So, on the seventh day, Goth rested. Or took time off. Or got fed up inventing silly things like Sweden, porcupines and that fluffy stuff, oh yeah, candy floss. I have seven days, then it's back to reality with a resoundingly large bump. In 4 days, I must travel to UKky place to pay homage to my son - he's worth the agony I have to put up with just to see him. Then back here (the following day), pack my suitcase and then, after some cuddly stuff, away to the land of mayonnaise. This Omni thingy is harder than it sounds (oo er missus).
I thought the whole point of being a Goth was that you could send thunderbolts raining from the sky or speed around on chariots - oh shite, missed that bit in the small print. It's just under the 'will carry out duties in a respectful manner and not use x-ray vision to see through angels dresses'.
In the meantime though - PARTY!!! Not really, I just liked how it sounded. A bit loud, a bit dangerous, a bit (should we get some of those fluffy hats for everyone?). This is why Goths don't have parties. Way too busy up Mount Olympus inventing stupid games for mere mortals to fluff up. I mean, Chelski, I could (no, I couldn't - that's in the small print also - 'thou shalt not pick on johnny foreigner - even when he does visit Old Trafford with his little band of muppets').
So, got to be prepared. Got to be ready. Got to be...well, I don't actually - I am a Goth after all. Yikes, just remembered - have to deal with the ex Mrs Goth. Now that is scary. She could turn me into a pillar of salt, or a chaffinch or just do that bursting out crying thing.
I shall have to recruit the help of my favourite little evil helper, Mr Oz. If the writing messages that people can justify killing for by playing the record backwards doesn't work, Mrs Oz will step in and scare the sh1t out of everyone including Mr Oz. 'Oh bloody hell Sharon - now what?'.
LBOC -> "It's hard to feel tense when you're learning something you want to know. And you can learn from the most unlikely places" - yeah, and it's even harder to learn when you're dead you sanctimonious twat.
BBoM -> "Jump into a deep puddle for no reason, eat some leaves and then walk in an eccentric but dangerous fashion"