All you can eat at china buffet king followed by all you can drink at the pub turns out to leave you feeling pretty damn crap in the stomach department. Still, got my essay in today, only a mere day late and a mere 100 words short. made a few impressive points about how allegorical myth gave rise to the metaphysical poets, except that wasn't anything to do with the question. also learned about "Sprezzaturra" which is how i live my life.
Time for some relgion! Original sin was the first independant and wholly original act of mankind (save Adam getting to name everything-thereby cementing it's nature) and the eating of the fruit of knowelge was the first act of free will, so kudos to eve who kind of got the shit end of the stick when it all hit the fan. Though i will still rip the piss out of any feminist that blames me for the penis glass ceiling.
thought of the day-Why is it the bigger man that always has to bend his will (and back) to all the small people?
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
Tuesday, 9 December 2008
Remember this???
over a year old, so be gentle...
Jim had drunk a lot, and thus needed a wizz sooooo bad. Hence he was not entirely observant of the sign that hung above the door. His friend Stewart, or stew the lying bastard as he was better known to his friends, had simply pointed him there and Jim had stupidly taken his word for it. He really should have known something was up when he saw that there were no stalls in the room, but the deadly combination of full bladder, weak bladder AND shy bladder prevented him from giving the problem his full attention. And now he was trapped, like a rat in a toilet cubicle in the women’s bathroom. Stuck Behind enemy lines, surrounded by hostile forces. No doubt feminists with scissors, knowing his luck. They had come in before he was done, laughing and talking about strange, womany concepts that scared him. Such things man was not meant to know.
Of course he could have simply walked out and explained the whole thing, but he had the misfortune of being nicknamed Jim the dirty pervert, for no other reason than he had 3 times walked in on his flat mate having sex. To be perfectly fair only 1 of those had been on purpose. His reputation would only be further cemented by this…misunderstanding, despite his best of intentions that all he wanted to do was siphon the python, with a 20% chance of hand washing afterwards.
Righto JimBob, aint no sense worrying about this problem. What we gotta do is solve it, with James Bond suaveness and Solid Snake sneakyness. Look around man, see what you have at your disposal? What would Magyver do?
Jim nodded to his internal monologue, which always seemed to be ahead of him. He scanned the cubicle for something, anything that could be used to help him out of this predicament. The toilet! Maybe a man could, with a bit of effort, squeeze himself down through the plumbing and swim his way to safety. Jim stared a long time down it, weighing his chances. He was about to try and stick his leg down it when he realized something vitally important. He had not yet flushed. Then something else struck him. The idea was stupid.
Bah, good plans are so hard to come up with when you’re incredibly drunk
Jim nodded bitterly in agreement. He resumed his scanning of his prison. What he really needed…was to look like a woman! Maybe, just maybe by stripping that toilet brush of its bristles for hair, constructing a dress out of toilet paper and using addition paper for cleavage…
Good, good. You’re on to something here, just a bit more…
“There” he muttered, after 10 minutes of cosmetic surgery. Unfortunately he had ran out of toilet paper at the final stages, so rather than being his preferred cup size of DD, he as a slightly more lop sided AC.
He looked over himself critically, thinking what a good job he had done. Had their actually been a mirror present he would have reconsidered this opinion. He braced himself for the coming challenge
Ok Jim, remember. Sway those hips, pout them lips, and for gods sake look graceful! Like 2 swans effortless mating upon the still frozen lake of early spring. Now…show time.
He opened the door and flounced out. Two young women, who had been touching up their makeup, glanced at him in mixed horror and bemusement.
“Hey girlfriends” he crooned, unable to resist abusing his brief gender swap. “Did you see that hunk out there called Jim? I dunno about you’s but I’d certainly give him one night to remember!”
He winked at them both and departed, amazed at his own ingenuity. Outside he found Stew.
“Hey man, them unisex toilets are pretty far out eh?” Strew told him “Girls and guys pissing together. It’s like we’re living in the future man! You’re covered in toilet paper by the way. Did someone jump you?”
Jim looked at him for a long, long time, before he finally said, “Shut up stud and buy me a drink”
Jim had drunk a lot, and thus needed a wizz sooooo bad. Hence he was not entirely observant of the sign that hung above the door. His friend Stewart, or stew the lying bastard as he was better known to his friends, had simply pointed him there and Jim had stupidly taken his word for it. He really should have known something was up when he saw that there were no stalls in the room, but the deadly combination of full bladder, weak bladder AND shy bladder prevented him from giving the problem his full attention. And now he was trapped, like a rat in a toilet cubicle in the women’s bathroom. Stuck Behind enemy lines, surrounded by hostile forces. No doubt feminists with scissors, knowing his luck. They had come in before he was done, laughing and talking about strange, womany concepts that scared him. Such things man was not meant to know.
Of course he could have simply walked out and explained the whole thing, but he had the misfortune of being nicknamed Jim the dirty pervert, for no other reason than he had 3 times walked in on his flat mate having sex. To be perfectly fair only 1 of those had been on purpose. His reputation would only be further cemented by this…misunderstanding, despite his best of intentions that all he wanted to do was siphon the python, with a 20% chance of hand washing afterwards.
Righto JimBob, aint no sense worrying about this problem. What we gotta do is solve it, with James Bond suaveness and Solid Snake sneakyness. Look around man, see what you have at your disposal? What would Magyver do?
Jim nodded to his internal monologue, which always seemed to be ahead of him. He scanned the cubicle for something, anything that could be used to help him out of this predicament. The toilet! Maybe a man could, with a bit of effort, squeeze himself down through the plumbing and swim his way to safety. Jim stared a long time down it, weighing his chances. He was about to try and stick his leg down it when he realized something vitally important. He had not yet flushed. Then something else struck him. The idea was stupid.
Bah, good plans are so hard to come up with when you’re incredibly drunk
Jim nodded bitterly in agreement. He resumed his scanning of his prison. What he really needed…was to look like a woman! Maybe, just maybe by stripping that toilet brush of its bristles for hair, constructing a dress out of toilet paper and using addition paper for cleavage…
Good, good. You’re on to something here, just a bit more…
“There” he muttered, after 10 minutes of cosmetic surgery. Unfortunately he had ran out of toilet paper at the final stages, so rather than being his preferred cup size of DD, he as a slightly more lop sided AC.
He looked over himself critically, thinking what a good job he had done. Had their actually been a mirror present he would have reconsidered this opinion. He braced himself for the coming challenge
Ok Jim, remember. Sway those hips, pout them lips, and for gods sake look graceful! Like 2 swans effortless mating upon the still frozen lake of early spring. Now…show time.
He opened the door and flounced out. Two young women, who had been touching up their makeup, glanced at him in mixed horror and bemusement.
“Hey girlfriends” he crooned, unable to resist abusing his brief gender swap. “Did you see that hunk out there called Jim? I dunno about you’s but I’d certainly give him one night to remember!”
He winked at them both and departed, amazed at his own ingenuity. Outside he found Stew.
“Hey man, them unisex toilets are pretty far out eh?” Strew told him “Girls and guys pissing together. It’s like we’re living in the future man! You’re covered in toilet paper by the way. Did someone jump you?”
Jim looked at him for a long, long time, before he finally said, “Shut up stud and buy me a drink”
JETSOOOOOOON!
Had to do a character sketch off the cuff for journalism. behold my pa
My old man has a catch all angry look, and it’s a pretty good one, able to silence small children and make older people wary. It’s all about the eyes, wide and crazy and arched by a sever brow. Most times it’s more put on than genuine rage, and you can spot a wry smile beginning to curl its way up his mouth. He uses it as a tool rather than an expression, just try talking over a favourite program of his and watch him turn it on you.
Then again, he has mellowed some in his golden grey years. And as such he has developed a new look, one of exasperated reproach. This is helped in no small way by the addition of reading glasses, softening the blows of his brow bashing. He now peers over them with disdain for the latest sheer stupidity he has bore witness to.
The glasses used to be a bit of sore point, and he was loathe to buy them, but necessity generally wins over conceit. And now I reckon he has grown rather attached to them, filling the role of world weary intellectual as he proudly announces that it only took him four weeks to finish the da vinci code.
My old man has a catch all angry look, and it’s a pretty good one, able to silence small children and make older people wary. It’s all about the eyes, wide and crazy and arched by a sever brow. Most times it’s more put on than genuine rage, and you can spot a wry smile beginning to curl its way up his mouth. He uses it as a tool rather than an expression, just try talking over a favourite program of his and watch him turn it on you.
Then again, he has mellowed some in his golden grey years. And as such he has developed a new look, one of exasperated reproach. This is helped in no small way by the addition of reading glasses, softening the blows of his brow bashing. He now peers over them with disdain for the latest sheer stupidity he has bore witness to.
The glasses used to be a bit of sore point, and he was loathe to buy them, but necessity generally wins over conceit. And now I reckon he has grown rather attached to them, filling the role of world weary intellectual as he proudly announces that it only took him four weeks to finish the da vinci code.
Thursday, 4 December 2008
whimsical xmas list
A replica of josephs technicoloured dream coat
A jane cobb hat
rubber aligator
fluffy bunny slippers
All of avatar on dvd
a bubble pipe
a monocule
hungry hungry hippos
A jane cobb hat
rubber aligator
fluffy bunny slippers
All of avatar on dvd
a bubble pipe
a monocule
hungry hungry hippos
fluff
Scene shifts to the next day, in the hustle and bustle of the market
Vendor Fresh fruit! Get your fresh fruit! Red apples and blue berries. White grapes and dark cherries! Buy and try and then buy some more!
Gordo Another Cherrie to pop in my mouth my good sir. A ravenous appetite I have for the things, with their sweet juices in my mouth
Vendor Might you not buy a bunch, rather than a mere morsel at a time
Gordo Ah, but who savours that which is plentiful? It is only through scant rarities that we derive true pleasure. To the parched throat brackish water might taste of sweet nectar. Only to the starving slave does crusty bread seem a meal fit for a king
Beck enters, having overheard this exchange
Beck And only to lonely hearts does cupid’s arrow strike true
Gordo Good morrow my friend, true words be your first this day. Hence my desire to be a moving target, not tied down by any individual affection
Beck And perhaps Cupid might find your heart too small a target for his milky filmed eyes to perceive
Gordo Many other foolish lovers fall afoul of his failing sights. Lovers’ quarrels rise as Cupids quiver lies empty and spent of spite
Beck Ha, the more I hear you speak of him, the more of him I see in you. And was your own spiteful love well spent last night? Any grim satisfaction to be had by the tainting of that young maids clear blue eyes?
Gordo I suspect I am not the first to dip a toe into those shallow depths, though a tasty dish she proved to be. Yet I already feel my appetite coming back to me
Beck How fitting a man who didn’t know his father would end up trying father so many
Gordo Hardly, I left my lady with the gift I leave them all. Red snare herbs. If she makes and drinks the tea no child will she be burdened with.
Beck And if she doesn’t?
Gordo Then I wash my hands of her. The letter I left made clear my intent. No true son am I and no true father I could be.
Beck Quite the romantic, aren’t you
Gordo And quite the son are you. Tell me, has you father found out about his empty breeches where you pursued his purse for gambling purpose.
Beck I have yet borrowed time to pay my borrowed debts. He is out of town on urgent business, leaving us free to reclaim and redeem from this unseemly scene
Gordo But how to go about such a venture? Perhaps with more funds and more cards
Beck No! through honest labour shall we recompense.
Gordo Very well, let us flee and seek some truthful work. Quickly though, for the sun slows for none.
Gordo exits hastily
Beck Strange he be so eager
Vendor What! That swine has made off with my wares! I trust you shall pay his fare !
Beck Tch! I shall good sir…let me just seek coins, in my other breeches!
Beck runs after Gordo. End scene
Vendor Fresh fruit! Get your fresh fruit! Red apples and blue berries. White grapes and dark cherries! Buy and try and then buy some more!
Gordo Another Cherrie to pop in my mouth my good sir. A ravenous appetite I have for the things, with their sweet juices in my mouth
Vendor Might you not buy a bunch, rather than a mere morsel at a time
Gordo Ah, but who savours that which is plentiful? It is only through scant rarities that we derive true pleasure. To the parched throat brackish water might taste of sweet nectar. Only to the starving slave does crusty bread seem a meal fit for a king
Beck enters, having overheard this exchange
Beck And only to lonely hearts does cupid’s arrow strike true
Gordo Good morrow my friend, true words be your first this day. Hence my desire to be a moving target, not tied down by any individual affection
Beck And perhaps Cupid might find your heart too small a target for his milky filmed eyes to perceive
Gordo Many other foolish lovers fall afoul of his failing sights. Lovers’ quarrels rise as Cupids quiver lies empty and spent of spite
Beck Ha, the more I hear you speak of him, the more of him I see in you. And was your own spiteful love well spent last night? Any grim satisfaction to be had by the tainting of that young maids clear blue eyes?
Gordo I suspect I am not the first to dip a toe into those shallow depths, though a tasty dish she proved to be. Yet I already feel my appetite coming back to me
Beck How fitting a man who didn’t know his father would end up trying father so many
Gordo Hardly, I left my lady with the gift I leave them all. Red snare herbs. If she makes and drinks the tea no child will she be burdened with.
Beck And if she doesn’t?
Gordo Then I wash my hands of her. The letter I left made clear my intent. No true son am I and no true father I could be.
Beck Quite the romantic, aren’t you
Gordo And quite the son are you. Tell me, has you father found out about his empty breeches where you pursued his purse for gambling purpose.
Beck I have yet borrowed time to pay my borrowed debts. He is out of town on urgent business, leaving us free to reclaim and redeem from this unseemly scene
Gordo But how to go about such a venture? Perhaps with more funds and more cards
Beck No! through honest labour shall we recompense.
Gordo Very well, let us flee and seek some truthful work. Quickly though, for the sun slows for none.
Gordo exits hastily
Beck Strange he be so eager
Vendor What! That swine has made off with my wares! I trust you shall pay his fare !
Beck Tch! I shall good sir…let me just seek coins, in my other breeches!
Beck runs after Gordo. End scene
Wednesday, 3 December 2008
the worker sells his penis
There are a hell of a lot of asian chicks mailing my bebo account telling me how handsome I am. though susicions are raised when two of them use the same profile picture under different names. I don't really go in for the whole Asian fettish thing myself (racist!) Nor have i ever found black women very attractive. And before anyone Godwins me up and say only Aryan will do for bob, blondes generally get excluded as well.
I should probably stress right now that I have a foxy young lady that puts up with me, and i'm quite happy with the whole situtation. It also proves my theory that good things do happen when you dress up as zorro and drink lots of cider.
Having had various esssay submission (hold) dates mistaken or moved, it turns out that i'm not really in the shit at all. Plus, I'm gradually distinguishing myself too my tutors in class-even if i did reference terry pratchette one time. also note-a marxist reading of harry potter ISN'T very interesting. What IS intresting however, is going through das kapital and replacing every usage of the word labour with the word penis. go on, try it!
"If capitals that set in motion unequal quantities of living labour produce unequal amounts of surplus-value, this assumes that the level of exploitation of labour, or the rate of surplus-value, is the same, at least to a certain extent, or that the distinctions that exist here are balanced out by real or imaginary (conventional) grounds of compensation"
Also, if you substitute capitalist for evil killer robot, then almost no difference is made at all.
Thought of the day-if you want penis advice, ask a gay man
I should probably stress right now that I have a foxy young lady that puts up with me, and i'm quite happy with the whole situtation. It also proves my theory that good things do happen when you dress up as zorro and drink lots of cider.
Having had various esssay submission (hold) dates mistaken or moved, it turns out that i'm not really in the shit at all. Plus, I'm gradually distinguishing myself too my tutors in class-even if i did reference terry pratchette one time. also note-a marxist reading of harry potter ISN'T very interesting. What IS intresting however, is going through das kapital and replacing every usage of the word labour with the word penis. go on, try it!
"If capitals that set in motion unequal quantities of living labour produce unequal amounts of surplus-value, this assumes that the level of exploitation of labour, or the rate of surplus-value, is the same, at least to a certain extent, or that the distinctions that exist here are balanced out by real or imaginary (conventional) grounds of compensation"
Also, if you substitute capitalist for evil killer robot, then almost no difference is made at all.
Thought of the day-if you want penis advice, ask a gay man
Tuesday, 2 December 2008
behind blue eyes
Cabel sat and drank and tried to avoid looking at anyone. He ordered another drink from the barman with his eyes downcast. He liked it here. The place was underground so there were no windows, and no effort was made to cater for women, so no mirrors either.
His dark dark sunglasses slid down his face and he hastily adjusted them. Through the black monochrome that he saw the world, he tried to read his book. He had to hold it very close to his face to make out the words. The cover was gone from it. It had been carefully torn it off when he bought it. Why did authors insist on having their pictures on their work?
The barman, for want of anything else to do, turned the television on and Cabel swivelled on his stool so his back was to it. He was well practised in blocking out certain parts of the world. What he couldn’t block out though, was the rough shove he received that sent him falling off his perch, arms flapping wildly.
Picking himself off the floor, he adjusted his sunglasses again and looked at the big biker boots of the person that had pushed him.
“Yes?” he said
“Why'd you turn your back on the game, you prick?”
“I don’t follow it” he told the boots
“It’s cause we scored, you sectarian bastard. Wasn’t it?”
“No”
“Shut up” The boots arms grabbed him and spun Cabel around so he faced the TV “Now watch the replay of this amazing belter of a goal”
Rough hands ripped Cabel’s sunglasses off and the gloom of the bar pierced his eyes. He blinked rapidly and then shut his lids tight, but not before seeing a whole sea of faces on the TV. He felt sick, like eels and snakes were fighting and fucking in his stomach. He was spun round again.
“Now” said the owner of the big boots and the heavy hands. “Tell me that wasn’t poetry in motion, you wee fuck”
The rapid spinning proved too much for Cabel and he emptied his stomach onto the broad chest in front.
“Sorry” he said, hurriedly bending down to pick up his glasses.
A vicious kick greeted him and the shades were broken against, and with, his nose. Cabel's head shot up in pain and for the first time he met his assailant’s eyes. No no no no…
But it was ok, and he breathed a sign of relief as he received kicks and punches from someone that didn’t have to die.
When the man had left, Cabel picked himself up and went to the bathroom to clean the blood off. He did this in the closed stall with water from the toilet basin, just in case anyone surprised him. reaching into his jacket, he pulled out another pair of opaque glasses from a bundle that hadn't been damaged by the beating. Satisfied with this, he went back out.
The bar had gone silent, except for the sound of channels being changed in rapid succession. And the scratch of someone furiously scribbling down notes. He risked looking up. The barman lay slumped over the table with a knife in his back. And standing over him, nonchalant and with eyes fixed on the TV, was Cabel’s brother, Sain
“Hey coward” Sain said, not shifting his gaze. “Still failing to live up to your gifts I see” he gestured towards the barman. “And I bet you haven’t been doing any homework either” Scribble scribble went the pen.
“What I don’t know can’t hurt or haunt me” Cabel replied
“Then why is your nose broken?” Sain put his notebook away and walked over to him. He grabbed Cabel’s nose and twisted it left with a crack.
“There, good as new” he said, staring right through Cabels sunglasses and into his eyes. Not once had Cabel ever seen his brother blink.
“You disappoint me” Sain went on “Hiding down here from your duties. Not seeing the world as you should” He plucked off Cabels glasses and flung them too the floor.
“I don’t much care for what I see” Cabel replied.
“Judgment is a divine responsibility. And we have both been proven right too many times to question ours. Remember the child you refused to kill, and all the evil and death she wrought?”
“You would not kill her either”
“Well, we were both weak back then. Both hoping that we were wrong or sick in the mind. But while I have grown strong enough to shoulder this burden, you remain weak. And so here I am, to set you back on the right path”
Sain went back to the barman and pulled the knife out. He handed it to Cabel. The handle was fashioned to resemble an eagle, with dark red ruby eyes set in. Cabel stared at it a long time.
“Come brother, there is work to be done” Sain put his arm around Cabels shoulder and steered him to the door. Cabel stopped, and looked his brother dead in the eye.
“I wish you weren’t always right” he said, and thrust the blade through his brothers unblinking gaze. He pushed deeper and harder, bearing the twitching, flailing form to the ground. Push and bleed and push.
He stood up and looked down. One of the rubies had fallen out of the dagger. Cabel gave a grim smile, went to the duke box, and made a selection. It booted up and he sang along with it.
“No one knows what it’s like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes”
He ripped out his eyes from their sockets and put his sunglasses back on. Then he walked out, unwilling and unable to look back. If he could, he would have seen Sain’s one remaining eye give a last twitch in the form of a wink.
Some time later, when a passer by had seen the bodies and made the call, the police and ambulance arrived. A search of Sain’s body revealed he had an organ donor’s card.
His dark dark sunglasses slid down his face and he hastily adjusted them. Through the black monochrome that he saw the world, he tried to read his book. He had to hold it very close to his face to make out the words. The cover was gone from it. It had been carefully torn it off when he bought it. Why did authors insist on having their pictures on their work?
The barman, for want of anything else to do, turned the television on and Cabel swivelled on his stool so his back was to it. He was well practised in blocking out certain parts of the world. What he couldn’t block out though, was the rough shove he received that sent him falling off his perch, arms flapping wildly.
Picking himself off the floor, he adjusted his sunglasses again and looked at the big biker boots of the person that had pushed him.
“Yes?” he said
“Why'd you turn your back on the game, you prick?”
“I don’t follow it” he told the boots
“It’s cause we scored, you sectarian bastard. Wasn’t it?”
“No”
“Shut up” The boots arms grabbed him and spun Cabel around so he faced the TV “Now watch the replay of this amazing belter of a goal”
Rough hands ripped Cabel’s sunglasses off and the gloom of the bar pierced his eyes. He blinked rapidly and then shut his lids tight, but not before seeing a whole sea of faces on the TV. He felt sick, like eels and snakes were fighting and fucking in his stomach. He was spun round again.
“Now” said the owner of the big boots and the heavy hands. “Tell me that wasn’t poetry in motion, you wee fuck”
The rapid spinning proved too much for Cabel and he emptied his stomach onto the broad chest in front.
“Sorry” he said, hurriedly bending down to pick up his glasses.
A vicious kick greeted him and the shades were broken against, and with, his nose. Cabel's head shot up in pain and for the first time he met his assailant’s eyes. No no no no…
But it was ok, and he breathed a sign of relief as he received kicks and punches from someone that didn’t have to die.
When the man had left, Cabel picked himself up and went to the bathroom to clean the blood off. He did this in the closed stall with water from the toilet basin, just in case anyone surprised him. reaching into his jacket, he pulled out another pair of opaque glasses from a bundle that hadn't been damaged by the beating. Satisfied with this, he went back out.
The bar had gone silent, except for the sound of channels being changed in rapid succession. And the scratch of someone furiously scribbling down notes. He risked looking up. The barman lay slumped over the table with a knife in his back. And standing over him, nonchalant and with eyes fixed on the TV, was Cabel’s brother, Sain
“Hey coward” Sain said, not shifting his gaze. “Still failing to live up to your gifts I see” he gestured towards the barman. “And I bet you haven’t been doing any homework either” Scribble scribble went the pen.
“What I don’t know can’t hurt or haunt me” Cabel replied
“Then why is your nose broken?” Sain put his notebook away and walked over to him. He grabbed Cabel’s nose and twisted it left with a crack.
“There, good as new” he said, staring right through Cabels sunglasses and into his eyes. Not once had Cabel ever seen his brother blink.
“You disappoint me” Sain went on “Hiding down here from your duties. Not seeing the world as you should” He plucked off Cabels glasses and flung them too the floor.
“I don’t much care for what I see” Cabel replied.
“Judgment is a divine responsibility. And we have both been proven right too many times to question ours. Remember the child you refused to kill, and all the evil and death she wrought?”
“You would not kill her either”
“Well, we were both weak back then. Both hoping that we were wrong or sick in the mind. But while I have grown strong enough to shoulder this burden, you remain weak. And so here I am, to set you back on the right path”
Sain went back to the barman and pulled the knife out. He handed it to Cabel. The handle was fashioned to resemble an eagle, with dark red ruby eyes set in. Cabel stared at it a long time.
“Come brother, there is work to be done” Sain put his arm around Cabels shoulder and steered him to the door. Cabel stopped, and looked his brother dead in the eye.
“I wish you weren’t always right” he said, and thrust the blade through his brothers unblinking gaze. He pushed deeper and harder, bearing the twitching, flailing form to the ground. Push and bleed and push.
He stood up and looked down. One of the rubies had fallen out of the dagger. Cabel gave a grim smile, went to the duke box, and made a selection. It booted up and he sang along with it.
“No one knows what it’s like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes”
He ripped out his eyes from their sockets and put his sunglasses back on. Then he walked out, unwilling and unable to look back. If he could, he would have seen Sain’s one remaining eye give a last twitch in the form of a wink.
Some time later, when a passer by had seen the bodies and made the call, the police and ambulance arrived. A search of Sain’s body revealed he had an organ donor’s card.
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