The Ides of Th0rn


Being only a quarter bejesus (on his step-daddies side), 'twas seemingly another innocent day filled with harmony, love, peace, clarity and tranquility in the life o' Th0rn. Well, that's how it always starts anyways.

Minding ones own bidness, as one should most often do, your dashing narrator found himself with a case o' the grumbellies. Wishing to dispose of this condition post hast, and seeing as a gubment job waits for no man, immortal or not, your humble scribe decided to partake in a fast break at a fine Scottish dining establishment, McDonalds. Do the Scottish mix well with the quarter bejesus (on their step-daddies sides)? Only time will tell on this question I am afraid.

Being slightly disgruntled that this authentic sounding Scottish restaurant had not even one of their employees in kilts, nor was there one single item of Scottish persuasion on their menu, not one pint of ale, nor even haggis mind you, your poet laureate decided to purchase a slightly familiar cuisine from south of the Rio Grande. Namely a breakfast burrito. Meaning little donkey in the native tongue, your local internationally known dashing man of mystery thought such an item with such a name would of course be filled with meat. 'Twas an agreeable, though begrudgingly so substitution for the delectable treat of the British isles.

And now, a word from our sponsors:

Zacky Thornson, son of Th0rn, is sad.

Little Zacky is sad because his father hasn't been selling those copies of Gothikus like hotcakes as he had once promised. Looks like that promise of a Wii and 45 games and the solid gold life sized statue of his pint-sized majesty Zack are gonna havta wait until sales increase, huh little Zack.

And now, back to our story:

Well, what is thought to be, and what is, are unfortunately not in harmony as often as one would wish for. For the "little donkey" that was recently purchased was filled with eggs, rather than meat. Shaking ones fist angrily in the air at "Da Man" for allowing such a flagrantly deceptive and wrongfully named item to be legally sold under this guise, your now agramavated lord of space-time (unconfirmed) muttered only the slightest of utterances under his breathe "Burrito shmurrito", when an unforeseen cataclysm occurred, which officially scared the bejesus out of your beloved teller of tales, and singer of songs.

It all happened so quickly, that to blink one would have missed it, but a stationary auto carriage was struck by a mobile one, ripping the front quarter panel nearly clean-off. First instincts are always the most intriguing, and your dashing orator was a bit mystified as to know he may have cause this calamity, or if he indeed was involved in it. Only surmising that the causer of this accident could have been merrily pointing to his wife and kids saying something along the lines of "Hey everybody look, it's the God-King Th0rn", May have been your scribes only involvement.

As it was a Catholic nun whose auto carriage was struck, and now officially having the bejesus scared out of your Karate kickin' kanoodler, it seemed to be quite an interesting set of coincidences. Now resting a tender pagan heart from the near attack it just nearly suffered, one can only wonder how one with a front row view, less than ten feet away, can plead the Shultz. "I know nuzzing, nuuuuzzing", were the only words that came to mind as the Th0rn mobile was able to start traveling upon its predetermined path once again.

Of course as is customary for all conspiracy theorists, the receipt from this electronic purchase was promptly destroyed, should a warrant of search be issued to inspect the Th0rn mobile, near denial could very well be poised for having neither been there, nor seen a thing. Truly struggling for a reason to alert the local constables, that a non-witness witness was on the scene, seemed to be an exercise in futility. Bejesus having been removed, there seems to be good things on the horizon for the God-King, and emperor for life of the now economically thriving Greater Gothic Alliance. Let those poppies grow, a little heroin nor opium never hurt nobody, Th0rn snickered onto himself.

In other news, a surprise resurfacing from the space of my, as none other than the setter of the Sun, Nymphetamine herself had made a call requesting the brute force removal of the hacking ghost of troubled manner. This though, my dear readers, is a story for another time I am certain.