beautiful, non?

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<Bush> Shes hotttttttttttt

<5ark0> Have you had any chance with rice?

<5ark0> You tried the thing I told you?

<kim_jong66> I LOVE EATING RICE!!! HAHAAHHAHA!!

<5ark0> It is a Francais thing, they love it

<Bush> :(

<Bush> NOOO

<Bush> SHE DIDNT!!

* Bush sniffs

* kim_jong66 has quit IRC (Read error: Connection reset by peer)

<Pervez_Paki> Can we talk about my problem? I have a problem now

<Bush> resign1 resign! Pervez resign!

<5ark0> resignes, and I give you exil

<Bush> rezing!! Parvez is going to resign!

<P_u_t[in]> You need to be stronger than that. Cancel the elections.

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<P_u_t[in]> wb, Kim.

<kim_jong66> sry, got disc

<5ark0> resign, parvez, you’re screwed.

<Pervez_Paki> Man, maybe I should put off the elections?

<`el`fid`el> hey guys

* ROBERT has joined #Dicktatorz

<`el`fid`el> whats up?

<P_u_t[in]> Perv, if you don’t get a hold now, you never will.

<P_u_t[in]> You will end up life Afghanistan

<|4D3|\|> hey hey! Whats rong wiz Afghanistan!?!?

<`el`fid`el> I heard the news

<|4D3|\|> its a cool place

<|4D3|\|> cept for ze heat

<|4D3|\|> but zen who cares

<|4D3|\|> im in massachusetts rite now

<P_u_t[in]> Afghanistan has no economy, duh.

* Bush sniffs

<`el`fid`el> I heard the news

<Bush> is it because of meeee?

<Pervez_Paki> pretty bad eh, Fidel?

<`el`fid`el> yes; couldn’t believe it.

<Pervez_Paki> JUST LIKE ME! I tell you, it’s a shock!

<`el`fid`el> oh... I didn’t know you liked the Miami Dolphins...

<Pervez_Paki> huh?

<ROBERT> HEY ROOM

<`el`fid`el> yeah, they lost to the New England Patriots...

<Pervez_Paki> wtf, Do you live in a cave, Fid?

<`el`fid`el> I dont understand...

<|4D3|\|> zey killed benazir. she wuz hot. Pwns :(

<Pervez_Paki> they got her man, they got Bhutto!

<`el`fid`el> but who’s benazir

<|4D3|\|> opposition leader

<`el`fid`el> what does opposition mean/

<`el`fid`el> ?

<Bush> Hey I know I know I know! I know who did it!

* kim_jong66 has quit IRC (Read error: Connection reset by peer)

<5ark0> you know who did this thing?

<Bush> I knowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!

<Pervez_Paki> who did it man? Who did?

<Bush> It was pervezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!

<Pervez_Paki> I tell you it wasn’t me!!!!

<Bush> It’s what they are sayingggggg!!

<Pervez_Paki> who?

<Bush> tHEM!

<Pervez_Paki> Them who man?

<Bush> CIAAAA!!

<P_u_t[in]> Pfff, leave it. I’ll talk to the KGB about this.

<5ark0> I thought the KGB was closed?

<P_u_t[in]> LOL

<Bush> it was Pervez.

<Pervez_Paki> it wasn’t me! Man, you’re such a dick!

<ROBERT> WHY DID YOU KILL HER PERVEZ?

<P_u_t[in]> Robert, no caps please.

<ROBERT> I CANT ITS STUCK

<ROBERT> I CAN ONLY TYPE IN CAPS

<Pervez_Paki> Im telling you it was not me! I swear!

<P_u_t[in]> Pfff, never mind.

<ROBERT> IM SORRY MNA

<ROBERT> *MAN

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<kleanton> you all suck cock!

* kleanton has left #Dicktatorz

* P_u_t[in] changes topic to 'Parvez did it.'

<Pervez_Paki> FUCK YOU VLADIMIR! I did not do it!

<Bush> HAHAHAHAHA LOLLLLLL

<Bush> LOLLLLLLL

Letting it out

Some people drink. Others fight. Some manage to measure the disastrous effects it has on their lives, and just let go. He was a special case: he had tried to forget, but some things just stick to your skin so much that they become a part of you.

The long walk he had taken to the designated place had not calmed him down. He still wanted to see the pain, the blood. Even if it wasn't by his own hands, he needed to see it - death in all its brutality and insanity. Somehow, he knew that would calm him down.

He was at the right place. He could feel it - and smell it. The closer he got, the more the smell of fear and death filled his nostrils. The smell of flesh freshly cut out and blood was simply unbearable, yet he walked on. This was a place most people would prefer to forget - it was one of those places you knew existed, but never cared to think about. Slaughter houses were cursed, and so were the people working there.

There were no guards, no security - absolutely nobody to ask him who he was. This was one of the few rare places ordinary people don't visit.

The smell outside was nothing compared to what was happening inside - the interior looked grotesquely clean, yet he felt that every inch of the place reeked of death. He finally found a man standing in a corner, with what looked like a sledgehammer. He didn't have much time to grasp his surroundings as the man, in an almost mechanical motion raised his weapon and brought it down with full force on a cow's head. There was a brutal thump, and the cow hit the ground. There was no blood - there was no visible pain. Yet, death had come so quickly... His eyes were open wide, expecting the brutal scene to cure him. Nothing happened.

A long and most painful "Moooooo" resonated throughout the building.

Obviously, the cow was still alive and struggling to live. The man completely disregarded this fact and walked back to a small chair and table, where a bottle of rum was majestically contemplating the entire scene.

The cow let out another painful sound - which the man seemed to completely ignore. He took a quick shot and went back to grab his slaughter weapon.

- "Wait!"

The man turned around, and saw him.

- "Whatcha want, kid?" The man said.

There was a silence, followed by another painful cry by the cow.

- "Let me do it. I want to do it."

Another pause followed, and a smile appeared at the corner of the man's lips.

- "Sure, you can have a try. Come on, come closer. Well well well, you're not properly dressed for the occasion, but 'sokay I guess. Come on boy, hold the hammer."

As his hand clutched the deadly weapon, he felt the true weight of death. He felt within the hammer the sadistic desires of that man - he truly saw how bad human beings could get.

- "Alright sonny, aim for its head. Bring it down with all the muscle in your arms. Go on, you can do it."

He lifted the hammer above his head. He looked at the cow, who couldn't understand what was going on. It had lived a miserable life: permanently sequestrated, it had been forced to give its milk to its human masters every single day. And now that it couldn't do that anymore - they wanted her dead. It was a miserable life, a miserable existence, and he really hoped that one day, human beings would stop being so selfish.

He turned around, and swung the sledgehammer hard on the man's head. It was quick, simple and murderously effective. The man's head exploded with bits and pieces of his brain flying about.

There was an immense satisfaction as he felt the frustration and anger leave him.

The Web Revolution

The larger part of you (visitors) are going to simply cruise the net, day after day, downloading updated browsers and appreciating the beauty of the web while tapping on the vast amounts of organized information available. For some of you, however, the web is a never-ending pain of cross-browser issues involving Javascript, CSS and dysfunctional Div Tags. If life wasn't already hard for you, the introduction of AJAX didn't help at all. Everyday, there are now new issues, new cross-browser problems to fix, and WebServices to deal with.

A good, modern website usually contains/requires the following:

• HTML (or XHTML - most of us have switched to XHTML nowadays)
• CSS (2.0. CSS 3.0 is coming out pretty soon)
• JavaScript (Call it JScript, JavaScript or ECMAScript - we're currently at the third version of the language. The fourth one is coming soon.)
• AJAX (Asynchronous JavaScript And XML)
• Server-side code (Whatever language you're familiar with - JSP, ASP. PHP, ASP.net)
• Database code (SQL queries, stored procs - that depends on your DB)
• Flash (With Actionscript 2.0)
• Accompanying WebServices for JavaScript and/or Flash.
  

If you're planning to go into Web Design, think twice. With every single day, the web design business is getting more and more specialized. You can't be a jack of all trades. I, for example, can work my way around most of the technologies required for a website, but I won't ever match with someone who has worked closely with JavaScript and AJAX. Nor do my CSS skills match those of a talented web designer.

The problem with the web is that it has been built upon HTML. Years and years have gone by, but the core has remained the same. To "improve" the browsing experience, layers and layers of new technologies have been constructed on top of sad little HTML pages to make the web what it is today. It's like trying to make a car made out of wood, and running on steam fly. The amazing thing is that it IS flying.

I personally think that it's time to introduce a new format. Something totally different. On the client side, (X)HTML, CSS and ECMAScript need to be unified. And new graphical capabilities need to be added to browsers (which would cut out the need for Flash), as well as support for direct server communication (for streaming), while allowing the code to "mutate" and change itself. And yeah, pop-ups need to be killed.

On the server side, one single type of code should be able to generate the business logic, the presentation layer, query databases and at the same time deal with direct client communications to provide painless streaming functionality.

That's it! We have our requirements. Let's hope the W3C takes note of this blog post, and starts another one of their committee to study this case.

This Web Revolution of mine might not happen now... but I have high hopes for humanity, and the internet.

My first chain letter!

Have you ever wondered where chain letters came from? Well, after receiving numerous chain letters, I decided to create my own. Here goes:

CONGRATULATIONS!!!! SOMEBODY THOUGHT OF YOU AND FORWARDED YOU THIS BEAUTIFUL CHAIN MAIL! YOU'RE IN LUCK, BASTARD. READ ON.

This chain letter is for real. Well, you might as well ask Jean-Luc Dominique Emmanuel Coccio A., resident of Cité Barkly, Mauritius. He received this email in his inbox on the 7th of December 2006. He didn't read it. That was mainly because the computer he had was a stolen one, and there was no fucking way he'd put an internet connection on it. So he couldn't read it. And that's when weird shit started happening.

On the 17th of December, a few days before Christmas, a mad donkey barged into his house and raped him.
And as everybody knows, mad donkeys attacks are pretty frequent in Cité Barkly. He thought it was just bad luck. He still didn't check his email. Well, he couldn't anyway. A few days later, seven donkeys barged into his house and gang raped him. Still, he thought that was just pure coincidence.
On the 22nd of December, Jean-Luc Dominique was arrested for possesion. His inmate was Dr. Miko, a famous Mauritian sadist. Jean was basically in jail, and he really wished he had bought the pirated copies of Prison Break.
On the 23rd of December, he learned that there was an unread email in his inbox. Unfortunately, due to a lack of facilities in Mauritian prisons, he couldn't do anything about it.
On the 25th of December, his inmate, Dr. Miko, castrated Jean-Luc.

That was the end of him, and his sexual life.

See? You MUST pass this email on. You NEED to. I'm sure you don't want to be raped by a mad donkey with a disproportionate penis, do you? I treasure my asshole's virginity as much as you do. Think twice.

Now comes the magic part of this email - the one that will bring you luck and all that shit:

*
***
*****
***
*

See? It's a diamond! With little stars!
Yay!!
...
Right, get on to pass this email. Now.

AND REMEMBER! THE MAD DONKEY'S WATCHING YOU. EVERYTIME YOU TAKE A PISS. EVERYTIME YOU BRUSH YOUR TEETH. EVERYTIME YOU WATCH PORN. IT KNOWS. BEWARE, BITCHES.

Saying thanks to you, Ashwinee Ramchurn.

I wasn't the most popular kid back in school. And I'm not talking about high school. I was the king of nerds at high school (well, vice-king until some dude named Arvind left, heh). I'm talking about primary school here.

Primary school was hell for me. I was wearing those huge glasses - like, miniature TV sets right in front of my eyes. I wonder if that did me any good. I didn't have many friends at that time - just a few ones. But it wasn't hell because I was being bullied by the bad guys... or anything of the sort. It was hell because I was shy. And shit would incessantly happen to the shy guy who just wants to be invisible. And I'm talking about un-bloggeable shit. Man, primary school was hell.

Somehow, I managed to graduate first of my entire class. Which sent me to middle school (middle school and high school's the same stuff in here). And then shit stopped happening to me, and I started to gain some self-confidence.

But that's not the point. This whole story is about a girl. Her name's Ashwinee Ramchurn. I think I got the name right... I remember she moved to another school for some obscure reason. I wasn't really good buddies with her - she was just in my class. She wasn't the cute girl I had a crush on. She wasn't the school bully. Right now, I just... kind of remember her face really well. Her very serious face. I remember she was pretty good at Hindi. And at almost everything else.

Why her? Why are my memories of her so vivid? Why am I looking for her right now? That's funny actually. Okay, it's not funny. It's actually quite touching.

During the occasional shit that would occur to me, Ashwinee one day popped up, and offered me help. Somehow on that day, my lunch had fallen over and was lying sprawled across the classroom floor. And she just turned around, and offered me her lunch. She opened it up, and asked me if I would have it.

The genuine kindness that emanated from her - still a kid - at that very moment marked me. And until now, I haven't forgotten. I was shocked at that time... she was some kind of stranger to me - we had never really talked. But then, she was graciously offering me help without me asking... and... I guess that had never happened to me before. The authenticity of her gesture would probably remain unmatched by a stranger throughout my life.

I refused her lunch, mumbling something about it being okay. And until this day, I kinda regret I never really talked to her. When she changed school, I remember going back home and crying on my bed. I don't really know why. I guess I was sad. Well, kids cry when they're sad. It's funny though, when you're a kid, you are a slave to your emotions, even if you don't understand them yet.

It's been nearly five years since I started looking for her. And man, believe me, when it comes to finding someone on the internet, I'm pretty good at that. I followed most of the leads... but... nada. Nothing. From time to time, I visit social networking sites, hoping to meet her there. I'm not obsessed or anything... (well, maybe I am due to the fact that I can't find someone I'm looking for) but I just want to meet her once again. Just for a few minutes. And find out about the person she became.

And then say "thank you."
Because I think I forgot to do that back in primary school.

It's weird, how stuff from your early years can affect you.
Very weird.

Dominique & Cross-Browser Issues

Dominique says:
then what technically literate person would download and install safari?

Dominique says:
so i dont get it

Dominique says:
leave retarded people

Dominique says:
they have an excuse for doing anything

Dominique says:
"why did you do that?"

Dominique says:
"im retarded"

Dominique says:
"oh"

Why IRC sucks

[smiles2] :)
[CruelPanda] hello there
[CruelPanda] Hi, how are You?
[smiles2] I'm fine
[CruelPanda] and how are you?
[smiles2] well thanks
[smiles2] kim, 49, Michigan
[smiles2] divorced, 2 boys
[CruelPanda] hmm
[CruelPanda] I'm younger
[smiles2] yes
[CruelPanda] I'm 22 m, Mauritius
[smiles2] i was in Mauritius once, back when i was in the Navy
[CruelPanda] you were in the navy?
[smiles2] yes, i'm kind of odd
[smiles2] i use to be a Man, had a sex change after the divorce

-
* Added *!*bullxx@adsl-69-209-119-113.dsl.klmzmi.ameritech.net to ignore list
-

Be A Man!

Yukimura: I like white, you see.
Kyo: Red shows so well on it, doesn't it?

I am in absolute awe in front of the man that is Demon Eyes Kyo. His character is not exaggerated - he is no Rambo, yet his cold blood-thirsty look might make the latter crap his pants and run back home whining. I like Kyo not only because of the power and lack of fear that he possesses - but also because of his hidden feelings for Yuya.

This duality fascinates me. To be able to weild the sword, and to be able to truly love. I would be incapable of such a thing - I am either one, or the other. Although I admit that brandishing a Katana would be rather cool, I would never be able to hurt anyone with it - I wouldn't even be able to do it with a regular stick. I hope that will make the people on my hit list feel better.

I wish I were a warrior, fearless before my enemies, never taking a step backwards even when death would smile to me. I wish I could love, and have the courage to fight. I wish I had immense power to protect you, my beloved one.

Power should be granted only to those who can love, and not those who can fight.

The Lost Treasure

During my quest that would never seem to end, I traveled to many places. Under the sun and in the rain, I kept traveling, with one goal in my mind: find my lost treasure.

One day, tired and desperate, I settled in a lost garden, far, far away. There grew a little flower, singled out from the rest of the blooming plants. Its petals were partly hidden, but anybody could tell how beautiful it would become in the weeks to come.

As if warning me to keep moving, the rain suddenly came. The harsh rain, always reminding me how much my heart longed for my treasure, always forcing me to keep moving. The raindrops were pitilessly bending the little flower, and I thought that life could be harsh at times. I started to walk away, when I heard a voice:

"Please don't leave!"

I turned around and stared at the flower. Had it just spoken to me? I came closer, not sure of what I had heard.

"Please don't leave..."

Her spoken words sounded like a sob, barely audible amidst the raindrops crashing around us.

I was about to protest. I was about to explain that I needed to find my treasure. I wanted to say that I could not stay. I wanted to explain that life was hard... but then a sudden surge of guilt rushed through my heart. Could I be worthy of any treasure if I selfishly left an innocent flower to its death?

And so I sat down, my clothes already wet, and shielded the little flower with my bare hands. For days and days it rained. Raindrops seemed to come from all directions, but I kept my hands frozen over the little flower, protecting her from harm.

The rain was persistent - and was growing harder and harder as the days went by. It seemed to be angry to see me sitting in the same place. I had completely lost count of the days spent in the lost garden, with my arms stretched over my little flower.

One day, tired and sleepy, I closed my eyes for a moment, and tried to forget about my wet clothes. I tried to forget that the rain was here, and that instead warm rays of sunshine were piercing through the clouds, like a divine light bursting through the skies of heaven. I could almost feel it over my hair, I could feel it washing over my face. Birds were singing...

Singing?

I opened my eyes. Something was different. Birds were indeed singing. I was no longer wet - and the rain had disappeared. The garden looked different - it looked even more beautiful than the first time I saw it. Birds were singing, and butterflies were happily dancing around, as if the rain had never been. I felt glad, I felt glad for the other flowers, and for my little flower.

Some flowers seemed to have taken notice of me. Their red luscious petals were screaming for my attention - but I did not take notice. Instead, I started to look for my flower, the flower I had first known, the first flower that had talked to me.

I would never have recognized her, had she not shone every bit of her beauty towards me.

"Thank you," said the little flower.

Her words deeply touched me. I was very glad I had stayed. It felt more than satisfaction for a good action - it was deeper than that. I felt elated, and extremely proud of her.

The other flowers were curiously watching me smile. Suddenly, one of them exclaimed:

"Pick me, pick me! Pick mee!"

The other flowers in the garden did not seem to like it.

"No, don't pick her, pick me! See how beautiful my petals are!"
"No, pick me, pick me, it's me, I want to be your flower!"
"Oh just shut up, I deserve to be picked first! Pick ME!"

All the flowers in the garden seemed to be screaming at the same time. The argument had moved over from whom should be picked first to the beauty of their petals.

My little flower seemed to be quiet, very saddened by the attitude of her friends.

"Won't you pick one of them?" she whispered.
"No, little flower. I will not," I replied.
"Then will you pick me?" she inquired.
"No, little flower. I will not do that either"

Once again, I sat down, ignoring my legs' desire to stretch a little bit more. I smiled at my little flower, and I began to tell her about my treasure.

I had never told anybody about it. I might have said bits and pieces of my story to a few random people, but nobody had ever heard the whole story, from the beginning. I explained how I knew that there was a treasure waiting for me, somewhere. I told her about the fakes I had found, and I told her about my faith - I believed in my treasure, and I knew I would find it someday.

"Then, why don't you go and look for it?"

The question was so simple - yet it made me realize how much I had grown to like this little flower.

"Don't worry about me, little flower. I will stay with you a little bit longer."

The days went by, and we kept talking. I began to worry about her.

"Little flower, what happens to little flowers when they grow older?"

She greeted my question with a moment of silence.

"It depends on how much love they have had."

My little flower did not seem to like this topic of conversation, and we both stayed quiet.

I slept on the ground itself, and she would greet my mornings with her warm petals. Sometimes, at night, I would dream that my flower was gone - I dreamed that she was not there anymore, to greet me in the morning. I would wake up, and there she stood, her petals shining beautifully in the moonlight.

When I woke up on that day, the sun seemed to be shining brighter than usual, and the birds were singing even louder. I smiled and greeted my little flower, like I did every morning.

"Good morning, my beautiful fl..."

My flower was not there anymore.

I felt my heart break. A sudden rush of sadness came over me. I had not known myself to be so sensitive - and so ready to cry. My eyes were already watery with tears which were threatening to pour down to the ground at any moment. I looked on the left and on the right, but there was no little flower - not even a petal left to indicate what had happened. She could not have left - something must have happened to her.

There was somebody else in the garden. I feared for the worse - that person could have picked up my little flower - picked her up to put her in a vase, far away from me. Sadness was quickly replaced by anger.

"Show yourself! What did you do to my flower?"

From nowhere came a beautiful lady, walking with infinite grace, and wearing a dress that seemed to have been woven with petals. She walked towards me, without fear, innocent and fragile. All the flowers turned towards her, and even the birds seemed to be subjugated by her mesmerizing beauty.

"Do you not recognize me? I am your flower, the one you have protected from the rain, and loved so much..."

My heart skipped a beat. My little flower? I looked at her, at her beautiful hair which seemed so much like my little flower's petals.

"Little flower... my little flower, is it..."

My hand gently caressed her face, and I felt the same joy that I felt when I saw my little flower bloom. I came closer, and my lips brushed hers. We kissed - a long-awaited kiss that seemed to last for an eternity in the lost gardens.

I cried a lot on that day. I cried because my little flower had become so beautiful, and I cried even more for I knew I had finally found my treasure.

Behind The Mask

Somebody suggested the couch. Instantly, Patrick sent the cushions from the three-seater flying into the air. Nothing there either. The two seater and the corner sofa had already been investigated in vain. They were screwed.

- "Guys, we need to think."

Patrick, Sunny and Tommy rarely deployed any mental effort for whatsoever task. They could go for days without food - but not without cigarettes.

- "Dude, if I had to choose between a cig and a bitch on her fours, I think I'd go for the cig," said Tommy.

Nobody laughed. The three guys sat down on the stripped sofa's hard wood and started to explore the various possibilities available. The lack of money certainly posed a problem.

- "D'you think Jean-Claude would let us have a few ones on credit?"
- "Can't do that. We already owe him two packets dude."
- "Well, I could give it a shot. Lemme go and talk to him. I'll be right back."

At 1 o'clock, Jean-Claude was the only hope for those in need of cigarettes or instant noodles. His shop was on Flic-en-Flac's main road, fifteen minutes away. As Tommy closed the door and walked away, Patrick turned to Sunny with an evil grin on his face.

- "Dude, I have this idea, but it's like real gross you know."

Of the three guys, Patrick was the first one to explore evil possibilities. His plans rarely failed, but usually landed them in trouble a few days later.

- "Can that be worse than the time you stole Shampoo from the Spar supermarket and got caught?"
- "Nah, nah, nothing like that."
- "Spill it dude."

Patrick took in a huge breath. He always did that before explaining extremely evil schemes.

- "We can get a free pack of twenty and a huge bottle of whisky for free, but I think Tommy won't like it."
- "Like, get it right now?"
- "Ya dude, I know a fuck-sure way."
- "We're not going to rob Jean-Claude's, are we? Coz I doubt he'd let us have anything on credit after that."
- "Nah, nah, nothing like that."
- "Are we going to land into trouble?"
- "Yeah, if we screw it up, maybe."
- "Go on, I wanna know."

Patrick folded his arms.

- "D'you remember Roy?"
- "The tramp? That moron died last week dude."
- "Yeah, that's what I'm saying."

Sunny's expression brightened.

- "Shit, you know where he hid his stuff?"
- "Nah, nah, nothing like that."
- "What is it then?"
- "Turned out that his family felt bad about kicking him out of the house and all. They sent him off to the other world with a pack of twenty and bottle of whisky in his coffin."
- "What the fuck man?"
- "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about."
- "Fuck you! You're crazy!"
- "T'was Johnny Walker, the whisky. The black one. In the coffin."

A silence suddenly fell in the room, like a curtain closing after the first act. For Sunny, "Black Johnny Walker" was indeed a strong point, but "coffin" represented an appropriate counter-argument.

An unsuspecting Tommy popped into the room a few minutes later. He stood at the door with a sad look on his face.

- "Guys, bad news. Jean-Claude says we gotta pay him for the two packets we already owe him and..."
- "Nah, never mind about that," said Patrick.
- "We have a plan," explained Sunny.
- "Wow, great guys, I was feeling like we'd never see the end of this."
- "You might not like it though," Patrick announced, while throwing inquisitive looks at Sunny.
- "You tits, I'd do anything to get my hands on a cigarette right now," said a grinning Tommy.
- "That's good news 'cause we're going to dig up a grave," said Sunny in a matter-of-fact voice.

Tommy laughed for a few seconds before getting back to serious mode.

- "No shit, guys, what's the plan?"
- "We're going to dig Roy up, coz there's a pack of cigarettes and a Black Johnny Walker in his coffin."

Tommy's stood frozen, unsure of whether his best friends were serious or not. Patrick got up and disappeared into the kitchen.

- "What? You serious?"
- "Yeah dude, we're going for it," said Sunny.
- "Are you even sure there are cigarettes in his coffin? What if we get caught? Isn't there a cemetary guardian or something? What the fuck guys? How are we going to do that?"
- "Don't worry man, we're gonna be just fine. It's going to work, really," Sunny said in the most convincing tone he could find.

Tommy didn't sound convinced at all. He had his hands on his waist, and looked like he was about to go nuts.

- "Are you fucking out of your minds? I'm not digging Roy up, what the fuck? If we get caught..."
- "That's why you'll stand guard. Stop being a bitch Tommy."

Patrick had reappeared, holding a rope and two shovels.

Flic-en-Flac is a happy town, with vividly-coloured buildings and illuminated hotels. Waiters smile at you when they serve your food, and beautiful bar-tenders always wink when rich, drunk old men ask them out. However, beneath the smiling masks of all happy places lies human sadness, and sometimes lurking evil.

Evil which our three protagonists had already engaged in as the three of them stared at Roy's grave.

- "Guys, I can't believe we're doing this. This is so fucked up."
- "Shut up, Tommy and stand guard. Just whistle if somebody comes round."

Tommy didn't protest at Patrick's command and walked away. His two friends began digging without any idea of how it would all turn out. Fortunately for them, the grass did not seem to pose a big problem on Flic-en-Flac's sandy cemetery ground. A pale moon guided their sweating arms, the both of them looking like mysterious dark demons digging up a long-lost treasure.

Sunny's shovel finally hit wood. It was Roy.

To be continued...

The Life of Mrs. Toussaint

The past 70 years of her life had been reasonably peaceful. She now lived alone in her own house, had satellite TV, fed her cat everyday and tried to minimize her daily amount of gossip. Mrs Toussaint was, after all, a God-fearing woman who went to church every Sunday. She would usually nod while sweeping her yard - yes, it's peaceful in here.

Things changed ever since her new neighbours moved in.

She now knew what Finnish metal music sounded like. Her everyday sweeping came with techno, and late-night shows ruined by un-subbed japanese anime. She might also have overheard a few porns or two, involving more than two persons at once, but her mind had already blocked those out.

Yes, beeches, I'm in Quatre-Bornes and back to blogging!

Sayonara Mec

Mec, you bastard, I never thought I'd have to dedicate a post to you. It's been months since I posted anything on my blog, but today I thought I should.

I lost count of the number of times we were drunk together. Drinking never seemed to be what you did best. You were always out well before us, and we'd take you back home. You always managed to say a few words of thanks, before passing out again. The following day, you'd be there, by the beach, smiling.

I never really found anything bad with you. You should be awarded Flic-en-Flac's nicest guy. It was fun when you were around, even if you never really said much. You just smiled. And sometimes you'd laugh at silly jokes. It's weird but I never heard you say anything bad against anyone.

I took that pic of you during the good days. D'you remember that day, Mec? We all spent the whole of Saturday together, and even if we got kicked off Ahmed's chairs afterwards, we were still laughing. The next day, you were telling me about your girlfriend and why she left you. I'm sorry about her mec. She knows what she missed, I'm sure about that.

Mec, the good days are gone man. They won't ever come back. Mec, you died, and the good days are gone. You kicked the bucket at the age of 26. Mec you knew, didn't you? That's why you were getting quieter, day after day? And that picture, how could I know it would be the last picture of you? I could never know Mec. Had I known, I'd never have left your bedside last time. I'd talk to you, made you laugh a little bit more.

Mec, I miss you, it's bad.