http://www.thewildernessdowntown.com/#Lisboa,+Portugal

Back to work or not?

I’m not a lost case

Let me say before you read this, that is a tribute to Dewinter, and her confection of what she really thinks of me. To you DeWinter… Thanks for your honesty!



(John entered the Office, all in brownish colors with big book shelves filled with so many little files it was impossible to read them all in just a life time, and a big dark brown desk in front of a big window, on that desk there was a name tag and in it, it reads "Agent Eros")

Eros: SO! (Says a little man coming up from behind the desk) What brings you here?

John: I received a call, about my case…

Eros: All of you do. Tell me your full name and your case code, if you please.

John: My name is John Scar Kramer of Lioncourt… (Waits for the agent stops typing his name into the computer) and by case code is "L0V3-9U35T".

Eros: Huh hum… John Scar… (Searching for the file in the data base) Kramer of Lioncourt. Here it is! So let's see why you were called here, shall we? Hum hum… Oh dear! (Says Eros with worry all over his face)

John: What?! Is there something wrong? What is it?

Eros: I'm so sorry Mr. Lioncourt but it seems that this is a lost case…

John: a lost case?...

Eros: Yes, a lost case…

John: I don't understand… I… I am not that bad looking… and I'm only as depressive as everyone else and there are pills for that, I'm also not that bad in bed, and there's pills for that too, so… Why am I a lost case? I don't get it…

Eros: No that's not it Mr. Lioncourt, sorry I made a mistake…

John: Ah! (says relived) So I'm not a lost case, after all?

Eros: No, but… (is interrupted before continuing)

John: I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! (shouts!) You're just joking with me…

Eros: Mr. Lioncourt! Would you be so kind to SHUT UP and let me explain? (Irritated with all the shouting)

John: ok (says intimidated by the agents face)

Eros: What I meant to say earlier Mr. Lioncourt, is that You're not a lost case, in fact we don't know what you are… because we lost your case file, it's really unfortunate of you I think this is the first in the last sixty years or so…

John: You lost my case? That's not bad, right? You do have backups, don't you?

Eros: Backups? Backups?! Please Mr. Lioncourt, don't make me laugh.

John: So you don't have backups? ...

Eros: No we don't, there's over 6 thousand million people in the world, There's no space for backups

John: So no back up, what do I do now? Do I fill another case file?

Eros: Another file? No, no, no, you can't have another file, everyone only gets one and that's it.

John: So why am I here? You will search for the file, no doubt. So why call me here?

Eros: Search? Who do you think we are? Some bookworms of some sort?! Search! What a foolish idea. No Mr. Lioncourt, we're not going to search for your file and as for the reason of summoning it is so you fill in a D34T# form, so that we can declare this as a closed case.

John: What's a D34T# file?

Eros: It's just a form where you state that you fully abdicate of the rightful to spend the remaining of your life stream, and leave a recommendation to friends a family, if wish to do so.

John: What? Like a suicide note?

Eros: So you've heard of them…

John Scar Kramer of Lioncourt©2010

  

Summer it’s coming to its end and I leave the typing to a chimp.

The summer is at its end and I feel it. I like a cold shiver up my spine…

I don't know when it is the official date for declaring that we're not going through summer anymore, but I just feel it, and it's closing in very very fast. And also I feel very odd, I don't know how to explain it, but I feel like… uh … singing… (wait this isn't the odd part yet)… S.O.S by ABBA, and I don't have a freaking clue why, do you know? If you do please comment now.

Classes are about to start and with them a whole freaking lot shenanigans that you never worry about when it is summer. OH! For God's sake what shall I do?

"Where are those happy days, they seem so hard to find…" Where I go again singing that stupid song S.O.S.! S!O!S! Save my soul, save your soul, save our souls!…

What Am I doing? Singing a girlish song and it's not even to a girl, I singing it all alone in my bedroom… This is so gay. Real men don't do this, real men don't even remember the freaking song's lyrics, because of the so many times they've banged their head to the wall thinking about stuff, and women and more stuff, and boobs and stuff again. I know what I'm going to do…

(the writer steps away from the computer, steps to the nearest wall and bangs his head onto it… pum… pum …CRASK [and if you're wondering whose writing this, let's just say it's multi-personality to its best] the writer returns bleeding from his forehead, sits down and writes…)

I… I…? I was just there and now I'm here get aloud of me, I'm ama… (writer passes out without actually writing anything, that bit before? He just dictated it… well he just mumbled it in a way that it seemed he said that but the computer has no clue so just wrote that)

(Five days later)

"I can still recall our last summer/I still see it all / Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain / Our last summer /Memories that… remain?" Now this! Our last Summer? Gimme gimme gimme a m… Break? CHRIST? More ABBA? I must be ill.

Clearly bagging my head through the wall (hyperbole) didn't work, and ended up wasting 5 more days of summer… If I keep doing it I'll start singing "Slipping Through My Fingers" sooner than I hoped. I must think hard before my next move…

(after a day)

Eureka! This must be a sub-conscious response to donuts or to been the only one from the group that hasn't had a summer passion (even deWinter "got one" and she's a bitch [in her own words])… nah it's definitively donuts…

What can I say? The Winner takes it all (damn it I did it again!!!)

CMXCIX-DCLXVI=CCCXXXIII

Funny thing about Romans, they weren't any good at math. But very good at torture.

There will come a time when I will see my whole life flash before my eyes. And the reason I've been a little busy lately, is because I've been making this last month worth watching.