Herein there’s more randomness with special guest start Jack Lockhard as Rev. Oslo Netfetter. Just a couple things this time. I fear that much of my Bennie work is lost to the ages but hey, it’s always fun to see the weird and mildly angry stuff I wrote in my younger days.
The Further Adventures of Oslo and Pete
The following is an online message exchange between controversial reverend Oslo Netfetter, famed for his fire and brimstone ministrations and tendency towards not wearing pants and deceased killer Peter Anders, who was last seen telling tall tales in the novel A Shadow Over Ever.
Dear Oslo Nutbiscuit,
I hope that the world hasn’t passed you by. It ain’t easy bein’ a caveman in a world of, uh, um, other, uh, things not cave-man-ey.
Hey Pete Anderslooth, ya rotty ol’ gourdhead. How things been hangin’ on yer side of Cemetary Earth?
Well, as it turns out bein’ dead ain’t bad. Ya get to make your own hours, you get a lot of goobermint assistantitis and you can write your biogroograffy and ghost write it yourself. And how has life been for you old Pastor Possum Pants?
None too shabby. Been tendin’ to the flock a bit too much lately, if you get what I’m sayin’…but it’s all in the name o’ The Good Lawd…just doin’ the work he’s laid out fer me.
Oh, I see how it is, been cleanin’ the stables and not your gun, eh? Well, I am glad they has that gun control because brother, your gun goes off in them little altar fella’s faces a lot from what the papers say.
Them’s lies, I tell ya. I ain’t no cathaholic peterfile! I’s got my own thing going with a few of my prettier one’s…but they all legal…I think. Now that you had to go and bring up guns, I’m sick of hearing about all this gun control nonsense. If I want a weapon that shoots a thousand deadly little metal skeeters a second, buy The Lawd I have a right to own that damn beautiful killin’ stick.
Typical religious boob, always leanin’ on a gun ’cause ya ain’t gots no dick. Well, I never needed no gun. I mean, sure, sure, I had a lot but that was for, uh, collectibility. They was uh, you know, worth money. Naw, I use my lethal weapons, my Kung Fu feets. The last thing the world needs is more jackasses with guns pretendin’ to be shootin’ cowboys and goin’ out lookin’ for these so-called ‘bad guys’.
The last thing the world needs is yo feets stinkin’ up the place…when’s the last time you washed them maggoty appendages anyhoo? Guns is the way of the Lawd, by Gawd. If Jesubus didn’t mean us to have guns, he wouldn’t have let all those squinty eyed folks discover gunpowder all those blessed years ago. As for the bad guys, we’re all bad guys nowerdays…everybody’s pissed off somebody at one time or ‘nother. Now I’m not sayin’ we all deserve to get shot…shit…what was I sayin’? Aw, hell, you makin’ fun of my manhood? At least I got some manhood, all you gots a rotty little stumplin’. And since I ain’t one of them candelabra wershippers, I really got a hood on mines.
I think you forget that me and the big dood, or gal, whatever it is these days, and I are pretty close. I’ll be sure to remind them of all them catalogs you has hidin’ under your bunk bed. What was they called – Farmer’s Balls and Sacks? That doesn’t sound very, uh, ‘Godly’, my friend. But back to guns. You really think your guns will protect you against doods like me what knows how to use a pitchfork? Or some ninjas if they invade? Guns ain’t nothin’ but thinnin’ the herd of people like you, pal!
Pitchfork? You’d have 9 holes in ya before I could even smell ya…as fer Ninjas, well, we both know ain’t nobody fuckin’ with one o’ them fellers…but I ain’t seen one o’ them in a few years so I ain’t to worried none. My guns protect me from all those damn liberals that want dogs to marry and nutmeg to smoke, you know, those folks don’t know what true freedom is, they don’t know what my dear granpappy went and died fer. True, he weren’t in the great war, but he did got kilt by a soldier who’s daughter he was…er…em…teachin’. So I guess you could say he was a war casulty. Least he did fer somethin’ I guess.
Well, I guess there is one thing we can agree on, you are an ass. Whereas I don’t even has one no more. I tell ya though, I wish you had to get a license for shooting that mouth off all the time
You might not have an ass, but that don’t exclude you from bein’ one. You know what they say, takes one to…well, you know. Guess we both jus crankety ol fools. But I’m a crankety ol’ fool that’ll put twenty tons of metal in yer ass you mess with me. Ain’t but two things in this world I need…The Lawd’s words and the sound of a bullet tearin’ through heathens and One Direction fans. I always preferred that Cyrus chick if I gotta listen to crap music…plus she’s dang hot…shit make that three things. What’s say we wrap this up, ol’ frenemy…I think I’m gonna need a little private time.
I need you to have private time too. Private sleepy bear time in the ground. But I suppose some day your rifle is bound to go off in your face some day. Farewell, sweet-fuck.
Web of Deceit –
Man, are we lazy or what. Geez. Anyway, after the grand old times I have had on the web of late I figured I would spend a couple minutes speaking of such things as amuses me. Haha.
I love e-mail. It’s hard not to love it. I have a few friends scattered from Brazil to Florida to all over Michigan and it is just too damn hard to write full-on letters to them all. And too expensive. But it is a tad too easy. I dunno how many friends I have lost due to the goddamn web and e-mail but it is more than I like. First, ya gotta understand that I hate confrontation. I hate it with a passion. Little ever seems to get accomplished other than someone gets their feelings hurt and it can do more damage than good. But I am a coward at heart. And I have to get it into my fat head that arguing, discussing things, especially when there is a problem, is natural and good. It is necessary. I think I lost two relationships because I didn’t want to deal with something when it came up. So as soon as there is some problem with a friend I first shut down, taking it personally when it might not be. I hate that, I have such terrible self-esteem and think I am such an asshole that I always take everything personally. So I will then either cut the friendship off immediately or take out my frustration on the person via e-mail. It’s like a letter in that you can say what you want, what you feel you need to say, and not be interrupted. Not have to deal with what they want to say. Basically have the floor to yourself. It is a really selfish and stupid way to handle a problem, and this is from someone that knows from first hand experience how lame it is. Because if you are really pissed you can just erase the reply the other person sends you and be done with it. And it is too fucking easy. Too easy to end a friendship, and in some cases a relationship, without actually talking things through. Working at making things right. I feel like such an asshole because it is so easy to get all pissed off and just fucking shoot off a stupid reply you may think better of later, and it’s too late.
Oh hey, I write books and such. Pop by my virtual bookstore and get you some.