Sunday, January 10, 2010

I Promise Not to Commit Any Acts of Violence, Physical or Otherwise

I entered the throne room of the Tyrant King of The Viking Demon-Slayers of the North content with the fact that the two guards were now missing most, if not all of their major organs. As I entered the Tyrant King looked up from devouring his grilled dragon ribs. He looked up and yelled some Norwegian gibberish at me. Evidently the doors behind me did not find this to be gibberish as they closed soon after he yelled this. The King then proceeded to throw his table aside, get up and take an axe the size of myself off the wall behind me. He yelled again in his crazy language which he seemed to be quite fond of and then charged at me, axe ready to swing at me. I dodged then rolled, stood up, unsheathed my sword then said "Come get me you Cock-Burgling Ham-Doctor".

I feigned right, he dodged left, nicking and scratching each other here and there, no serious wounds. He held his axe high and swung it down at me, I dodged backwards, not fast enough, it cut clean through my black suit jacket and shirt/tie combination. "Bitch!", I cried "I liked that shirt/tie combination!", he merely snarled back at me, I began to doubt whether he could understand what I said, which was annoying as I did like the insult I gave him. We fought more still nicking each other causing minor cuts mainly on our hands and lower arms. But then, I was fooled. He raised his axe as if to swing down so swiftly stepped back, he swings down then halfway through turns his axe the wrong way. He looks at me grinning like a mad man on cocaine, sweat dripping from his beard which became sideburns, he was a man's man alright. That being said, he was a man's man that I wanted dead, or at least incapable of any physical movement.  He then lunges with the end of the axe, missing it's target but still going clean through suit pants and right leg. I collapsed instantly.

The King picked me up by the scruff of my broken collar. Laughing maniacally, we stared into each others eyes, there was almost a sense of respect between us, two manly men, running from a dark past with a taste for dragons. He spoke more of his crazy mouth-words, and prepared to kill me with his axe, as he rose it above his head, i pulled out my .600 Taurus Raging Bull. I put it too his lower jaw screamed "Contemporise Bitch!" and fired.

He dropped me and then he fell back, presumably dead. I dragged my self over to him and remembering Rule #2 fired another shot, right betwixt his eyes. The Tyrant King of the Viking Demon-Slayers of the North was dead. I looked down at the hole in my leg "Shit" i thought out loud, "that's going to need some bionic transplant" the blood was running down my leg. Crimson Pouring From My Leg-Hole.

I began to think, is this the same colour that everyone is seeing. Do we all see colours the same? It's an old question I knew that. A knew thought came into my head, there is no way to possibly ever tell if we see things differently. This is because we are all told the names of the colours regardless of what we see. Someone may see my blood as the colour I call purple, but they would still call it red because of what they were taught at school. It is the names we give them that make this question so impossible. And we can never be certain, this makes it worse. Strange thoughts begun in my head, what if no one sees the same colours in the entire world? I may be the only one seeing these colours come from my leg, hell even the King might've seen it differently. I then realised that it would be exaclty like contrasting colours on the computer, or just changing them with paint. It then dawned on me that it doesn't really matter in the end, and that as long as we are seeing colours we are seeing this world, maybe not how it is, but our site is not hindered.

I then remembered I was in the Throne Room of a dead King of the Viking Demon-Slayers of the North.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cracked eggs, dead birds
Scream as they fight for life
I can feel death can see it's beady eyes
All these things into fruition
All these things we'll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out again.

2 comments:

  1. Crimson Pouring From My Leg-Hole?

    ...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Admittedly a strange change of topic, yet enjoyed.

    ReplyDelete