“But surely fellow Olympians . . .” he says “But surely this is just chasing shadows, surely this is just the old Stones/Beatles, Blur/Oasis argument all over again . . .”

The other Gods (esp Zeus) look to Porridge like he is out of his mind. He looks back at them and only after a minute or 2 does he see the foolishness of what he has said.

Each morning Porridge wakes from this dream, covered in sweat, mouth dry, Naomi clutched to him, tears for dead Spatula in his right-wide-open eyes.

The Gods are just.

When Apollo 12 saw how much Porridge had suffered and how much he loved Naomi Campbell he sed it was OK for him to be a god again and they had a big party up in heaven and a wedding which is what all good stories end with. Anastasia was maid of honour and their old friend Rent-Boy was best man. All the gods were there – Asimov, Golgotha, Vinyard, Hologram, Mr Twinkle and Horse Radish as well as Barbie and Jupiter and many others too. It was a fabulous day and neither tears nor fighting did mar of it.

Only at one point did anyone cry, when Naomi and Porridge slipped away from the main party for a while and went down to that pool in the forest through which you could look down onto earth. There, thru the clouds and smog, they dropped a tear or 2 down onto the vandalised and unkempt grave of Spatula in Endland (sic). They missed him, of course, but kept their promises to him, and to each other, for ever and a day.

Eve & Mary

Eve & Mary

a very good story about two girls in 11 probably religious parts

Eve earned money washing blood containers in a hospital and later she earned money by going round planting trees for the govt after riots in ‘81.

Yrs later than that even she used to feel a gush of pride that the stunty wasted trees festooned with audio tape and poly bag ghosts were all planted by her hands.

Eve could get pride from anything.

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After a long courtship Eve got married to the son of a hairdresser. Eve (at that time) was a blonde stripagram and he was an oily Tarzanogram and people sed they were a perfect match.

Some nites they stayed in together and practised their routines, drunk on gin and laughing like hyenas. Other nites they stayed in and assembled biros for piece work.

Times were good to them.

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Eve and her husband/Tarzanogram bore one (1) kid – a girl Mary whose fave toy was a thing called MY LITTLE VOID. All night she’d stare in it, and all day if you let her.

Mary had what docters called “the faith of no faith” and many times dead birds, spiders etc were healed in her hands and their old TV worked better when she sat near to it or spoke and also she was double-jointed in an intriguing way.

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