Absolution for Holy Shit & Kitty Krap by Divine Authority
_______________________________________________
God certainly does move in mysterious ways.
Who would have thought that two excretiously named hashmen should “dump” themselves together and receive a personal absolution from St Francis Xavier himself? But that’s’ just what they did, in spite of their
ongoing associations with the hash and other unsavoury extra curricula activities which include the following.
Just the day before setting the run (Sunday of all days) E-Shit
confided in your secretive and confidential journo that the photo to
the left was his latest squeeze (or bulge as the case may be).
The sumptuous “hot babe” he covets is actually as cold as marble and is known among the hash boys as Miss Mary Frigidaire. He was invited to bring them both along so that the pack could break some of the more pleasurable commandments together!
Instead, in an act of pretend remorse and repentance E-Shit then
submitted a couple of beach side shots of another Hot Bulging Babe with whom he had even more Hots.
E-Shit was utterly convinced that all was OK. He even stated that he was being watched over and blessed for the whole night by his chosen saint… St Francis Xavier as he had arranged for a load of his best hash mates to attend a major conversion ceremony in the religious hall of his watchful Saint’s name, St Francis of Xavier.
Meanwhile Kitty Litter or perhaps that should be Kitty Krap had realised that his pension was running a little thin and had branched out into another of his spurious and entrepreneurial exploits by excreting and selling what he knows best..… ‘Kitty Krap’. Cunningly conceived and most beautifully packaged, his new venture is a sure winner in the cut and thrust of the unconscionable corporate world.
Yes….You’ve guessed it …”Where there’s muck there’s money”.
The Cunning Kat has done it again. Instead of placing “it” into a tray of nice clean litter he has started selling it as the gift from hell. The sort of pressie that you leave on the table at the end of an awful On-On; you know..at one of those failed restaurant meals. Or on the Ex-Missus’ kitchen table…..?
Not content with ‘the mess on the floor pressie’, Kitty has gone full throttle and into bigger and better things. He has already moved on to the ‘Super Krap’ range of luxury wrapped presents.
Nothing says I hate you, like a gift wrapped Kat Turd. Intended as the
object of your irritation and the ultimate ‘Non-Gift’; this range of luxury corporate pressies will leave the recipient (from the CEO downwards) in no doubt that they are truly loathed, terminally annoying or probably both. A sort of a smack in the mouth, but without the violence. Heaven forbid, with his recent conversion to, and blessing from, St Francis Xavier Kitty would always condemn any violence, … wouldn’t he?
Kitty’s new fabulously packaged gifts include the following exclusive range:
The Turdily Wrapped Pretty Kitty Poop is a selection of the smallest offerings from the litter tray. A perfect gift for the bitch in your life…
The Deluxe Kitty Krap box says “Fuck you, Arsehole”. This true beauty is full to the brim with a selection of poopy doops (Please note, Kitty Krap is a naturally occurring product. Therefore size and texture may vary depending on the diet of the cat responsible for laying it).
Or the man-sized Turd Mountain. This exclusive gift provides selected offerings from the largest and mangiest of his feline friends.
And so under the watchful eyes of St Francis of Xavier we started our pilgrimage into the early evening, down and towards the limpid waters of Sydney Harbour … at Lavender Bay Docks, or so we thought. Once down the pack was immediately struck asunder by the most evil and
unconscionable check/check-back, reverse uphill etc etc .
Grape Ape and his military mate Captain Haddock marched up together several minutes later (just like the Thompson Twins) shouting in a demanding and highly indignant manner “Well ……Where the Fuck Are You ?” Not that they had ANY intention of doing any checking themselves. God Forbid No!
Rightly so…No-one took the slightest of notice of them.
But perhaps St Francis Xavier was watching over us all along, as we passed “Le Masion du E-Merde”, and down towards the twinkling harbour lights reflected in the water at Milsons Point, and then along the foreshore as much as possible. All the romantic things that should have happened the week before, but sadly we were cut down and denied by the onset of The Swamp Thing’s severe allergy to calcium
carbonate.
Romantic view after romantic harbour view and almost as many flights of stairs as Jumble Jim’s and The Goon’s run over at Clovelly a week or so before that, but without their suburban street real estate run-about.
Balls-Up Point with its recent industrial archaeological and landscaped renovation gave us the best view of the night…not that many (any?) stopped to say “thank you” to St Francis, possibly as it was built way after His time.
Nonetheless we then wound our way through a few laneways and heritage streets and back to the welcoming urn of sustentation, like sparkling alter wine from the communal vat. And all on a perfect mild
early Spring evening, with hot chipolatas served instead of breaking the bread or manna from heaven.
The Holy tables had been set for the conversion and confirmation laden with salads. The kitchen was abandoned and E-Shit, now dutifully renamed for the night as Friar FOES, had made a short pilgrimage to the local food house of district repute, and returned with a blessed curry, nan bread, and lots of bountiful offerings from the Sub-continent.
Emperor Darwin Don had returned from Rome without any Frankincense and Myrrh…but instead with lots of Gold Gold and Gold. What a bloody Champion! Having cleaned up at the world games (Turin), he was hardly able to stand up straight with all the shiny gongs wrapped around his neck like a Boa Constrictor. But being the born athlete that he is, he entertained the cheering crowds like a gladiator in the Colosseum.
And staying on the religious theme of the night we were also blessed by Cardinal, or was that Pope Dick Head. He was simply stunning with that new fashion Vatican styled “off the shoulder” cape. Very fetching it was too, and of course like all Medieval Popes he was never seen without his bottle of blessed “water” courtesy St Tooheys.
Now, God Does in deed move in miraculous ways.
Even E-shit and Kitty Krap couldn’t explain why the night was so successful …..other than St Francis himself had blessed him as “Holy Shit”
Your Hash Journo