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..:: CONTENTS ::..
   Volume V, Issue II

..:: POETRY ::..

..:: PROSE ::..
..:: OTHER ::..

..:: ETC ::..
   Contributor's Notes

..:: ARCHIVES ::..
   Volume I, Issue I
   Volume I, Issue II
   Volume II, Issue I
   Volume II, Issue II
   Volume III, Issue I
   Volume III, Issue II
   Volume IV, Issue I
   Volume IV, Issue II
   Volume V, Issue I


War, O yes!
Paul Kavanagh


(Extracts from the reports of Melia)

Rubber men fall like snow flakes

Peter is jubilant. He keeps jumping up and down and flapping his arms like a bird. Captain H. is jubilant also. Peter shot down a helicopter that was transporting troops from one side of the city to the other. “The helicopter dissipated into the azure,” said Peter. “It was beautiful.” Yesterday we caught a tank in a cul-de-sac. It blew up like a Chinese firecracker. When we looked into the holes of the smoldering mess we saw that the men inside had been turned into an oily black substance that clung tenaciously to the buckled walls. We watched the oily black substance drip onto the floor of the tank and form pools that were iridescent. The tank did not smell of death, it reeked of burning rubber. When we told Captain H. he laughed and said, “What did I tell you. They are not like you and me. When we burn we burn like candles.” We started to clap because we were all happy. The last two days have been wonderful. “Those troops fell like snowflakes,” said Peter, finally resting.

The trouble with Myrmidons

“Get off your fat arse,” bellowed Captain H.. I stood up. “What have been doing?” asked Captain H.. I showed him my bloody nails. I had been popping lice. When you pop lice they make a funny noise. “You need to find some vinegar,” said Captain H.. “Why?” I asked. “Lice hate vinegar,” said Captain H.. Peter put down his book and stood up. “Achilles and his Myrmidons are standing by the Walls of Troy and are wildly scratching under their armpits. Achilles wants to fight, but his Myrmidons are refusing. Achilles it seems can multitask, whereas his Myrmidons cannot,” said Peter. Of course, he continued. Peter is verbose. “Come on, there is killing to be done,” says Achilles. “Not now,” says one of the Myrmidons. “But there is raping and pillaging to be done,” says Achilles. The Myrmidons are pulling silly faces and scratching crazily under their armpits. Achilles traps a louse and crushes it between his thumbnails. The louse pops. Achilles’ thumbnails are covered in blood. He licks his thumbnails and wipes them clean on his swimming trunks. “Did you see that,” says one of the Myrmidons. “Disgusting,” says another Myrmidon. They exchange grimaces. Achilles ponders the question: what happened to the sycophants? Yesterday if he had said, does my hair look good, one of the Myrmidons would have undoubtedly said, of course, there is nobody as beautiful as Achilles. “The world is falling apart,” says Achilles. He ensnares another louse. He thinks about allowing the louse to escape from his trap, but he can’t, he is Mighty Achilles. Pop goes the louse. Achilles’ thumbnails are covered in blood. He licks his thumbnails and wipes them clean on his swimming trunks. Now Achilles’ swimming trunks are full of stains. Yesterday one of the Myrmidons would have offered to wash Achilles’ swimming trunks, but not now. The Myrmidons are too busy scratching under their armpits. “I want to remove heads, I want to spill guts, I want to rape, I want to kill,” says Achilles. Peter stops, but not for long, like Achilles he can’t help himself. He was once top of the class, I am talking about back in school. “Agamemnon has sent me to find out why you are not raping and killing,” says Odysseus. Achilles points to his Myrmidons. The Myrmidons are busy scratching under their armpits. Achilles digs deep into his armpit and produces a louse. “I thought you were going to produce a rabbit,” says Odysseus. Only Odysseus laughs at the bad joke. “They can’t multitask,” says Achilles. Odysseus starts to mess with his beard. He can’t help himself. Odysseus’ beard is long and matted. It was once orange, now it is grey. Hearing all this nonsense about lice I find one and crush it between my finger and thumb. I miss the nit nurse. She was brutal, but she did a great job of clearing out the lice. Now my nails are all stained with lice blood. “Hera has unleashed this plague of lice,” says Achilles. “Hera,” says Odysseus. Achilles nods his head gingerly, not wanting to unlock his golden locks. “Lift up your arms,” says Odysseus. Achilles lifts up his arms as instructed. “Yes,” says Odysseus. Achilles and his Myrmidons are perplexed by Odysseus’ yes. We are perplexed by Peter’s story. “I don’t get it,” said Henry, pulling that idiot’s face. I’ve told him a thousand times that he best keep that face in the draw, if they catch him they will undoubtedly place on the Christmas tree. “Everybody knows that Turkey has the best beaches in the world and Hera enjoyed sunbathing and watching the male hunks stuttering up and down those glories beaches of Turkey,” said Peter. “Shut your hole,” barked Captain H.. “I still don’t get it,” said Henry. “You’ve read too many books,” I said. “Now Hera is a woman and no woman while sunbathing and watching the male hunks stuttering up and down those glories beaches of Turkey wants to see hairy armpits.” Captain H.. belted Peter and knocked him onto the ground. It was one hell of a punch. He knocked out three teeth, no four. I am bad at math.


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