John Marshall wrote:

Hvem er den galning som står på Kjeragbolten? :-)

Someone needs to stop drooling on the keyboard. -- Daniel "Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today." -- James Dean

Speaking of precarious, this reminds me of a time i was climbing in the japanese alps. We had been snowed in and where sheltering in a tiny crevis half way up a cliff and where quickly running out of gas (and thus water, we used the gas to melt snow). Also, we had ran out of cigarettes. needless to say, our situation was precarious.

oh yeah? you do have the tallest stories matthew! boy i rememeber this one time, i was some poor illiterate 7 year old hobo-child riding the rails between the big city and the big sticks, the old hobos, jimmy the hook, nasty, smelly sam, box car cameron, and frankie fingers (his name was a joke - he had no fingers). they where all inchorent drunken on meths, who would save thier urine and drink it again when they ran out of meths. some times they would get into fights. about the studpiedst things. one day b.c.cam was telling a story about some time his mamma and pappa took him for a picnic in the country and they played hide and seek with him. he said he didn't want to play. i think is parents wern't very good at it and they usually took a long time to find him. this time they didn't find him at all. eventually he got hungry and came out but instead of the getting lashed with a length of barded wire for cheating instead he just found himself in the same feild of cows by a river --just then fingers interupts laaast time yoo say it was sheeep naaa i didn it! retorted cam ya ya didn it! cam had been getting a bit sick of fingers and lunged at him, throtteling him. but fingers just bet him off with his stubby finger less fists (? do you need fingers for fists?) fingers thought furiously because he had some bizare accidnet involving a combine harvestor when he was a child. he broke his arms off so the local vet (who was also the butcher, conviently) sewed some legs of ham on in thier place. he could move them, but the nerves only went one way and he couldn't feel pain and would beat you with his stumps untill were bloody. either it was he didn't feel pain, or he was just stark raving mad. anyway, when cameron fell back on the ground he landed on a glass coffee table and it shattered. bits of glass where sticking out of his back, and blood, blood was every where. he picked up a shard of glass and started stabbing fingers furiously. he must have been purging some sort of crazy issuse from possible childhood sexual abuse because he cut fingers a new asshole and then raped him though it. things wern't the same around the shunting yard after that. the old sense of security was gone and basicially i was a barganing chip in a twisted game of abuse, lies, and murder. needless to say, my situation was precarious. i knew i had to get out of there. every waking moment i racked my poor little brain for a hope, for a plan. i taught my self to read from looking at signs that the train went past. then one day i found a bible in the gutter. it changed my life and i'd never looked back. On 6/13/05, Matthew Cruickshank <secretmoviemonday@holloway.co.nz> wrote:

Dominic Tarr wrote: Speaking of precarious, this reminds me of a time i was climbing in the japanese alps. We had been snowed in and where sheltering in a tiny crevis half way up a cliff and where quickly running out of gas (and thus water, we used the gas to melt snow). Also, we had ran out of cigarettes.

needless to say, our situation was precarious.

Pah, you call that precarious?!

When I was kid I often dabbled in gang business; just movements, nothing violent, things for the out-of-town Te Awamutu gangs that they wanted down the Waikato river (which I knew like the back of my hand). Upstream from Cobham Bridge was my link in the supply chain, you see. My friends and I would do 5 or 6 movements a week down the river under the cover of darkness... through the richer suburbs ... below the city lights. Like any town by a river they didn't take advantage of the water, there weren't many cafes or eyes lookin' our way. We'd ghost down the river with a dull torch that barely illuminated 5 metres ahead -- hung below a thick, black and usually damp umbrella to stop light pollution (very mindful of astronomers, we were!). Things were good. They said I had moxie, they called me Huckleberry - they said I had a future in them. I was doing business for only 4 months and they started screwing down my cuts, bashing around my kids. Couldn't even afford no chewing baccy anymore. Turns out that you don't get what's due when you're a dumb kid who doesn't know his place. That night was the christmas party on the Waipa Delta -- an ugly paddle wheeler draped in canvas and fairy lights that didn't know a thing about New Orleans paddle-boat schtick. The whole gang was there, Eddie, Lefty, Wise Owl Murphy, even the top cat Durant. Robert G. Durant was into shelving his medicine, and his preference was for one of my river urchins to assist him. This particular night he asked me to. Firmly enveloping my small 12 year old hand in his he led me through the murderers and pushers to a cupboard and with a razor blade hidden in my hand I followed him.

Needless to say, my situation was precarious.

-- .Matthew Cruickshank http://holloway.co.nz/

I am a Smurf???

From: monkeypig@paradise.net.nz Reply-To: secretmoviemonday@tentacle.net To: secretmoviemonday@tentacle.net Subject: [secretmoviemonday] Das Schlumpf Date: Mon, 13 Jun 2005 17:37:05 +1200 (NZST)

...

Hvem er den galning som står på Kjeragbolten? :-)

Ich bin ein Schlumpf.

Hilary