Far, far away on planet Beastrapedus, the chief beast and head-torturer of earthlings  banged his gavel and brought the meeting to order. It was a glorious night, even for a planet that knew only night, for no self-respecting sun would ever shine on such a god-forsaken place such as this.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Beastrapedus", his voice boomed, "We have a problem and I thank you for attending this evening as our very lives and livelihoods are now seriously threatened, indeeed they're in the balance, due to the unforeseen actions of certain cretins there on planet earth."

The assemblage knew this to be right for the beast-generals had heard it from the captain-beasts whose time in the field with the absolute cream of temple-burners and eye-debuachers was showing an ever-diminishing body count of suicides, divorces and business failures. Even entries to mental-health and drug-rehab centres were falling, so surely alarm bells would ring.

The enraptured silence continued as the monsters in all their forms looked in awe toward the stage, for surely no expence had been spared in preparing the scene so all delegates would truly appreciate the gravity of the situation.

The curtains alone must have cost a bomb as they so beautifully depicted half-closed eyes so blood red as to have come from a rose garden only that morning. Tear ducts fully exposed blending so perfectly with the nasal discharge of a waterfall and the hems depicting so many bags of frozen peas - all thawed.

Behind chief-beast, obviously arranged by an expert, were their standard implements of torture  -  pokers glowing white and red hot, carved timber head-vices with fireworks on but one side, barbed wire and knitting needles in boiling oil, for such were the tools of their trade. Yet he remained quiet, serving only to heighten the enormity of his words.

"Beasts, monsters, torturers and tormentors, lend me your rears, for the earthlings have risen against us as never before and threaten not just our being, but the being of our children, their children, and our very raison detre'.

We had every advantage for so long in that no CHead had ever met another, but things are changing. We'd convinced each that he was unique and must suffer alone, which worked wonders on the madness front, but now they're linking up as a common front! I'm sure you've noticed!!

"In more primitive times they simply leapt off cliffs or had holes drilled in their temples by witch doctors. This was good and even during the age of religions we got them burned at the stake as blasphemers. This was even better but, gentlemen, times they are a-changing and I now call upon Octal Inferno, anal of secret police, to release a hither-to unknown report."

The light dimmed, flared to fleuroescence then dropped to almost darkness and all knew there'd be no good news to follow.

His Royal Ooziness arose, clad in dark robes against a dark back-drop, and spoke darkly.  "I address all beasts of greater or lesser stature. All monsters, dragons, imps and elves along with all who'd continue our grand tradition of evaporating human temples. We must continue!!

"Certain advances on planet earth have delayed and thwarted our plans but we've conquered them all so far. I know we all miss the days of sufferers being dunked in boiling oil for failing to renounce their personal devils but times move on. As more doctors became aware of this men-only condition, we gave it to a few select women and didn't that muck things up for a while. Then came Immitrex so we invented rebound headaches and we've even screwed their O2 therapy by making it so devilishly difficult to obtain, but what's happening now is unforeseen so we're brainstorming you instead of them. I now leave it it to my good friend Vlad of the Lighted Retina to explain what's required."

Never ever, not once in the history of planet Beastrapedus, had anyone actually admitted the existence of the Anal of Secret Police (though rumour ran rampant) but to now learn of Vlad had the rectum of every listener sucking nickels and dimes from the upholstery of their chairs.

"We know our enemy, and the enemy is ours!!" he screamed, as though his enema tube had been inserted 12 feet instead of 12 inches. "We have existed as a monsterhood through dividing so they fall, yet it's a brotherhood that's uniting against us and it's a beast. That beast has a leader and that leader has a name and that name is DJ!!"

All hell broke loose within the convention because, while they all knew secretly of this viper from the poisoned pits of the netherworld, until now no-one had ever spoken the name aloud.

DEEJ! If they'd blood in their veins it would have frozen, boiled or both for their sworn enemy was no longer a myth but a flesh and blood target to be anihalated with joy. The sheer exuberence of the audience would take years to clean up.

The beast master returned to the podium, if only to restore order, but everyone knew that war was only for the victors. "That's right," he boomed, "The abomination now has a name. You may speak that name or give it a number but such is our enemy and Sergeant-enslaver and sewer-rat second class, Vulcrania Horrendus will outline the modus operandi".

The stench of their happiness reached out to space as Vulcrania spoke. "Our enemy is the internet," he exuded fustily, "But we're taming it slowly. That dreaded and most hateable piece of human excreta, DJ, robbed us of our number one weapon by uniting CHeads in a common cause. We've retaliated by removing his CH and thus destroying his credibility as a leader.We've also infiltrated his site and installed high-class viruses such as Ali, CH-Tom and others more recent which are guaranteed to bring our nemisis to his knees, as does Mrs Deej though that isn't necessarily of our doing.

"On the subject of supporters, their ranks are closing and they're getting stronger all the time and the damage inflicted upon us is devastating. All and any suggestions welcome and with that depressing news I hand you back to chief beast." The combined expelled breath of the delegates would have melted a sinus-buster at 15 miles.

"So there you have it, demons. Our very existence is under threat unless and until we destroy the force that threatens us, the unification of CHeads as advocated and endorsed by ch.com and the perpetrator of its criminal conduct. DJ MUST DIE!!"

The curtains swung shut, the lights dimmed, a beautiful silence reigned as poisonous gasses poured from the ceiling and CH became a thing of the past.

That damn Deej, turning their fine wine to vinegar.  Drink up.



Fantastic!          :)

Well versed by the Larrikin Laureate.

Brian, with your permission I would like to post this on the Oz site.

Cheers
Barry

You're welcome, Barry. Like all my meagre scribblings their is no need for attribution as they belong to all who endure this dread disease.

Thank you Brian, that was a great read.  I never realized how really strange your mind can be, but a great writer you most certainly are!

Sandy

Brian,
That was one very cool read ;)

-Gregg in Las Vegas

Love, love, Love it!  You have impressive writing skills.

You need a blog Brian!

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ANOTHER delight Brian....were I not a clusterhead...I would have missed it...one door closes...another opens....

[smiley=bow.gif] [smiley=bow.gif] [smiley=bow.gif]

Best,

Jon

Bravo, Brian! Masterful writing.

I'd toast you with a tall, cold beer but the damned stuff gives me a headache. You'll have to do it for me.