A while back we at nihil.co.za ran a frightening expose on a scurge in our fine nation. Tik (see the article here
), the menace that is terrorizing our youth and making the light bulb manufacturers of this country a bundle in profits (has anyone actually looked into this connection?) Anyway, we received tons of mails from concerned and shocked citizens, but the following one even concerned and shocked us. Luckily our public relations office is always there to offer unbiased views and good old fashioned advice.
Dear John T,
I was heartened to realise that I wasn't alone in my Tic hell. I am a mother of three who has lost two beloved children and am groping with the potential loss of another to this scourge. My twins, Heather and Gregory, (Gregory has been transgendered since he was five; an unfortunte accident involving my brother Philip and a power tool. Very sad. Greg is very well adjusted, even though admittedly his cock looks like an alien's arm. A small alien. very small.) fell into the evil grasp of Tic three years ago. I had entrusted them to Philip, my brother, who was at the time running a small entertainment venue down town. Unbeknownst to Philip and I, one of the performers was a tic addict and as I realise now is the case, He/she(don't ask) did the normal thing and encouraged anyone and everyone to join him/her in her private insanity. before I knew it, both greg and Heather were lost to me and were supporting their habits by modelling online. their site Shemaleincest.com is still up and running. To my eternal shame.
Jody (previously Jeremy), has begun using. At first i wasn't sure if the dissapearing light bulbs were just another sign of heather and Greg's housebreakings, but once I realised that their was an online live webcam marathon which they were running the entire weekend when I just know the verandah bulb dissapeared,I realised something was up.
Do you have any advice for someone in my position? How can I be an end to Jody's habit? What of my twins, their aunt Clarice, their uncle Philip, their father, the dog.
I have tried everything i can but am at the end of my tether. If it wasn't for the pills I don't know what I would have done by now!
You know, a funny thing just happened: I was sitting at my desk,
auditing our books and trying to hide the prostitute expenses, when I
heard a strange noise outside the window. Actually I'd been hearing it
for an hour or so, but had been too smacked up to care; now it was
bugging me. I swung the makeshift curtain (Mail and Guardian - 'Hansie
is Dead! Long live Hansie!') aside - dramatically - and found a
pigeon, heavy and swollen, fucking its reflection in the window, feet
splattered with its own ejaculate. This got me thinking of you.
Firstly, John, you have no-one but yourself to blame. Well, yourself
and God, but that shifty wanker has a legal team that scares even me,
so its all on you.
But there are a couple of things that you can do. Firstly, and I
thought this would have been obvious, you have to deal with the
supply. Not the tik supply, of course - you can't stop that. Even if
you managed to shut down the lab that supplies your strangely sexed
kids (according to our ledgers, thats probably the one at 23
Bloostings Street, second floor of the abandoned 7-11) another would
pop up to take its place, perhaps down the street in the old municipal
supply building, or across the river in the industrial district -
there's a lovely little plot over there: good water supply, beautiful
view, and three primary schools within walking distance. No John,
these evil Pied Pipers of the methamphetamine world will always be
able to produce more glinting crystal to lure your dear little rats away
But John, this isn't right-thinking! What else do Satan-sucking tik
junkies need? Thats right! Light bulbs! Now here's something that you
can control, but its going to take planning and co-operation throughout
your entire district. Here's what I suggest:
The crystal-ho types need those bulbs - where are they getting them?
Your light-fittings, as you've no doubt noticed. So step number one is
to stop using electric light. Paraffin lamps are too dangerous, and
besides, they're also too good a high to put in the path of the raging
addict. What you have to use is... candles! A return to basics will
stop them. So once you've convinced your entire municipal area to
switch to candle use, and stopped the shops from stocking any sort of
light bulb (60w, 100w, bayonet or screw, those great flat top-down
ones, long-life, florescent, nitrogen, and biological), you and your
neighbours might find that the light from the candles is weak and
ineffectual; don't quit now! A simple reflector constructed of tinfoil
and wrapped around the base of the candle will brighten the output by
three to four hundred percent - easily enough light to quicklime even
the most twisted of hooker corpses.
And now your problem is solved! Your (and your friends') kids will
never be able to lay hands on another light bulb in their short,
withdraw-ridden lives, and will instead forever be taunted by the
absolutely useless masses of candles and tinfoil that surround
them. Lets see the little bastards spark their fun-pellets on those!
Of course, John, I shouldn't be telling you this. There's obviously a
bigger problem at hand - and no, its not your sweet offspring's
trans-gendering: everyone experiments when they're young, don't they,
John? Don't they? The problem is this: there's only one thing that can
drive pure and saintly children into the hell that is tik usage (well,
two things, but there's nothing you can do about our LOW LOW PRICES!
FREQUENT TIKSTER MILES FOR REGULAR CUSTOMERS!) One thing, John: Bad
Parenting. Yes, I think its time you considered your role in this. I
mean, did you show them enough love when they were young? How often
did you show them this love? How forcefully? Did you naively rely on
the equipment that God gave you? Because trust me John, God skimped
out when it came to stocking the Twogoatsshagging hardware store. Did
you even consider demonstrating affection with any of the vast range
of tools and other supplies that we offer as a community service,
albeit a pricey and exclusive one? How are Heather, Gregory and Jodie
to know that you care for them if you didn't spend at least one
afternoon a week demonstrating that affection with one of the vast
range of clubs, pipes and chains that we stock in a conveniently
located distributor in your area? God himself said "spare the rod,
spoil the child", and I'm sure you listened, but did you do just
enough, or did you give all you had? What really made Heather and Greg
score those first straws? Thats right, John: their legs.
John, I think that you have much to consider. And once you've
finished, once you have those answers, you will know what do. And no
John, I'm not talking about suicide, its a sweet gesture, but
unfulfilling. What I expect from you is to go down the road, to take a
left at the lights, to take another left into the park, and to say to
Lucky, the African fella with the big hair, "Just a gram, man, the
brown stuff, mineral base." Tell him I sent you, and you'll even get a
Yours in tikstacy,
Peterson ‘Ntombi’ Bulo-McKray
PLO – nihil.co.za