I used to be yakuza but not anymore. I was kicked out because of a tattoo.

I wanted to compose a tribute for the Oyabun, a haiku to celebrate his heroic exploits and boundless charisma. Endowed with this as a tattoo, I would be showing him the gravity of my devotion, my unquestioning firmness to serve him unto death.

Unfortunately, my handwriting sucks so the tattooist misread the haiku. Instead of the kanji for ‘handsome’ he tattooed the kanji for ‘unpleasant’. You can see how the fault is mine.

Or maybe the Oyabun didn’t like me showing him my balls?

© All rights reserved 2020

THE ABCs OF A PECULIAR LIFE // C is for Casuistry & Criminy

Little Sophia was the perfect little angel.

“Young lady, I thought I told you not to eat after six!”

“But this one’s only my fifth!”

Pensive Parabellum shook his head ruefully. Little Sophia was clearly in the wrong but she also never ceased to delight. Standing there with her hand balled into a tight little fist around the last cookie in the jar, she hadn’t missed a beat in delivering her response.

There was no guilt or remorse in her eyes. No shifty expression. No tell-tale blink. Nothing. She simply wasn’t about to take ownership of her wrong.

“I meant after six o’clock, and you know it, young lady!”

“Yes, Grandad.”

Criminy, she was good!


A loud, obnoxious pop. Sophia was chewing bubble gum again, and with that same practiced, scornful look. It was a look that announced her world weariness for all the world to see. That less of a shit could be given.

Still, Sophia was Grandad’s perfect little angel. An angel sporting an ugly, beaked skull with black wings between her dainty shoulder blades.

Pensive Parabellum harrumphed. Like any grandparent, he was mortified. This was not behaviour worthy of a well-brought up teenager.

“Dolce, why did you get this stinkaroo on your back?” he asked, indicating her tattoo.

“Because there wasn’t enough space on my chest.” Another obnoxious pop.

Pensive Parabellum didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

Criminy, she was good!


“Blond? Brunette? Or red?”

Pensive Parabellum looked up from the half-empty mug to fix his buddy with a stony stare. The last pint, apparently, was excess. He hadn’t counted on that.


His buddy guffawed and clapped Pensive Parabellum on the shoulder.

“You’re getting old, soft cock!”

Pensive Parabellum shook his head as if to clear it. Yes, he was definitely seeing double. He shook it some more. This bucks party was well and truly in full swing, and he was barely keeping up.

“So, blond? Brunette? Or red? Don’t keep ’em waiting, mate!”

What was he choosing? Pensive Parabellum wasn’t entirely sure. He waved his hand helplessly. What he meant was ‘leave me alone’ but what he got was his buddy clicking his fingers and calling someone over.

“Hello, boys. Need a little amusement?”

Although the voice was a little rusty, it seemed strangely familiar. Pensive Parabellum turned, coming face-to-face with its owner’s fleshy, one-eyed stare. He looked up. Oh, it was the belly button of a tall, skinny brunette. Not only did she sound familiar, she looked a little familiar too. Or, maybe, it just was the alcohol haze filling his head.

“So, what’ll it be? A strip tease? Twerk? Or are you a lap dance man?”

And, as quick as you please, she turned her back and began making seductive waves with her exquisitely shaped buns. Pensive Parabellum stared dumbly as they swayed ever closer to his lap. Hey, was that dental floss between those two delectable mounds? Oh. No. She was wearing a G-string.

“Hot damn. I need to pee.”

Pensive Parabellum tried to get up. After a couple of aborted attempts and much bottom groping (purely for support purposes, of course!) he finally made it. The room erupted in cheers. This gargantuan effort had not only gotten him to his feet but had also moved his eyeline directly up the brunette’s spine to between her shoulder blades. What he saw there made his blood freeze.

An ugly, beaked skull with black wings.

“My Sophia!” he squeaked. “You would sell your body like a common whore?” He collapsed on the chair.

“Don’t grump, Grampy, I just wanted to buy you a little something for your wedding.” Sophia kissed his brow, adjusted her G-string and added, “Looks like I’m not the only one who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar, hmmm?” She walked off with a coquettish side glance and a playful jiggle of her cheeks.

Criminy, she was good!

© All rights reserved 2018

Teti-à-Tête (With Tony) #4


Tati as TATI


Tony as TONY

“He Had it Coming”

Set in the lounge room of a cosy three-storey tree house in an unspecified fantasy location.

TONY is sitting in a comfortable armchair. He is reading a comic book.

Enter TATI. She is out of breath. Her eyes are crazed. Her spikey hair is even more so.

TATI: (speaking to TONY) Catastrophe! Tony, it’s just a catastrophe!

TONY rolls his eyes. He doesn’t bother getting up. TATI pulls this kind of shit every other week.

TONY: You’re such a drama queen.

He turns back to the comic in his lap. Nausicaä is about to face off against the Ohmu and he doesn’t want any distractions.

TATI: (thinking) Huh? What bullshit! You yourself are the drama queen, boy!

She stands over TONY, arms akimbo and staring daggers at him.

TATI: (speaking again) I was looking at our Amazon account, and someone has made our book free. Who did this? Was it you?

TONY shakes the daggers out of his hair. They thunk on the floor with such bloody minded literalness that TATI is forced to do some serious eye rolling of her own.

TONY: (sarcastically) Relax! It’s only for two days. You needn’t be stressing about causing a global financial crisis or something quite yet.

TATI feels like hitting TONY with a chair.

TATI: It was ninety-nine cents! Who do you think you are? Tony Rockefeller?

TONY’S brow crinkles like a sheet of corrugated iron.

TONY: (bluntly) I have no idea who that is. I mean, what the hell? You’re always making references to things I know nothing about. You know my brain can only hold one thing at a time. I’m a simple creature!

TATI: (smirking) Are you Anjezë Gonxhe Bojaxhiu? Blessed Tony of Calcutta?!

TONY: (really confused) I’m sorry? What the fuck?! No! I’m just me! Well, I thought I was anyways…

TONY scratches his head. He has no idea where this conversation is going.

TONY: (thinking) Someone ought to tell her that this free promotion is for our mutual benefit! All I’m trying to do is get more people interested in our book!

TATI: (thinking) Oh. Why didn’t he say so immediately?

That’s when TATI and TONY realise that they can hear what the other is thinking.

TONY: (thinking) Shit, I’d better be careful what I think and say from here on. Keep my thoughts pure!

TATI: (thinking) Pure? What do you mean ‘pure’? What have you been thinking, boy?

TONY: (thinking) NOTHING! I haven’t thunk a thing at all! I’m completely asexual. No genitals or anything. I’m like a Ken doll down there. Honest!

TATI: (thinking) Ugh! You’re such a pervert. You’re Hannibal Lecher!

TATI picks up the chair then decides not to hit him with it. She puts it down again. Sure, TONY has it coming but hitting him with a chair would be like kicking a mangy, defenseless dog in the head. She just cannot do it. She does, however, have one final thing to say before she leaves the room.

TATI: (speaking) It should have been five! Five days! Not only two days of free promotion. You always fuck up with math, Tony Boeotian!

TONY: (speaking) Who the hell is Tony… Boat Teeing?

TATI lets loose an exasperated sigh and exits the room. TONY is just as confused as he was before. He pauses a moment, then shrugs and turns back to his comic.


Don’t be shy! Let’s go! There are only two days left! Get your free copy of our first book ‘Mooreeffoc’! (Please, don’t upset Tati, because she might pick up the chair again.)

© All rights reserved 2016

Teti-à-Tête (With Tony) #3

(Dear readers, feel free to click on the image in order to embiggen it. Go on. Clicking things is fun. We promise!)

Guys, some of you may have missed the opportunity to get a flawed version of our first eBook Mooreeffoc. Alas, it’s now perfect, and the changes are now live. We can bet that you won’t find any flaws in it. A bet of ten gold pieces! *

* (No gold pieces were harmed in the making of this post.)

© All rights reserved 2016

Teti-à-Tête (With Tony) #2

(Dear readers, feel free to click on the image in order to embiggen it. Go on. Clicking things is fun. We promise!)

Guys, we know that, like us, some of you dream of being professional writers. We promise to tell you the details of this process, to share with you our experiences, and together come to our dream.

But we suspect that some of you are eager to try yourselves as literary critics. (It’s such fun to criticize others, don’t you think?) So, for those of you who want to test this… guys, we’re ready to be your Guinea pigs!

© All rights reserved 2016