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We found it in the field, grown over, grass and weeds trapping it down on the ground. It was small, round, grey, with glass black eyes, and it was still alive. Matty said that it looked a bit like Christ, up on his cross, but then Matty had always been an overly dramatic fellow with biblical leanings.

We stole a can of petrol from a backyard, climbing over the rotten, leaning fence, and sneaking up through the long grass to the back door. It was a quick grab, then back the way we came, and out into the field, with its rusting goal posts and playground set that'd been removed of anything resembling a seat.

No matter what TV told us about little grey men and what we should do, it never told us that they burn nicely. Petrol helps. Our little fellow screamed into the smoke, carrying it high into the heavens.

Least that's what Matty said.


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Jan. 22nd, 2003 04:22 am (UTC)
Ben, you're really trying to creep people out, aren't you?
Jan. 22nd, 2003 05:36 am (UTC)
beats me. i was just doodling (with words) before actually going off and doing some real writing.

fun though.

but you know, anything and everything for this place.
Jan. 22nd, 2003 05:59 pm (UTC)
The problem is:
Why are you trusting anything that Matty says?

After all, Matty is a well known agent of the DSIA. Which is a front, of course, for another organization entirely, which is a front for still another organization, which is a result of the multitangled layers caused by our modern disbelief in the simplicity of a rose, not that a rose was ever a simple flower.

(I think I was going for something else there.)

Jan. 22nd, 2003 07:05 pm (UTC)
You can't say nothing 'gainst Matty when you don't know him. A bit of biblical leaning may be Matty's problem, but he's me mate, and he stands by you doesn't matter.

Take for an example: Matty and me were snatchin' a 1974 Mazda that'd been all worked over. Dropped down, rotary put into the front, seats all smooth, cd player and speakers throughout. It was taking me a bit of time to work the lock, and Matty was standing in line with the front door, in case the fellow who owned it might pop out. I was about half way there when the fellow did indeed come out. He was a huge, black bearded, soap stained bastard who fitted into the doorway like... well, like the bloody door.

I was ready to run, Mazda or not. Matty though, he just stood shouted for me to hurry and leapt the fellow, beating him down with his skinny little fists.

The fucker was a brick, and beat the shit outta Matty. He came after me, and I kept the Mazda between him and me till Matty was up, and then the pair of us did a runner.

But what Matty did, that gives you trust, you know? He's has his quirks, but he's good. He ain't no double or snitch or gardner or whatever you're implying.
Jan. 23rd, 2003 05:45 am (UTC)
Re: Matty
You don't know Matty. Not really.

Jan. 23rd, 2003 04:05 pm (UTC)
Not this again. Ever since me and you moved in together, it's been nothing but Matty ain't your friend, you don't know Matty, and why is it he has all that money but isn't even on the dole. It's like you've this huge jealous streak, and I don't know what to say to you to make you see Matty for who he is, but this has gotta end.
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