The Killer Kart On The Murder Motorway

Perhaps Not As You Imagined It, Though

Conrad frequently ends up in strange locations on the internet after following a positive warren of rabbit-holes, and last night was no exception.  I cannot remember how I got to ABC7 news, yet I did, and what caught my eye was an article about - actually, let Art show you what.

     This idiot was being 'escorted' by a couple of other cars, presumably so that he wasn't instantly killed by an 18-wheeler driving over him at 50 m.p.h.  Of course he took safety seriously, as his head is protected by a cloth cap that will help to keep the separate pieces of his cranium together in the event of a crash.  However - no lights, either at front or back, nor any indicators, either.

     And the reason this Darwin Award aspirant was putting his butt on the line?  He was doing it to create Youtube content.

     What he got was a charge of impeding traffic and unlawful operation.  And you know what?  Youtube would have pulled it the instant it was posted.

     Interestingly enough, Mister Chump was apprehended by the Californian Highway Patrol, whom Conrad always suspected of being fictional.  Not so, it seems.

     Motley!  Climb into this shopping cart and we'll tow you up Tandle Hill and then let go.

Killer Karriers Kausing Karnage!

I do like a bit of alliteration.  Yes yes yes, I have deliberately mis-spelled three words there; I don't need to tell you which, do I?

     ANYWAY I am still plodding through "The Story Of The Guards Armoured Division" because there is still fighting, occasionally very fierce fighting, going on in the land of the Teutons, despite it being 22/04/1945.  Art!

A Wasp

     This is the British Universal Carrier, a kind of two-ton Jeep-on-tracks that was fitted out for an immense number of tasks.  The Teutons gratefully used ones they captured until they died from lack of spare parts.  Lots were sent to the Sinisters, who grunted in a surly fashion about how rubbish they were, and then used 'em by the thousand.  And it's a 'Wasp' because those tanks on the back carry the jellied petrol and propellant gas that are emitted by the flame projector on the front.  Art!

     A terrifying little beggar.  The heavy weapons battalion of the GAD were the Northumberland Fusiliers, who had but recently been issued with these infernal engines.  In a short action at Rotenburg one of these carriers was sent forward to aid in clearing out a Teuton who had immobilised a tank with a Panzerfaust; this chap was another Darwin Award winner, as he peered out from behind his protective wall only to receive a faceful of flame.  The shock, rather than the flame, killed him on the spot and his sixty-three mates came rushing out to surrender.

"A piece of dirty old pipe can't possibly harm me ..."

We Resolve The Cliffhanger

If you recall - and you should do, you're not goldfish - we left Luma aghast at the sight of an apparition greatly resembling that of a dead schoolgirl he used to tutor, in "Tormentor".  Let us move on ...

‘What the hell are you?’

The being shivered.

‘Don’t use language like that, please.  As for what I am, you ought to be able to guess.’

‘A ghost?’ tried Louis, wondering how his mind could play tricks like this with him.  Did he overdose on sleeping tablets and end up with this horrifying illusion as a result?

‘A ghost is merely an ineffectual revenant, Luma.  I am what’s left of Jennifer Hargreaves.  Her spirit.’

Louis shook his head.

‘No, you’re not.  You’re the left side of my brain fooling the right side of my brain.  A diet of whisky and sleeping tablets has sent me completely insane.’

Ignoring whatever it was that sat on the bed, he swung his legs onto the floor and stood up.

The Jennifer-thing from the depths of his brain stood up, too.

‘Don’t touch me,’ warned Louis, shying away.

‘Why worry?  If I’m only an hallucination I can’t harm you, can I?’

Louis moved slowly towards the door and the main lightswitch.

‘Yes you can.  Obviously I’ve gone quietly mad already.  I’ve been doing things without being aware of them, and I probably murdered Jennifer too and – and - and this is my mind’s revenge against me.’

Now within arms-reach of the light, he turned it on.

The Jennifer-thing still stood at the end of his bed, now looking more substantial in the warm light from the ceiling-mounted candelabra.  If possible, it looked slightly sad.  Louis skirted it to get to the window and drew the curtains, trying to keep an eye over his shoulder just to make sure it didn’t creep up on him.

   Possibly not what you were expecting, nicht wahr?

Talking Of Creepy ...

Your Humble Scribe is re-watching his DVD collection of "The Outer Limits", some of which strike a chord, most of which I have no recollection of watching.  Last night it was one I did remember: "It Crawled Out Of The Woodwork", which features a sinister energy monster that seeks to consume power sources around it.  Art!

Including people

     The worst monster of all, of course - obviously! - turns out to be human, being quite ruthless and willing to kill to keep his little side-project going.  The energy monster is kept isolated in 'The Pit' which has generators going 24/7 so it can sustain itself.  By the end the human monster is dead, and the energy monster is - confined.  Not destroyed.  Art!

Investigating sergeant comes face-to-face with Energo

     I shan't give away any more details, because that would be entirely too spoilery.  One to watch with the lights on.

"You locked me in - and I need the loo!"

Name Your Poison

Almost literally.  Yes, it's a jokey phrase used by those who are willing to purchase an alcoholic drink for you, and yet it was pretty true before 1880, when laws and regulations about selling toxic titrations came into force and were enforced.  For example, take a newly-brewed beer.  It hasn't matured or aged in barrels, and any experienced drinker would cast a dubious eye upon it, were such served to him (or her).  The brewer's solution?  Simply add sulphuric acid and the beer instantly looks older!  Art?

     On the other hand, if you wanted to reduce the acidity of your beer, then you could add in such substances as marble dust (if you knew any sculptors) or crushed oystershell (if you knew any fishermen).  Actually no for that last one, because oysters were consumed by the Victorians in the same way we scoff fish and chips today.  Conrad remembers working the dig at Castlefield and there were layers of discarded oyster shells there six inches thick.

And still a thing

Finally -

Conrad is going to make his addiction to Reddit threads on Youtube work for him this time.  OP said that he had a large plot of land, and a big garage, as well as a nice big house.  Plus girlfriend.  His garage was taken up with a dismantled Impala, which is a species of car, that he was renovating.  Art!

Very Sixties

     Girlfriend did not like being unable to park in the garage, so when OP was off on a business trip, she had a couple of chaps from a scrapyard come take it away.  When OP returned and eventually discovered his Impala was gone, he was enraged.  He'd spent 18 months renovating it, and even unassembled it was worth £10,000.  Girlfriend entirely unapologetic.

     Well, she got arrested and charged with grand theft auto, and so did the shady scrap-metal dealers, whom police caught red-handed trying to hide all the car's components.  It was seized as evidence but OP will be getting it back once the law is finished with the three miscreants.  They are, as you may expect, no longer together, which OP can be thankful for.  He didn't dodge a bullet, he dodged a tactical nuclear weapon.

     Never mess with the toys of the boys.

"My Mother Of A Car"