Knuckle sandwich. And the weird christian i followed for about ten minutes

Luckily I just walked past a guy on the street who yelled out
'Hey! I'm A Christian!'.
I pretty much thought 'Good for you.' and kept walking, and then he yelled it again. So I thought
'This is getting pretty annoying now.'
And then guess what? He yelled it again, and I thought
'Who gives a flying crap. I dont walk down the road telling people that I have brown hair.'
And then he yelled it out again, but by then he was getting a bit further out of earshot so it started to become less annoying so I thought:
'Ha. This is kind of funny now, that idiot has just yelled out 'Hey! I'm a christian' five times in a row, I wonder how many more times he will yell that out.'
And then I felt like turning around and following him to see how many times he was going to say it before he stopped.
So I did.



After following him down the road for about ten minutes and counting him yell out
'Hey! I'm A christian!' 33 times I got pretty pissed off because I realised I had been walking the wrong way for ten minutes and had totally forgotten to go to my haircut appointment. Which is where I was heading when I first met that Christian.
I couldn't really be bothered turning around and walking back up the hill so I i texted my hairdresser to tell her I was hungover and couldn't make it to the haircut. This was much easier than having to explain to her via text message that I had been following a guy yelling out 'Hey! I'm A Christian'.
Because I was pretty bored I decided to go and look at the book shop, but after I had flicked through some magazine called Cowboys And Indians with Tom Selleck on the cover there was nothing good left there to look at,



so I went into a shop called Knuckle Sandwhich to buy some food, purely because the name is brilliant. The food was 'ok', but it was worth it just to have dined there. Even though the woman who served me didn't really have a clue about anything I had to ask her.
'Hello, welcome to Knuckle Sandwich how can I help you?'
'Hi. I would like a sandwich with lamb and also all the main vegetables. How many sauces are you allowed?'
'Two. Or you can pay an extra fifty cents per extra sauce.'
'Oh yeah. That is pretty standard with sauces really isn't it?'
'I'm not sure.'
'Well that is mainly the way these days isn't it? Two sauces for free etc?'
'Sorry, i don't really know.' She smiled nervously. Maybe because I was wearing my summer trenchcoat I suppose and asking about the sauces. But it was still pretty annoying she wasn't on my W.L (wavelength, or wave-o for short)
'Well I would like mint sauce and also some mayonnaise.'
'Ok that will be 8.50 thank you, would you like a drink?'
'I am ok thanks. If you guys served milkshakes then I would order one. Not many places serve milkshakes anymore do they?'
'I'm not sure.' Nervous laughter. I wanted to say 'Quit it with the nervous laughter.' but instead I said
'Knuckle Sandwich is a great name for a sandwich shop. That is the reason I came in here, I wasn't even really hungry to be honest. Who came up with that name 'Knuckle Sandwich' for this sandwich shop?'
'I'm sorry I really don't know. There is more than one Knuckle Sandwich, so maybe the guy who started the Knuckle Sandwich chain.'

Well if I was that guy who had come up with the name Knuckle Sandwich for all these sandwich shops I would have felt like giving this girl a knuckle sandwich for being my employee and not knowing my name.
She was polite, but so uninformed and complacent that I was inspired to take my sandwich elsewhere to eat it. AKA Walking down the road dropping a couple of pieces of coleslaw on the concrete and then kicking them to the side of the pavement.

'This sandwich is ok. But not great.' I thought to myself and then decided I would hail a cab when I had counted that I had walked 150 steps closer to my destination (which would have saved me about 20 cents, give or take a cent or two) on my cab fare.

My cab driver was pretty amazing, as many taxis drivers tend to be. The name on his taxi driver identification card on the windscreen was 'Malcol' . I assumed that it was short for Malcolm as many taxi driver IDs seemed to have letters cut off the end of their names, but just in case it was his real name I called him Malcol. After we broke the ice with the main questions (Who has your day been mate? What time did you start? What time do you knock off? Have you been busy? Must be awesome when you get called to take someone out to the airport?) we got to talking like two interested in each other human beings.



'So, Malcol, how often do you guys get to renew your identification cards?'
'Around once every five years.'
'That's pretty good I suppose.'
Then I looked out the window at some rollerbladers and cursed myself again for not carrying my slingshot with me at all times. Especially since two of them were holding hands so i could have aimed for where their fingers were linking.
Soon enough I was home, and Malcol rounded down on how much I owed him. So I gave him a tip of around one or two dollars and said
'Thanks a lot Malcol' and closed the door.
Then I walked inside and looked on Facebook and saw my friend had written on his page:
'I saw a goat's dick and now I can't stop thinking about it.' Which I thought was admittedly pretty funny.

Sick Again and a summary of places Kenny Powers The Pig tends to puke

Well what do you know, I am sick again. For the second time within one month. But this time it is serious, well not deadly serious, AKA It isn't AIDS and it isn't AIDS 2, but it is not as minor as the 'common'. I guess you would say it is the flu as all my bones are stinging and also I have been shivering and/or sweating through the night.
It will take me 50 or 60 rolls over in bed before I get close to being comfortable, so after i have busied my self looking like some kind of thrashing bed walrus I will then carry into the night to have hallucinogenic dreams where i am either:
a) in the desert with no water and a plane flies over and drops some water BUT coincidentally a massive eagle with a huge greedy beak flies under neath it and collects all the water that i thought would fall on me. And I pull out my trusty slingshot BUT I have no stones or berries to fire at the cursed (pronounced cur-sid) beast.



or
b) I am so totally thirsty and running a marathon and as I run past, my supporters give me deliciously full water bottles and pat me on the shoulder, BUT as opposed to refreshing H20 or juice, the bottles are filled with either salt water, or sometimes warm blood, which as you probably know are not thirst quenching at all really. So then i get fed up and decide to shoot a flare gun at the next idiot who comes up to me with salt water, no exceptions. BUT it is a little kid. So I shoot him. And he explodes, and I keep running, and admittedly my remorse is pretty minimal because all I keep thinking about is how I wished he had given me some god damn juice.




For your information I would never shoot a kid in real life with a flare gun. Unless he was badly injured and I was trying to P.H.O.O.H.M (put him out of his misery). Anyway, being sick is actually not the best feeling in the universe, and the most annoying thing about the flu is the fact that everything you eat tastes like metal. Chicken sandwich = Metal sandwich. Tomatoes = wet red squishy metal. Roast beef = metal. Not that I would know what the latter tastes like as my mother AKA The Morning Stomper has a pretty strict policy of Rotisserie Chicken for all, for ever, for the whole family, for all meals.
There are currently two different rotisserie chickens in the fridge. I will not go near them though and would rather live off of grass and/or the drippings from the ceiling than eat another one of those things in any way shape or form.
I have taken to wandering down the hallway at night to look in the cupboard and fridge to check and see if my brother has some form of filing system to hide all the good food until I go to bed and then sneak it back out once I have retired, but alas, it is not so. But, I have gone off on a tangent again, the metal, thats what I was talking about.
One item that doesn't seem to taste like metal when you are sick is juice. It is though it will alway stay the same, (thank the lord) and being sick is the perfect excuse to really over indulge in juice, and it really is your god given right to drink around 3 litres of it in one day. And let the vitamins flow through you.
My faithful ally Kenny Powers the pig has a certain sixth sense in regard to when I am sick or not and tends to keep to his corner of the room when it is the appropriate time. Whether he can tell this by my overall juice consumption or just due to my general demeanour I am not sure, but that is certainly one of the top five things I like about him and probably the reason why we are such a powerful and unstoppable team. A few of the other things that I like about him are (including the aformentioned) :
a) Using his sixth sense to keep to his corner when I am sick so as not to get up in my face when I am trying to get comfortable and have my own 'space'. (The aforementioned).
b) Being happy watching a video with me on the couch and not feeling like he has to get up every five seconds to go to the bathroom or ask me every five seconds what is happening with the plot of the movie (which is what girls tend to do and is very disruptive).
c) Being a great discussion point if you ever need to meet any of your friends in the park and there is a bit of an uncomfortable silence when you are sitting around talking
d) Being further inspiration to save up for a motorbike with a sidecar, where he would be my main passenger (wearing an airpilots leather hat, goggles and a scarf).



and last but not least
e) Not needing to be fed all the time. I will happily leave a box of Nutri Grains, a sack of normal grains and a giant Toblerone in his basket at the beginning of the week and he knows it is expected to last him four days before he will get his next 3 days worth of food. He has taught himself to portion, ration and plan, which is just another reason why people should confirm how intelligent pigs are. And Kenny Powers, I believe, is one of the smartest of all of those cute little guys.

Admittedly, although he tends to keep clear of me when I am sick, it is the absolute opposite when Kenny Powers the pig is sick or feeling 'poorly'. It is though I am a magnet for his puke when the shoe is on the other foot and he is unwell. Quite often when he eats a whole block of chocolate he will immedietly get sick and usually puke on my leather jacket, my duvet cover or on and around my ear if i am lying down. It is times like this when you have to rise above the anger and realise you are responsible, almost like a parent, to help your dependants when they are unwell. The best thing to do is slide him off the bed away from the puke and into his basket and read him a chapter from the Hobbit until he relaxes or stops puking.
I must say it was kind of annoying when we had first arrived at the Auckland airport on our way home from Berlin via Korea and it came to my attention that Kenny Powers the pig had not travelled so well and had spent the second leg of the plane trip home puking all over himself in his cage in the cargo hold. A gigantic Samoan woman working at the Auckland airport advised me that there was 'quite a mess that I would have to take care of' when I went to collect him from the quarantine area. 'Great', I thought as I cursed him again. 'All that pig is really good for is puking everywhere at innopportune times and collecting a few coins from between the cracks of the ground with his snout when we are really desperate for money'. But I put those thoughts aside after about a minute and realised I still loved him as much as a man could love a pig without it being 'sick'. And my anger subsided when I saw him sitting there in his cage with puke everywhere, in fact I must say I was impressed that he didn't look demoralised. It was quite the contrary really, he was wearing his usual facial expression of 'I may just look like a pig to you, but if I was a human I would be a Count with riches and esteem that spreads through the surrounding lands'.

I was not really looking forward to cleaning all the puke off him to be honest and thought about offering to pay my brother $35 to do it. But then I remembered I only had 45 euro cents to my name and that he had a very firm policy of 'No IOUs' since I borrowed $20 from his piggy bank when he was 8 to spend on refill vodka to drink at Ladies Bay.
I also thought that because I had not seen him in around six months I didn't want our first conversation to go like this:
'Hi'
'Hi. Thanks for coming to the airport with mum to pick me up.'
'That's ok. Where's your pig?'
'At the quarantine. He puked everywhere on the plane in the cargo hold.'
'That's pretty cool. Did you bring me some DVDs back from Germany?'
'No. I couldn't find any. I got you and mum a big Toblerone to share.'
'Wow thanks for the most predictable gift travelling people ever get for their family, and then dividing it in half between two people.'
'That's ok. Do you know what jetlag is, or are you too young?'
'Yeah I know what it is. Why?'
'Because I have jetlag and need to sleep, so, I think it would be pretty cool of you to clean the puke off that pig when we get home. It will be a good way for you two to meet each other and do a bit of bonding as he will be living with us.'
'I will clean the puke of that pig if you give me $100 cash up front and also you have to take me to the video shop to hire R16 Xbox games whenever I ask you to for the whole of summer.'
'I counter that offer with this offer: $35 cash IOU to clean the pig and I will go to hire the R16 games whenever you ask me, as long as I don't have a headache at the time.'
'No way in hell. Have fun cleaning that puke off your pig. And also have fun trying to convince mum to let him in the car with puke on him.'
He was getting wiser to my devious plans this boy.

In other news, what the fuck is this picture?

Kenny Powers The Pig finds me a ten dollar note and two gays Kissing.

If there is one thing I cant be bothered doing, that is
a)exercise
and/or
b) walking up steep hills trying to eat at the same time.
That is why today when I was sitting outside a bakery eating a chicken sandwich with my pig Kenny Powers (whose name and future bloodlines I now curse), I became extremely angry when he ran away from me and decided to go up a steep hill towards the park against my will and permission.
'Where the heck are you going you stupid jerk!' I yelled after him. He halted, looked around at me and then continued to walk up the hill while still making eye contact. I saw red and shook 'The Fist Of Angst' at the air and yelled towards him 'When I catch you you're dead Kenny Powers you stupid pig!'.


I decided I had to chase after him in case he got hit by a car or kidnapped because if he did then where would I be? I will tell you: standing in the middle of the road with a dead, half-trained pig and back to square one, just as far away from winning a prestigious Guiness World Book OF Records record as I ever was.
(In case you didnt know, we are in training for this record here, which we plan to have beaten within one year.
http://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/records/natural_world/animal_extremes/highest_jump_by_a_pig.aspx )

As I released a loud angry growl of frustration I made a snap decision and refused to leave my sandwich at the bakery while I chased after that moronic pig Kenny Powers, as odds are the woman behind the counter would come by and clear the table away and think my sandwich was left as rubbish. Or worse still, devour it as her own.
I already disliked her anyway as she reminded me of my true nemesis White Hair the lunch lady from my boarding school who would always serve me a smaller portion than the people ahead of and behind me in line. Therefore I C.B.B (couldn't be bothered) asking her lookalike to watch my sandwich while i went chasing after Kenny Powers the pig up what looked like one of the steepest hills in the city. Because no doubt she would have said 'No', or something equally annoying.
This meant that I had to carry the sandwich in my hand when I was walking up the hill chasing that damn pig, and as everyone probably knows, it is pretty hard to not eat a half eaten thing when it is sitting there in your hand beckoning you every one second to stuff it in your mouth. So I had to take bites as I was dealing with puffing and walking up the hill and being tired. Also to M.M.W (make matters worse) I stubbed my toe so bad that a flap had come off just like what would happen when you were a kid in the 80's. My toe started stinging and it made me so mad how 80's a move i had just made by stubbing my toe. I may as well have contracted an 80's disease like the Mumps or the Measles at the same time and shouted at my pig an 80's saying like 'Get Stuffed!' or 'You're Such A Twit'.

It was probably the most annoyed I had been all week, but I couldn't stop biting the sandwich, and with every tired breath and chew I cursed that pig with all my body and heart and took an oath to the sky and said 'He Will Feel My Vengeance aka My Wrath'. And when I got to the top of the hill there he was, just sitting there underneath a tree in amongst a bunch of fallen leaves by a bench where two gays were kissing on the lips.



They had also strategically parked their car with the door open and radio blaring right beside their 'getting with' seat, and it was playing MGMT. As I didn't want to interrupt them it was not the best time to start yelling at Kenny Powers the pig, so I took the last bite of my sandwich while breathing heavily and picked him up and walked back down the hill. I was squeezing him a bit tighter than I usually would so a) he wouldn't run away and b) to give him slightly sore ribs as punishment for making me walk up the hill eating.
I released my grip a bit when I noticed an M&M wrapper and also a ten dollar note stuck to his hoof. That brought down my anger factor from around 9.4 to about 6.1, and it further dropped to about 3 because I realised that seeing the gays kissing had reminded me that it was the Ginger's birthday, and that every birthday he would get a kiss on the lips from his dad, and now he was 31, and still getting a kiss on the lips on his special day. I sniggered at the thought of it and said to Kenny Powers
'I will spend that ten dollars on snacks from the petrol station and as punishment you will only get 30% of what I buy as opposed to the usual 45/55 split. But I am not angry anymore which is the main thing.'
He looked up at me with one of his looks which I knew to mean either
a) 'I understand, apologies for running off'
or
b) 'When In Rome'
Either way, we were friends again. So I started drifting off and thinking about something else. If I remember correctly it was how at a party the other night I had tried to convince a bunch of people that the basketball player Magic Johnson had beaten AIDS.



Or, was no longer testing HIV Positive after being diagnosed with the virus in 1991 just before my mum and stepdad got married. Either way, i did not know enough about the facts of him beating AIDS and could not back up my argument so the people at the party thought I was probably a real moron. But screw them as they were talking about boring crud in the first place hence why I had to bring up AIDS, which is always a pretty good ice breaker.