TALES OF INTEREST
And now a story of deceipt and betrayal by Trepe Narennd!
The clock struck 11. Billy glanced up, and took note of the time, adjusting his chronometer. He continued to tinker with his fuzzy logic accordian. "Methinks I will have tuna for tea", he said to himself. SUDDENLY, from the corner of the room, materialised none other than Steve McQueen, wearing cotton panties and a pair of goggles several sizes too small. He also had singing gophers for nipples. "Blast! You and your cursed gophers have tracked me down!" exclaimed Billy. "Mwahaha! You were a fool to believe you could escape! None shall escape!" With that, Billy donned his accordian - "I must defeat you in the ways of Gitaroo! Or you have no honour!" The vile gopher maniac snarled - "Your gitaroo accordian cannot be matched by my gopherpower - for that is why I have come to prove... you are a coward!" "No, I am not the coward - look into you heart and see the truth cannot be found by being - it must be found by seeking. This is the truth your black heart desires - this is your unhappy destiny." "Do not mock me Billy - soon all the power of your accordian will be mine and nothing shall stop me!" With that, the battle ensued.
Stay tuned for the next episode of "Billy and the Happy Gopher"!
~
This is the story of a happy, sassy little enzyme called β-galactosidase, known to his friends as β-gal.
THAT HAPPY ENZYME
One day while β-gal was dusting his neat little home, he heard an impatient knock on the door. “Funny”, he thought, “I don’t remember inviting my uneducated llama friend over today. Perhaps it is his lack of knowledge and social ethics that has resulted in his unannounced arrival?” as β-gal pondered the habits of llamas (especially the uneducated), he opened the door. “β-GAL!!!” Henry the uneducated llama slobbered, “I haven’t seen you in so … err… line?” “long” β-gal supplied, “LONG!!” Henry exclaimed, “C’mere ol buddy!” and with that Henry enveloped β-gal in a warm and loving hug, almost degrading β-gal in the process with his elevated body temperature. β -gal pushed himself away and desperately tried to think of something with which to distract Henry and get him out of his house. Just as he was reaching for a humorously shaped avocado, Henry manoeuvred himself out of the doorway and into β -Gal’s kitchen. “Rats!” ejected β -gal, as he realised his chances of extracting Henry from his house in the near future were minimal to none.
As β -gal contemplated, comprehended and collocated ways of getting rid of Henry, another knock on the door came, why not. “Who else could it be?” exasperated β -gal, and strangely enough, he opened the door. Three small, furry and rather angry mammals of some description were standing in his doorway, one tapping it’s foot, the other tapping it’s foot with a lead pipe, and the last one picking it’s nose. And then tapping it’s nose in an indecent manner. They attacked β -gal with such ferocity and speed that β -gal was not aware it had occurred, let alone show any visible signs of the attack. “Hello” gumped the seemingly furriest of the three, “are you β -galactosidase, of lac operon lane, Escherichia coli?” “Er.. yes” β -gal stammered, “what seems to be the problem, Mr… er…?” “Rennand, and these are my colleagues Arterc and Avages” “how do you do?” β -gal tipped the first three amino acid residues at the top of his locus politely in greeting. “Gravely, I’m afraid” sniffed Avages, as she sniffed herself. “Someone has been stealing all of the avocadoes from our home!” wailed Arterc, in a dramatic manner. “Er…” β -gal replied shiftily, “it couldn’t have been me” he protested as he shoved avocadoes down his non-existent pants. “I’m afraid that we know it was you, β -galactosidase. We saw a small green enzyme climbing our tree around 2 pm everyday, and yesterday you made the fatal mistake of wearing your genetic sequence on your person!” “Nooooooooooooooooooooooo
ooooooooooo!” Noooo’d β -gal, as he realised his doominity “And now,” jack-knifed Avages, “your gene must be DOWN-REGULATED!!!” *doom music*. At which point β -gal fainted clean away, in a way in which only an enzyme can - he didn’t.
Arterc opened a small vial containing a clear, sticky liquid and began splashing it around β -gal’s house. “Oh god.. is that… is that….?!?!” stapled β -gal “glucose?!” The three furry mammals laughed in a most ebil manner, confirming β -gal’s stapled and poorly phrased question. β -gal nooooo’d once more: “nooooooooooo!!” “now, you must suffer the under-expressing effect of glucose!” snarled Rennand, as he held his claws up in a threatening way for extra drama. β -gal stared helplessly in horror as he slowly shrank, in response to the high levels of glucose. The three furry mammals swished their fur in a final act of drama, and were gone, to leave β -gal to reduce to nothing. Meanwhile, in the kitchen Henry was busy cooking soup. He pulled out his earplugs which were, incidentally, blasting the Dresden Dolls, and yelled “hey β -gal, do you like minestrone?” When all he heard in reply was screams of agony, he rushed out to the living room where β -gal was still shrinking. “Well, do you? Oh, you seem to be shrinking!” “Help me Henry!” coagulated β -gal “look through my biochemistry textbooks - I need to be induced and over-expressed or I’ll die!” And with that, Henry rushed to the mountainous pile of textbooks in the corner, and studied furiously and arousingly.
Some time later, Henry lit up as he was electrocuted by the new neuronal connections he had just formed. “I’ve found it! β -galactosidase transcription is promoted in the presence of lactose!”. Henry quickly went to work. He ate all of the glucose in the house, and proceeded to pour milk all over β -gal. β -gal gratefully metabolised the lactose in the milk to glucose, which Henry also ate. Gross? Yes, but Henry was a hero you see! For β -gal regained his strength from the lactose and was soon returned to normal. The two friends embraced, and β -gal laughed happy tears of rage. “Thankyou, my old friend!” illuminated β -gal, “but I have to ask.. why did you come over today in the first place?” “Because it’s your birthday!” And with that, numerous sexy girl enzymes appeared out of nowhere and disco music began. Henry gesticulated to β -gal "Boy, knowledge sure is a wonderful thing! Now I feel like listening to heavy metal!" And so everyone danced in a most beany manner, until they were exhausted and went to bed.
THE END
~
NO THANKS, I’VE ALREADY GOT A PENGUIN
A small walnut was beating an oriental rug outside his home one day when a door-to-door salesrat came up with that cheesy grin that rats are best noted for.
“Good day Walnut Biggles”
“Well, hello Alec Baldwin!” The walnut replied, shocked at the sudden overpowering smell of camembert that accompanied the salesrat’s greeting. It always fascinated the walnut to think that one could live entirely off camembert and pastries and still retain the slim and lithe physique of an athlete. Secretly he was jealous, but walnuts are programmed to be polite and subdued.
“Well, I’ll cut right to the chase then, shall I? I need a favour. And I need a walnut flavoured favour. There are times in a rat’s life when only a walnut essence errand will compliment the particular palette of my humble and mostly ratty life. The Japanese Psycho has fled the vortex of the void by concocting a daring escape and I need you to track him down and bring him to me.” Alec Baldwin produced a case from behind his back. The walnut had been guessing that he was just scratching his ratty behind as most rats and many other creatures do. The walnut wondered if a simple walnut could actually pull off such a ferocious and somewhat sexually stimulating act of heroism and courage. Oh, the walnuts at the bean parlour would be so very envious if this were to all go to plan. But being a walnut, he had severe disadvantages for attack and defence. Number one: he was a walnut. That was the end of his list, and though there was only on item on this list, it was an extremely relevant point. Before Alec Baldwin could open the case, the walnut cut him off. Of course, he cut him off figuratively speaking, not literally. Remember, he is a walnut and has an extreme disadvantage when it comes to holding things. Especially knives with which to cut people off with. Randomly, you may be wondering how in fact the walnut was beating the oriental rug if he couldn’t use a knife to cut someone? Truth be told, he was beating it in a staring contest and had been for the past three days. That’s got to be some sort of record.
“How am I to help you in the retrieval of the Japanese Psycho? I am just a walnut, and that’s got to be a disadvantage.”
“Normally I would agree with you, Walnut,” said Alec Baldwin, “But this time, you’re the only person for the job. You see, the Japanese Psycho is *intervening dramatic music* a cashew!!”
Random gasps echoed up from across the playing field as the camera zoomed in on the walnut.
“No! You can’t be serious!?” expelled the walnut, trembling slightly at the mention of the better selling nut. “But he would be roasted golden and slightly salted from being in the vortex of the void… how can I ever match up to that?”
“With this” And at that two word address he produced from the case a ragged looking tutu with a pair of red hooker stilettos and an eraser shaped like a naive and attractive panda. Sorrow, shame and curiosity enveloped the walnut. He wasn’t so sure about this plan of Alec Baldwin’s any more. He would have rather been made into a cake than chased and beaten and squished and most likely eaten by the cashew known as the Japanese Psycho. The walnut had heard that the Japanese eat anything and seeing as he was a walnut, he was no exception.
“You will do this,” Alec Baldwin stated, chicken-eyeing the walnut in a menacing manner, “And you will deliver this message to him.” Alec Baldwin leant down and whispered something in his ear.
The walnut sighed. He had been enjoying winning the stare off, but he felt that the game was boring the oriental rug. The only reason the walnut was even playing that game with the rug was because he wanted to get into it’s pants. He looked up at Alec Baldwin and nodded in a walnutty fashion. The camembert smile grew large and with a ratty laugh echoing throughout the time-space continuum, he slowly disappeared, with his ratty smile being the last thing to disappear. That reminded the walnut of some fairy story he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but in the end he guessed it was probably the one where the walnut prince reveals he is a homosexual to his kingly father and then introduces his boyfriend who is a pumpkin seed. Yes, that was probably the one.
The walnut donned his hero costume and took a few tentative steps around in the red hooker stilettos. He found he had natural grace with them and took of at the speed of walnut to track down the cashew. To be honest, the shoes basically took him there and the walnut just enjoyed the ride. Shoes are very good at walking places on their own and can become a menace if not kept under control.
After what seemed to be seventeen days and seventeen nights across desert and marshland, mountain and gully, but really was a twenty minute walk down a hill, across a puddle, past the road that lead to the beach and then up four cement steps, the walnut came across the Japanese Psycho. He was an attractive fellow, glowing golden with the look of being slightly salted, just as the walnut had predicted. The cashew looked up from his copy of Oscar Wilde’s ‘The Ballad of Reading Gaol’ and the two nuts just stared at each other. After what seemed an eternity and no time at all, the walnut stepped out of the costume and walked tentatively over to the cashew, who tilted his cashewy body sideways in a most inquisitive fashion that made the walnut blush slightly beneath his crispy shell. The cashew put his book down and stood. The two nuts stayed looking at each other like this for more than seven days. A new record, the walnut thought to himself. On the eighth day, the cashew, without taking his eyes off the nut before him, reached out and touched the walnut.
“Hi” he said in a dark and sultry voice, “Now you say something.”
The walnut wanted to look away, but was mesmerised by his cashewy stare.
“Le carard fait coin coin…” he muttered. The cashew’s eyes grew wide in surprise and then he smiled as much as a cashew can smile.
‘Everything’s going to be okey’ he thought to himself.
The walnut had no idea what the cashew was thinking because he was a cashew and we all know that the only nuts that can read minds are macadamias. So he just smiled fondly back at the cashew, knowing that somewhere a child was probably being beaten with a horseshoe.
Horses are bitches like that.
I'm not on here much any more eh? Hahahhahah!!! What have I been doing. Quick update because I need another can of coke.
Lemme see. I..... I've been working and tafing... I'm at the end of my holidays now. I went on a surfing holiday with Ben wich was awesome. We went down the great ocean road and up to Bells Beach and 13th for a week. Umm.... I bought furnature, big woot, I'm in the process of buying a car and updating my studio... I was in a band and we played a hot as gig, but then the band broke up because the singer and one of the guitarists weren't pulling their weight and were slacking off, turning up late, getting high, turning up late and high. That sorta shit. So now we're just trying to figure out what's gonna happen.
Uhh... I've been trying to write electronica and drum&bass tunes. Ahh my secret fetish.
Surfing ebay.
Buying things off ebay.
Organising to go to uni next year.
Hanging out with friends playing Red Alert2 and kknd and going to the movies and the pancake klitchen and playing pictionary.
Getting drunk.
Going to raves.
Getting little to no sleep and doing lots of stuff.
Hahahah it's not too bad.