Panda Kabobs

So here I am, sitting in my loft office pondering what to write. Perhaps I should tell the tale of just how my office came to be in such a disastrous state, as tweeted yesterday, or maybe show off this new German stock that I am thinking about offering up as a one time thing… Then the txt message comes into my phone “Can Mickey come out and play? The moustketeers want to splash in your (golden) shower”

Oh now there is a mental image. Monk and a couple of mouse eared cuties splashing about in his piss while he makes lewd commentary in that high pitched mouse voice.

Yeah, that is so brimming over with wrongablity that you just have to smile at it. Funny thing is, I never in a million years thought I would be asked to do watersports play as much as I do or enjoy it as much as I do. Few things make me cackle with such evil glee.

But why? You ask. Good question, one that I still can’t fully form in my own head. On the one hand there is the sheer taboo of it. The outrageous and naughty pleasure of doing something “dirty” and reveling in it. What can I say, I’m big on the whole “revel in your filth” kinda guy. And then there is the more symbolic and primal aspect. The marking of another, leaving your scent as it were. The beast in me understands this …primitive desire.

And then, then there is the whole dishevelment and destruction aspect. On rare occasions I meet a person and they just make my fangs come out. Something about how they move or smell or react to my topping energy just makes me want to do very, very bad things to them. I joke that it feels as if I want to kill a panda, eat it’s still beating heart raw, burn down a national monument, piss on the still smoldering embers and then go have ice cream.

It is one thing to want to play with someone, a whole other to want to simply destroy them…