Skeletor is GAY!

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My left shin (the muscle area) is killing me, (well trying to anyway, since it started on thursday morning). I still need to do my English tuition homework (WTH am I blogging in the 1st place?!), and it is due tomorrow, argh! Had fun at Geylang East Swimming complex yesterday, without being ragged (that badly). Plus, we did not get banned from the deep pool :) Nvm about that, nothing much happened today, I wanted to finish my homework today, but I practically procrastinated like there's no tomorrow. I will try to do it though, even though I might have to resort to burning the midnight oil.

Here's something to either cheer you up

...Where was I? Oh yes, Old Corkhill. A lovely chap, if you ignore the swearing fits and genocide. He never had a face of his own, you know - had to borrow other peoples. Used to make a hell of a mess when they glued 'em back on. I remember one time we got lost in a garden centre near Chepstow and he thought he was back in the jungle. How we laughed when the screaming stopped. Met a grisly death bless 'im... choked to death on a chess piece. From the highly collectable Alice in Wonderland set, too.
I remember when I bought my first chess set. I was about 23 and used to play for the Queen's regiment. Never won it though. I was trying to steal a set from all the different schools in London - they never notice if you take only one piece from each. I'd just got hold of my twelfth pawn when I realised I'd never fit a board up my jumper without the bloody prefects noticing, so I decided to invest in a legitimate set. I went to a lovely little shack by the sea where a lovely young lady was carving lovely little chess pieces out of lovely shiny rocks with a lovely glowing scalpel. We got talking and after a while we got married. Turns out she was a mermaid though... I only realised when I tried to tickle the soles of her feet and discovered she hadn't got any. I thought the vicar gave us some funny looks at the church. And Mother never did approve of her... "Never trust a woman without any toes," she used to say. She lived her life by that adage and By God did it show.
The marriage only lasted a few months before divorce. Or did I eat her? I never can remember. I definitely ate something... used to eat things all the time, come to think of it. My memories of that time are foggy, as the howler monkeys had just moved in next door and I couldn't get any sleep. The worst was when they used to smash through the windows and vomit in the kettle. Damned vicous things, howler monkeys. I complained to their Landlord but he just smashed my face in with a spade and killed my dog. Twice, if I remember - he shot it, brought it back to life using the unholy power of the cosmic bedpan and shot it again. Poor little blighter...a cairn terrier, if I remember. I ended up sneaking into his house and using the bedpan to invoke Belial, demonic master of the third ring of Hell. Belial appeared in a ghastly display of fire and brimstone, then went and had a word with the local council who evicted the monkeys. I still have his keys somewhere.
Speaking of keys, have you ever eaten cling film? I went through a period of buying pre-made sandwiches, throwing them away and eating the containers. God knows why, I think it was the fashion at the time. Like those hairstyles made of bones. And whatever happened to those combination hats and megaphones? They seemed so useful back then, but you never see them these days. I blame the parents.
On my 30th birthday Derek, my wife at that time, bought me an anvil. I'd always wanted one to keep on the top shelf above the Reader's Digests. It stayed up there for a few years then it fell off, bringing the wall down with it. I was in the room at the time - a damned mess, I can tell you. A brick hit me on the shoulder so hard that I travelled back in time and became my own grandfather.
After Derek died of boredom I tried looking for a new wife down the back of the sofa. A fruitless exercise, they were all tarts behind that third cushion. I became depressed and wandered the Sahara desert trying to find a letter S big enough to turn it into a dessert. It was near there that I met Susan. She went on holiday with her parents back in the thirties and accidentally stabbed a gypsy to death with her own clothes pegs. Before she died the gypsy put a curse on Susan, robbing her of her third dimension and turning her into a completely flat wallhanging. Her parents were dreadfully embarassed and took the first boat to Atlantis, which was quite a popular destination for embarrassed parents before it sank.
Anyway, I discovered Susan in a curio shop where she had spent the last 20 years. I was first attracted to the lovely guilded frame that she had been mounted on. But the shopkeeper wouldn't part with it, saying only the cursed girl was for sale. I kicked up quite a fuss, but he wasn't going to give in so I part-exchanged some boot polish for Susan and left. I think she was glad to be out from behind a sheet of glass. I rolled her up on the plane back to England and tried to pass her off as hand luggage, but they insisted that I purchase another seat. I got my own back though - I took the seats with me when we landed in London.
I bought a small house in Suffolk and became friendly with the neighbours. This turned out to be quite handy as they were extra-terrestrial creatures with the absolute power to control physical reality. It didn't do to get on the wrong side of them, I can tell you. Before they went back to their home planet they kindly restored Susan's third dimension as a leaving gift. I was using her to cover a stain on the bathroom rug at the time. She was ecstatic and married me immediately, which was handy for tax purposes. She ended up leaving me for the milkman though, as I still insisted that she covered the rug stain at all times. I mean, nothing gets port out - I should know.
It was about that time that England declared war on Narnia. We knew they had been massing forces behind the wardrobe for some time, and we had to invade them before they did the same to us. I was drafted into the army as a Sammy Davis Jr. look-a-like, which was a common infantry position at the time. I was amongst the first people to push back the coats and attack the Narnians. The early assaults were fantastic - the satyrs and talking animals stood no chance against our machine guns. But oh, how things changed. Before we knew it the magicians and dragons were upon us, and half the battalion was burnt to death whilst the other half were turned into ducks. Such a terrible waste. I only survived by confusing the Witch with a devious card trick and running for cover. We would never have taken down Aslan the Lion if the yanks hadn't bailed us out again. God, it was awful... The heat and the screaming and the fire and the smoke and the quacking... Uhh...
...Where was I? Oh yes, Old Corkhill. A lovely chap...