The Furry Chronicles Headline Animator

Thursday, October 18, 2007

When do Furries get interested in blowin' shit up??


Hi all, It’s Friday afternoon in good ol’ Melbourne town. I’m feeling really fucked today, so, to entertain my small brain, there is going to be an imaginary change to the SOP’s this week. Instead of being on the floor at “The house of Fur & Purple love” (suburb residence), I’m imagining it at “Chez Fur” (beach house).

I’m also imagining it finished (like that’s ever gonna happen), so ….. It’s time to assume the SOP, (standard operating procedures but different location). The SOP’s are,

Those who have weak pelvic floors, off you go to the potty; we don’t want puddles should you laugh. Those who want a drink, glasses in the cupboard, coffee mugs next to ‘em, kettle on the bench, white wine & the milk are in the fridge, red in the pantry, bourbon in the cupboard, ice in the freezer.

While you’re up, some one grab Uncle Furry a big glass, chuck in ½ a dozen ice cubes, fill it up with bourbon Pull up a bit of floor & relax.

Grab my smokes, & smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, yeah, yeah, Uncle Furry is lacking self control & discipline, yeah, yeah, keep whingeing, I’m listening, yeah, yeah, take a sip from the cup of “shut the fuck up” and let me get back to my story.

People, especially here, wonder, “when do Furry’s become interested in things that go BOOM?” Honestly, there isn’t a point where one goes, “Hey wait a minute, I’m interested”

It’s more like experiences like the one below that join with other experiences, that eventually become part of a stock pile, that eventually become an interest.

I mean, Sir Hilary, a great man, very intelligent, climbed Everest because it was “there”. (He’s not a Furry though, actually he’s a bit of a pussy. He wore all that winter gear. Ask PG what I wear in winter, I mean, it would have been far easier to fly over Everest.

So, based on that rationale, Furry’s blow shit up, because, well it’s there. Sure it’s easier to walk around it, but, NOWHERE near as noisy!)

Now, when Furry was a young lad, (Furry under development), he went to a not so classy secondary school. Today it’s called, “Noble Park Secondary College”, in my day, it was Noble Park High.

It’s in a Southern suburb of Melbourne, and was in those days, a shit hole, and probably still is today. I was at school when we called it Forms, not Years, and, as my 16 yo loves to tell me, that was in the period after Margaret Thatcher, but prior to Jurassic Dinosaurs.

Well I was in form 3D in the last year there. (That was prior to me being asked to leave, because I was such a good student). Form 3D was the dumping ground for a variety of “naughty” lads (all 32 of us), and 4 unfortunate lassies, (this was a real shock, and these girls were really well behaved before they got into Form 3D).

To give you an indication of how bad this place was, the Police turned up to school in a Ford XB interceptor (THE ultimate in pursuit cars at the time) because one of our classmates got busted shoplifting & wagging class.

Well my best mate Paul had dented his mother’s XB boot lid when he closed it with the lawn mower not properly stowed. He was threatened with the cost of repairing “such damage”. Well, the Police car exactly the same colour, and therefore, the boot lid was quickly relocated to Paul’s mum’s car, at no cost to Paul.

The Headmaster (called Principle now days) was quite animated about the attack on “socially acceptable moral standards” at next Monday’s assembly. Demands were made that the culprits come forward, or, their identities be disclosed to a teaching staff member.

Well that never happened, and we just saw it as Paul saving some cash. And Paul’s mum stopped nagging about the damage, so where was the problem? Hey, we even got a special treat for fixing the car, so again, where’s the issue?

Further, we’ve all had partners in crime. Well Paul was mine. A classic example was Paul’s dad used to get really pissy about next-door's homing pigeons shitting on the garage roof. The guttering would block when it rained. So we took it upon ourselves to “assist” in the issue.

We got seed, mixed it with some of Paul’s dad’s Vodka, (his nightly drink), and feed it to the birds. We’d do this on a Saturday, sell the birds on a Sunday at Dandenong market, the birds would sober up & all be back home by Wednesday night. At $5 a pop, almost every weekend, for about 20 birds at a time, we cleaned up big time.

Oh yeah, we convinced Paul’s dad that Vodka can & does evaporate when the seal is broken.

Now, Furry was then, and previously, and still is, the class clown. It was the first week of the very new school year; we were in Science for the first time. We had a teacher called Mr W. Mr W was a huge (exceptionally tall & broad). Now Mr W had a speech impediment, and Furry was copying him.

His issue was “S”; he pronounced it as “SH”. So “sit down” was hysterical. So, here was young Furry, being a smart arse, mimicking poor Mr W, when all of a sudden Mr W roared “Are you taking the pish out of me shun?” (Translation are you taking the piss out of me son?) The class fell completely quiet, sure that the young Furry’s life was about to be terminated.

Well fearing for my life, (did I mention he was a big son of a bitch?) with MR W glaring at me, I answered the only way any self-respecting, close to imminent death, Furry could.

“Shit no shir, itsh an shpeach inpediment & actually I’m quite embarreshed about it”, and with fluttering doe eyes Mr W melted. “Well shit down shun & shtop shtuffing around”.

Now, I’ve matured a lot since then, and don’t EVER make light of someone else’s plight. But now, I had now created a rod for my own back, for every time I spoke to Mr W, I had to have a speech impediment.

So, to make matters worse, I had to interact with Mr W on his own, because I didn’t have this impediment anywhere else. So in his class, I HAD to behave myself, because the “Bertrum Cruiser” & “The Hunter” (nicks for the Assistant & Headmaster at the time) knew exactly how I spoke, so the gig would be up.

Anyway, this particular day we were, (Paul, myself & two other unfortunate souls), had a series of practical experiments to do. Very strict guidelines needed to be adhered to ensure that there was no contamination of results.

Well, and this was when I was a little disrespectful of the fairer sex, took this opportunity to, well, ummm, try (unsuccessfully) to get into the pants of one of the 4 young ladies in my class.

Well, there we all were, typical little males, sniffing around when Mr W announced, “You boysh, have you finished your exshperimentsh yet?”, “No shir” I replied, “”How many have you done?” asked the increasingly annoyed Mr W. “We’re closh to finishing our firsht one shir” was my answer. “Well you’d all better shtop shtuffing around or you’ll go fucken hungry at luncsh time, caush thatsh when you’ll finish them!” was his agitated reply. “FUCK, we got ten minutsh,” said I and we launched into action.

The required “strict guidelines” were slightly adjusted. Instead of scraping the plate clean, washing it thoroughly, using ethanol to dry it & then doing the next experiment, with very carefully measured quantities, we just kept piling chemicals on top of each other & heating the shit out it as quickly as possible.

Now the normal method of heating was a Bunsen burner under the plate, because we had so much shit piled on the plate, we heated it with flame, from above.

At, or about experiment # 7 out of 12, there were 4 Furrys crowded around the prac, scribbling furiously, with one of us with the Bunsen burner in hand heating, when we heard, “Cool, look at the purple & green fluoro smoke”. Three heads lifted at exactly the same time & BOOM!

There was a huge scorch on the roof, 13 lower level windows were blown out, 7 upper level windows blown out, and 7 special glass display windows were shattered.

Across the classroom were 4 Furrys, school jumpers smoldering, no eyelashes, hair smoldering, and faces black as the “ace of Spades”. Deathly quiet descended, “Cough, cough” was heard from one of the Furry’s & then, these words of wisdom from me …………

“Fuck me, that wash great, did anyone get the reshipe”, Mr W’s reply was sensational. “You’ve fucked it now boysh, itsh off to “The Hunter” you go”. Well, if I remember correctly that was 2 weeks suspension, and $3,000 damage to the Science wing.

That’s when I realised; I could blow shit up, without even trying.

Have a great weekend, it’s 3.30pm in Melbourne & at 4.00pm I’m outta here.

Big, BIG kisses

Uncle Furry.

No comments: