Heaven's Coming; next installment, Chapter 9

¬¬Chapter nine

Six months had now passed, mid year exams came and went, Michael would be now looking forward to end of year exams soon, and through it all scraped through with meagre passes. Susan, however, reached her goals with a full high distinction report, with hardly any effort and still maintaining a new, crazy relationship with Michael. Spring fell upon the beautiful city of Perth, the sunshine was gathering force towards another coming of the foreboding dry hot summer. On the university cricket oval, about middle from the centre and edge of the lawn, Michael, Susan and four other friends sat in a circle in some debate.
‘U.F.Os? Aliens? When will we get the answers from the people in power?’ Says Frank, wiping sweat off his brow.
‘Superior life beings, space-men, these beings, if they aree physically real, must have their own agenda.I mean, if they came here then we know two things for sure. One. They knew of our existence before coming here. And two. They must have some plan for us, for them to come here in the first place. So, if I were an Alien, attempting to contact another species, they would have to come up with some sort of Protocol to make the contact successful to their goals, whatever that is. This is fact, if Aliens are around us, they didn’t come here to war with us, turn us into subordinates and rape us of our resources, because obviously we’re still a functioning global community. Therefore Aliens can be now labelled as peaceful, or intervening in peoples affairs subtly and covertly. Knowing through our own knowledge of Physics, to travel through the enormous vast expanse of the Universe, these Creatures have most certainly overcome the limit of light speed. And our Theoretical Physicists have generally held that we can travel vast distances through worm holes, or actually being able to somehow rip the fabric of space-time and go into the, what I call, the Fifth Dimension, where time would be the Fourth dimension.’
‘Dude, you are from the Fifth Dimension!’
‘Hey wait I still got more...So these Aliens right? Have come here with technology possibly thousands of years more advanced than ours, and what is the most valuable thing they have? That’s Knowledge right? And what would you do with this knowledge? It would be to maintain control of it, that would be their greatest power. And how would you teach humans, who still murder and rape and steal and make thousands of nuclear warheads? You would slowly teach the humans to Evolve, like putting a four year old in Kindergarten until he becomes a Professor out of Uni. Because, if we knew how to create a singularity and create holes in space time who would let some Primary kid do it, knowing that he could mistakenly swallow up our whole planet or be developed into a Doomsday Weapon.’
‘Sounds plausible Michael. Your argument was well founded, and soundly thought out. I see your using your techniques in Philosophy of Logic. Can we celebrate this moment with a Joint?’ asks Frank, quite loudly.
‘Fuck it’s hot!’ screams Amanda
‘Same here.’
‘I say we dump the rest of the day and we head down to Cottesloe Beach, huh?’ ponders Derek, in thick black framed glasses and a messy, curly beard.
Susan adjusted her sunglasses a little and catches a few sparkles. ‘Sorry guys, I have to prepare for tomorrow’s tutorial, but you guys enjoy yourself.’ She begins to stand, then leans over to kiss Michael’s forehead, he responds with a glancing kiss to her cheek.
‘Okay babe, speak to you soon, oi Frank, where’s that celebratory joint you were on about?’


Raphael sat at the end of a large oak wood table, with his crew of Hells Angels, smoking and plotting and hatching plans for the next earn or underworld deals. The real Angels of God respected Raphael, because they saw him back up his comrades in all sorts of dangerous liaisons with the Devil and his minions. Raphael is an Archangel, and had commanded armies in Heaven, and had fought and defeated many Demons and Unholy Spirits. In his mortal form he sometimes forgot that he was more vulnerable, and the underworld he travelled in was filled with Satan’s traps and deceptions. Raphael knew that if he was to continue the war on Earth then he must be in Satan’s world, yet remain upright and tread a Holy path. A man’s life is in his hands now.
‘No guns.’
‘No chance. We know they have them. That’s stupid.’
‘We should both agree to have no weapons for the meeting.’ Commanded Raphael.
‘Say we do it, no guns, then what?’
Raphael leaned back and smiled. ‘Yunno those metal detectors they got at airports and stuff? Well we already got them from hustling security at a few concerts, I checked.’ Raphael takes a breath. ‘Well we set up one at a burnt out factory, one way in, one way out, through the alarms. The Coffin Cheaters will most likely agree to these terms. Of course, we’ll need our heavies and set a limit on the group size. Understand?’
The others nodded, in anticipation. Raphael reached under the table and took out a large scroll of paper. He unrolled it and slammed it on the table. The scroll was a large map of Perth and surrounding suburbs. On it was crosses of Coffin Cheater barracks and contained entertainment venues. Other parts were shaded areas of colours and detail. A big red cross marked where they were at that moment. ‘This talk ain’t got nothing to do with knocking up a few scratch marks on your gun. This is about money. This shit fuck business of chasing bullshit deals and getting ripped off by fucks like the C.C’s is doing everybody no good. Right now we plan, we ain’t going to win with fists and boots, we’ll out flank them with ability to plan our moves better, to the point, and executable.’
Raphael took his seat at the head of the table. ‘So,’ Raphael puts his hands together triangle like. ‘Right now we mark the territories, and by making him agree by the border we would have already quickly marked out to our advantage, stealing parts that he won't think has potential. See? This is like thinking like a lawyer. Because this is a business deal to somehow stop this war, right? And in any deal there’s a contract, and with our pre-planning and pre-emptive surgical strikes through taking the best route around Perth, while the shit for brains C.C’s snorting shit coke off dumb sluts we already got it all laid out in our heads about which parts of Perth we want worked out.’ He pauses, everyone in the room feels somehow exhilarated by this marvellous natural leader of armies. Raphael’s plan was simple, hold a meeting with the Coffin Cheaters to set borders of control. Raphael’s advantage in this was to make the Hell’s Angels more stronger and better placed because Raphael’s men would be better planned, unlike the Coffin Cheaters, who would undoubtedly go to the meeting unprepared.

Drenched in a sea of moaning and Satan, the most evil one, sat on his throne of skull and bones. Poor tortured souls caught in the surrounding lake of lava rose and fell with the lava lake. Puff’s of dark smoke formed into bodily shapes, and when reaching some sort of bodily form, wretched faces screamed in pain or moaned in sorrow.
‘Come forth Baal, come forth Murmur, show yourself to your Master.’ Called Satan.
Swirls of grey smoke from all directions met up at a point a few meters from Satan. A silver light sparked in the middle of the swirling matter, and this light continued to change colour and grew into a humanoid form. Then, a demon appeared, it was The Dark Prince, the Demon that dealt in contracts of the soul, and the one who controlled the money in mankind’s world.
‘Yes Master. How may I serve you?
‘I need you to persuade the Messiah to make a deal, and contract his soul, and turn him against his own Father.’
‘This man, the Messiah, he is protected by the Creator, and his faith in Him is strong. It will not be easy to make him turn.’
‘The Messiah is a man of light, so you shall approach him as a man of light too. You must enter his circle, gain his trust. You shall turn him because he has all the frailties of mankind, his fleshly desires are those of all men, to be loved, to be powerful, to be beautiful. Go into the world of Mankind and become the Messiah’s most trusted friend. Then we shall defeat the Creator in these final days, for surely the universe will be undone when the Messiah turns his back on his Father’s creation.’

My Novel next installment Chapter 8

Chapter eight


Agent Brinks is suited up in Armani, in a hot sweaty small isolated Pakistani village. Poor peasants pass by carrying loads of produce and scraps of rubbish. The odd donkey eeoorrs. In his breast pocket his palm sized info-pad vibrates and chimes. He touches the pad, an image of General Karter appears.
‘What is your status Agent Brinks?’
‘I am expecting our contacts any minute now.’
‘Where is the weapon?’
‘Safe, at location Gamma-ex-one.’
‘Make sure you clarify the orders to them, the weapon is only to be released at the planned targets only. There must be no confusion about this. Are the fail-safe codes synchronized?’
‘Of course, General.’
‘I am looking at your sat-image, the agents are just three miles away from you. I have trust in you that all will go as planned.’
‘Yes Sir!’ Agent Brinks watches the General log off and the info-pad returns to display all it’s data portals. Brinks tucks the gadget into his breast pocket, next to his strapped forty-five piece. With his other hand he feels for his packet of cigarettes and sets about smoking and casually waiting for his contacts to arrive. A dusty Toyota drives up in front of him sitting on the veranda seats of a tiny eating house. Three Arab bearded men come out of the vehicle, holding AK-47s. The Muslim extremists look Brinks up and down. In formation the men surround Brinks on the restaurant’s veranda, guns at Brinks’ head level.
The one standing directly in front of Brinks is wearing some type of trendy Aviator sunglasses. A brown skinned man speaks a fragmented, heavily Arabic accented form of English. ‘The package, mister Brinks?’
‘Safe. Ready for you to retrieve.’
The Muslim leader at the centre of this group touches his machine gun against Brinks’ chin, with a mad look. He says ‘Transfer.’
Agent Brinks uses a soft glance of his hand and puts the gun’s end to point in another direction. ‘The instructions are clear, right?’
‘Yes yes we have talked about this many times.’
‘I’m cannot give you the weapon until I state my insurance upon you. By this, I mean, I have all the information on every little aspect of your life. I know where you go to find women, to find prostitutes, where you go to rest, where you choose to spend your free time. I know which mosque you worship at, and I know who your Islamic leader is. I know where your mother lives, where your two brothers and sister lives, everything. I am warning you, Rahim, if you fail to comply with our agreement and fail to submit to our plans, you, and your family will most certainly die.’
‘Ofcourse I know all this, I heed from the House of Windsor!’
Brinks takes out his info-pad and holds it out a little. The Muslim leader takes out his own info-pad too and steps closer, holding his gadget head to head with Brink’s. ‘Transfer-ready.’ says Brinks.
‘Ready.’ Not a minute goes by and a soft beep sounds.
‘You have all the files you need now. The location and instructions to deliver and enable the weapon. We could not risk any leaks of this transfer over unsecured lines in Pakistan. Okay?’
The Muslim man doesn’t answer and is fixated on the info-pad. Touching and swiping the monitor he reads the location of the weapon. Seeing the location on the info-pad’s world satellite image he analyses the co-ordinates. Rahim signals to his henchmen to go back to the car. Rahim enters the car through the back seat. ‘To Lahore! Hurry!’ The driver pulls away and speeds into dusty track.
Brinks starts to question his own morality, he did just put a fatal bomb carrying a new virus created with nanotechnology, combined with genetic manipulation into the hands of one of America’s biggest enemies. This type of virus could be controlled like a robot, causing the virus to do this and that when certain radio frequencies pass through the affected host. Hence, the people in charge could pick and choose what type of serious illness would be induced. This was no ordinary biological weapon. The virus could be killed off with a few packets of frequencies and wavelengths at the exact required kilobytes per second. The contagious super high-tech virus developed with the help of the Overlords sat waiting in a massive vault somewhere in Lahore, Pakistan for the pickup. Everything went according to plan so far…

Michael and Susan had declared their love for one another two months into the relationship. Michael felt complete now, contented that someone loved him. God blessed this union from above, watching on with glee. The sun shone brightly but gently on this typical autumn day. Michael wore a tired suit jacket he bought at an op-shop. Susan wore an orange dress with white stockings and a furry jacket to keep warm. Both walked in unison towards the university main library.
‘Yunno Michael,’ Susan pondered, ‘I don’t know anything about your parents.’
‘I was adopted. My foster mum and dad are awesome though, they work at Curtin university, my mum is an anthropologist lecturer and my father is a mathematics professor. They are nothing like me though, they are very square.’
Susan laughs. ‘No Michael, you are not square at all!’
‘No. Not very, I guess.’
They both go into the library, but as soon as they walk through the automated doors Susan gives Michael a nice peck on his cheek. ‘I have to do some work now, see you in a bit?’

Michael manoeuvres himself for a more passionate kiss. Susan obliges a little, then pulls back and holds his hands and smiles. ‘I have a lot of work to do Michael, and I really don’t need this distraction.’
‘Distraction? Is that all I am?’
‘Oh, come on Mike, you know what I mean.’
‘Well, I guess you’ll find me at the usual place.’
‘The Tavern?’
Michael laughs. ‘Yes, most definitely.’
‘When are you going to do some uni work?’
‘I dunno, when I really have to I suppose. I’m studying Arts, and the subjects I’m doing are mainly sociological and philosophical theory, some unproven or presented as purely intellectual arguments based on some other guy I never heard about till now. I’ll just wing it, from my own philosophy. I don’t agree with the status quo, their solutions have so far not worked as well as it could be. They don’t fully encompass Man’s carnal desires versus their sense of morality. Society is a living organism made up of the world’s population, it is continuously changing, and it shrinks and grows, pulsating with the power gained from the resources of Earth.’
‘University doesn’t work that way Michael. A first-year student doesn’t have the qualifications to sprout new theories. It’s your job to read into those that asked those same questions in the past. But unless you get published, or become recognised as an expert in your field you ain’t got shit to say about anything, yet.’ Susan lets go of Michael’s hands. She does a sexy wink at him, and then says ‘goodbye, I’ll see you later in the afternoon okay?’
‘Yeah hun I’ll be waiting.’
They both quickly and politely kissed once again and then went their separate ways. Azaria sees the two go off from the front windows, and Michael heads for the exits. Azaria aligns herself at the exits, waiting for Michael to approach. Azaria stands staring at Michael through the glass walls with blood lust, watching him weave through other students. When Michael goes through the final doors Azaria is standing there, hoping that he remembers her when they met at the start of the year.
‘Michael? Hi!’
Surprised, Michael looks around and notices Azaria, she looked familiar. Azaria draws a little closer to Michael, who stands there unable to remember her name.
‘Do you remember me? My name is Azaria.’ She smiles and presents a hand. Michael gently shakes her hand.
‘Hi there, Azaria, that’s right. We met early on in the year, at the café.’
‘Yes that’s right. I’ve seen you around, yunno…you’re quite the man around campus. I’ve seen you at the tavern a few times, I wanted to come and chat with you but you were always surrounded by a group of drunk guys doing macho stuff. I saw you coming out from the library and I need your help, that’s if you can.’
‘I’m sure I can help. I think that is my meaning on this world, to help others.’
‘You are such a dreamer.’ Azaria smiled.
‘Yeah, a lot of people have told me that. What do you need help with?’
Azaria pauses for a moment. ‘I want to…I want to ummm…’
‘What is it?’
‘I want to…fuck you. I want to fuck you Michael, I really want some sex from you, or is that just too bold?’
Michael staggers back a bit, taken off-guard. ‘I have a girlfriend. I don’t think it would be fair on her.’
‘It’s. Just. A. Fuck.’ Azaria’s eyes widen, her breasts firm up. She steps closer to him. She whispers into his ear. ‘Oh come on, don’t you find me attractive? I can make your whole body quiver in ecstasy. All you have to do is come with me, right now.’
Michael thinks about this proposition, Azaria radiated something so seductive and alluring, her beauty kept his eyes mesmerised and fixated on her. Susan’s face appears in his mind. Susan had still not had sex with him, she promised him she would do it soon, she just needed to be sure, she said. Azaria came up close to him, able to hear each other’s breath. She feels his chest, then her hands ran downwards, and slowly she rubs his growing bulge. ‘Come on baby, how often do you get a girl like me begging for your cock?’ she whispers. ‘You will not regret it, and no-one will find out. Come on Michael, I want you inside of me. I want to pleasure you’ Azaria feels his groin again, firmly this time.
‘You sure know your way around a guy’s mind.’ Says Michael, sheepishly.
‘I can be your whore Michael, would you like that?’ she says, close to his face. Michael feels a surge of sexual hunger brim from his centre, as if awakened by this girl.
‘I will let you do anything to me.’ She gets even closer. ‘Anything.’
Michael stutters. ‘Umm aaarrh oh ohkaaay I guess, but no-one will know alright?’
Azaria’s loins begin to melt. ‘No Michael,’ she licks her lips sensually ‘no-one will find out, I promise.’ She takes Michael by the wrist and drags him towards the car park. A vintage Rolls Royce sits there with a driver, reading a novel. The driver looks up for a moment and sees Azaria walking towards him. She signals the driver to fetch her at the other end of the park. They both get into the back seat and Azaria pounces on Michael, rubbing and kissing him passionately. Michael feels like he is in some dream, caught up in some hypnotic trance. He feels himself losing control of what governs his morality, his honour to Susan, and something else that just doesn’t feel right. Azaria touches prime nervous spots on Michael’s body, making him weaker against her advances. The car pulls out of the park and heads down Stirling highway. Michael notices a set of traffic lights approaching, and inside his mind he can only hear screams of torture and pain. Something inside his brain shoots out images of death and blood and skeletons. Michael jolts out of Azaria’s hold. He pushes her back. When the car stops at the lights he grasps the door and opens it, and runs away, fast. Azaria looks at Michael disappearing into the parkland of thick trees and bushes. Azaria feels outdone, she manages to smirk a little though, she knew Michael would be hers one day, hers to destroy from within, like her father had told her. Azaria orders the driver to take her home. Another day Michael, another day you will be mine.

Heaven's Coming Chpt 4-7

Chapter four

Samuel, another Archangel, stood near a cliff of a massive, vast mountain range, overlooking a wide, unending chasm, an opening into Hell. He gazed upon the massive, gaping mouth of fire and lava. Black shadows danced in the fire, waving their pointed tails. Samuel turns around, upright and bold. Before him a mass of angels untainted by Satanic desires stand to attention simultaneously.
‘We shall take flight together and we shall fall together. We honour our Father, the Most High, and praise his magnificent work of love and honour. We will keep these foul creatures of lust and hate behind the Gates of Heaven. WHAT DO YOU SAY?
‘All hail Jehowah! Praise to our Father! We will never fall to Satan!’
Above the mass of the Holy Army a white and silver cloud appears. What sounds like a loud, gentle voice of an old man came down from a golden giant orb above the cloud.
‘My precious children, what comes forth from my mind will be so. For everything has a place in this work. We shall see death and destruction, evil and terror and this must be endured. For the balance of power rests with the minds of Men, for I created it for him. So Man shall bathe in clean waters and then are trampled upon by swine. For so I created my Perfect Man, our Messiah, and in his wisdom Satan’s minions on Earth shall banished, and my kingdom come.’
And then his booming voice turned to a gentle lullaby tune, and his Soldiers waved in unison to the peaceful, fulfilling pure love filling their hearts, strengthening their resolve, basking in the golden light from above.

In a magnificent main sleeping chamber of Windsor Castle Azaria sits on the edge of the giant, lavish bed. She wears a purple robe of the finest silk. In her hand is a human finger, it’s tip ground to the bone. She gets up, then goes to a large clearing of wooden floorboards. She centres herself.
‘Omm me heyhe si bar iuti tor for’ She closes her eyes and meditates. Slowly her arms make a peak above her head. Then, like in a trance, as if possessed, she kneels down, and into a foetal position. Suddenly, her hand jerks high into the air, the finger seems to have control over her whole body, as she jolts upwards, following the finger. Then, in a violent stab, she cuts deeply into her hand. Blood spurts out. Azaria, completely overcome with this force behind the finger she uses the blood and the finger and starts making patterns on the floor. Sigils and secret symbols appear, the shapes become definite, holding meaning and secrets.
Azaria finishes in the centre of the magical scrawling. She drops the finger, closes her eyes, concentrating deeply. With her left hand she reaches into her left pocket. She pinches a fine granular grey powder and holds it aloft. In arms reach around herself she sprinkles piles of powder in certain places. Then, with her right hand she goes into her other pocket and there, a black powder of heavy grains is obtained. She ceremoniously places them on top of the other piles. Finishing this, with the remnants of different powders on each hand she cries ‘RAMEN-OS-ISREAL-ARCANA’ and claps her hands. From the combustion of the mixed powders a fireball appears above her palms. She plays with the balls of fire, making them do a ritual dance. Then in quick, furious manner she lights the other piles around her. Surrounded by flames she stares into the Sigel before her on the floor, one of dark majick art.
‘Oh Master, what is thy request?’
Slowly, from the smoke rising from the flames around her they swirled and moved. They start forming a humanoid being, dark with smoke. Two yellow eyes could be seen.
‘Issssshhhhhhheeiiiiiaaatttaa my Ayesha. Purrrrr. Aaaaarrrrrwwaaaa.’
‘Father, my will.’
‘Miiichaaeeeeeeeeeeeel! Michaaaaaaaaellllllllllloooooooooooo!’
‘Yesssssssssss.’
‘Deaaaath frooom within my child. Make him saaaacriiifiiiiice.’
Azaria closes her eyes again, and then screams in fits of laughter, an evil and sickening laugh.
‘Everybody must paaaaaay’
Azaria continues to giggle now, like a master plan is being hatched. She giggles and laughs here and there. Then the smoke and mist begin swirling, racing around the entire room. Azaria stands upright and spreads her arms high. ‘OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIITTOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRFFFFFFFAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT.’ She shrieks. The flames go out, the dust settles, everything returns to normal.

Raphael reaches Perth’s outer borders after a few days of riding. He wasn’t sure of his plan, all he knew was that he must protect the Messiah. He took out an old cloth made from sacks. Sketched onto it was the face of the Messiah. Like all of his servitude to the Lord it had taught him this: trust on the sea’s mood and waves, for the Lord made it that way. Most endings weren’t necessarily happy or meaningful, it was just events on a massive timeline destined to greatness. And Raphael trusted that, in the end of all things, good will overcome evil. But what is evil though? Oh the eternal and blasphemous dilemma.
Going down from the hills of Perth he slipped the gear into neutral and coasted for a while. With one hand he got out his packet of cigarettes. At the next lights he lit the smoke and took a long drag. He enjoyed smoking, quite a lot, but being immortal gave one certain perks. The lights across him turned orange, Raphael kicked it into gear and held the clutch. On the moment the lights turned green he skidded off with great howling power.
When night fell Raphael parked his bike close to his motel room, paid for once again by his large pouch of diamonds. Tomorrow he would approach some Jews at a jeweller. His diamonds were immaculate though, crafted by the Lord’s very finger-tips. He undresses some, took his boots off and kicked them to the corner and yawned. Tired, he goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower. While showering he luxuriously washes his long blonde mane of waves. Shampooing his hair became a delight on Earth. The silky white lather, mixed with warm water rolling down from his head, there was no other feeling like it, to him, and he missed it.
Dried, he sat on the end of the bed facing an old television. He grabbed the remote instinctively. Flicking through the channels he settled on Seinfeld. He laid back and stared at the ceiling. He wondered what adventure lay before him. But this was the final quest to resolve the final matter. He was the lone Archangel brought to Earth to play his part in this epic story. God had blessed him tenfold, thousand-fold and his power stemmed from his ability to be the Messenger of God. Inside of him was God’s manuscript written on his heart. He trusted God as much as he trusted himself. He sighed, grinned and then sighed another sigh of despair; he was just so very tired.


Chapter five

Susan opened her purse and got her I.D. out and showed it to security. She only turned eighteen two months ago, and she wasn’t very accustomed to the whole scene. She shyly cruised to the bar and waited. A scruffy haired hippy came up to her.
‘What’ll it be?’
‘Ummm…vodka, lemonade thanks.’
‘Sure,’ and went off about the business. Susan looked around, examining different groups of people, trying to get some insight into the dynamics. Girls over there, Asians over there, pimply nerds in that corner and oh, over there is some rowdy bunch cheering. In the middle of that motley crew a certain individual stepped up above them, ‘Oh Lord I wanna get wasted’ he sings. Susan instantly recognises him, it’s Michael, in a dishevelled state picking up half a jug and downing it, to the cheers and roars around him. She smiles, rolls her eyes a bit and cannot resist his pull towards her. But what kind of guy is this? He seems so brilliant yet he gets drunk and parties all the time. Can’t he be serious? But this is what amazes you about him doesn’t it? Yes, she thought.
Susan picks up her drink and strolls nearby to Michael, unnoticed. Michael, seating across from her with his back to her, Susan tries to muster some courage to approach such a popular man on campus. A message is delivered into Michael’s thoughts. He turns around and another prayer is delivered. She smiles brightly at him. Michael, eyes bloodshot and hair everywhere is a little confused about what to say. So he just stares at her lovingly for a little while.
‘Hi! Susan, great to see you again. You look great. Sorry about how I’m looking at the mo. Been here since eleven, since it opened. I’ll check out the lectures online. Yeah, it’s just been one big continuous coming and goings. Ofcourse, I’ll still be the one remainder.’ Michael gets up and sits next to Susan.
‘So how you been?’
‘Been good. I’m ahead in all my work. Had some free time, thought I check to see what’s all the fuss is about.’
‘You enjoying uni?’
‘Yeah. But I don’t really like what I’m studying. There’s no passion in it. My dad’s a barrister and wants me to do the same. Ever since I was a kid I remember him reading Law cases to me before bed, telling me that’s how the judge ruled and there’s your happy ending.’ Susan gulps some tears, holding them back. ‘Yeah he died last year, right during the big exams. I was wrecked, a mess.’
‘Oh.’ Michael paused. ‘Hey, let’s not harsh my mellow babe and let’s say we try and get over some stuff and just be, well, merry!’
Susan huffed a laugh. ‘Okay, I’ll try.’ They looked into each other’s eyes and there, right then and there, heaven wept a single tear, which fell on the Earth, giving it nourishment.
Meanwhile Azaria walked into the tavern glamorously. Guys around her were mesmerised by her beauty. She flicked her hair to and fro carelessly, with confidence. She strode to the bar and nods at the barman. The barman hovels closer.
‘Your finest whiskey, with just a few blocks of ice.’ The barman went to work. Azaria takes out an abnormally large wad of hundred dollar bills. She flicks one out, and places it on the bar and ignores him. The whiskey slams onto the bar. She lifts the drink carefully to her lips and grabs a straw from the bar. Seductively she stirs her whiskey, admiring God’s Perfect Man. She remembered what her father had told her, to destroy him from the inside. He must sacrifice himself, against God’s creation, and undo what has been done. Smiling at her prey she swiftly integrates her plans into motion.

Aimlessly Raphael rode the streets of Perth. He didn’t know where He was. He didn’t know where to begin, just knew the city. God only gave him a human brain and it’s limited capacity. Hence, fragments of information are leaked to him, in urges, in instinct, because he went through the Curtain. Now he just keeps riding, howling through empty streets and alleyways, searching, holding the parchment of his image. And waiting. Tirelessly.
He steered the bike into an outer suburb pub. He only just received sixty thousand for three diamonds. It was all in cash, and hard to explain to the Jews that they couldn’t write him a check. Ofcourse, there was a safe full of cash on the premises and it was all stuffed here and there on his person. At the bar, Raphael clumsily dropped a few hundred, muddling his way through wads of cash. However, Raphael didn’t know that the pub he was in right now was a lair of the Hells Angels. God worked in mysterious ways.
‘Turkey, straight, and ice.’
‘Okay boss’ replied the obese barman.
Raphael makes himself comfortable on the stool and leans back against the bar. The whiskey is put to his side, the obese man takes one of Raphael’s hundred off the bar. He takes heed of his surroundings, his instinct was spiking. Something, something he had no clue about, something was going to happen. He remembered that he was no longer a champion of God’s Holy Army, he was mortal and made of flesh like all men. He was strong, like a Titan through and through, eons of wars had shaped him into a hardened weapon of God’s wrath. A large man, goatee and flannel shirt came straight towards Raphael. Raphael nodded at him, and smiled a welcome.
‘Who are you?’ asked the burly man.
‘Nobody. Why?’
‘Do we know you?’
‘Probably not. I’m from out of town.’
‘That’s a nice bike you came in on. They certainly don’t make them like that anymore. That’s an old FL series made during world war two isn’t it? Mint condition, I like your style. A man who rides around like that certainly wants to be noticed.’
‘Thank-you.’
‘Yeah,’ he offers his hand. ‘Sash.’
‘Raphael.’ They shake hands roughly.
‘I tell you mate, you got balls.’
‘Why?’
‘You just come strolling in here waving all this cash on a ride like that. Do you want a bullet in your head? Do you know where you are?’
‘Sure, Perth.’
‘No, where you are right now.’
‘I don’t think I follow.’
‘Do you know the Hells Angels?’
Raphael was shocked at this man. What was he referring to? The Hells Angels? Satan’s Angels? ‘Sorry, don’t get ya.’ Raphael repeated.
Sash bursts out in laughter and looks around at the other members, who are all staring at this weird man. ‘You never heard of the Hells Angels? For someone who rides such a classic Harley would surely know about the Hells Angels.’ Sash gives Raphael a hard slap on the back, surprising him. Sash laughs, encouraging the others to stare at him, making a show of it.
‘Like I said. I’m from out of town.’
‘Okay, mister out of towner let me give you this advice. When you walk into a Hells Angel Clubhouse your obliged to buy us a drink. As a sign of gratitude for letting you be here.’ Sash gives Raphael an evil grin.
Raphael looks around, seeing evil and filth staring straight back at him. He hears the filthy chatter in their minds, conspiring to stand over him. Raphael digs into his pocket and grabs at least fifteen thousand in hundreds out. He shoves it into Sash’s chest.
‘Take care of it them.’ Raphael piercing eytes stares straight into Sash’s heart, intimidating him. He then smiles, and gives him a return back slap. Raphael laughs aloud. Sash is dumbfounded, holding a giant wad of cash.
‘I like the way you roll, Raphael, or say, Ralph?’ Sash bangs the cash onto the bar.
‘COME ON BOYS LETS PARTY IT’S RALPH’S TREAT!!’
Like animals Raphael enjoyed the barbaric entertainment of these brutes. The boys had the idea first to take this guy down, take his bike and see him somewhere dumped in some alleyway. But Ralph, as he was now known to these guys, was a hit, winning all the arm wrestle duels and remained staggeringly sober throughout the marathon drinking fests. As the night wore on, he listened to the stories of crimes and scams. How they ‘earned’ their keep as they say. Raphael saw this as a major opportunity. He laughed to himself as how it could be that one of God’s mightiest Archangels should become a Hells Angel, lurking in the hellish nature of man. He sat still, where around him bikers lay slumped on tables passed out from the endless supply of booze. Ralph liked where he was, he felt like one of the boys, he chain smoked and downed one whiskey after another with seemingly no effect. He asked himself why he should end up riding through The Curtain on an old classic Harley. Now he saw the brilliance of God’s infinite wisdom. Raphael had found his soldiers for his battle to come, imperfect as they were. All they needed was a touch of the Holy Spirit.

Chapter six

Orbiting Earth is a fleet of Universal star travellers, hiding in rips in time and space. When their technology evolved to a point where they could overcome the limits of light speed and they became super-beings, able to live at any points in space and time. They choose certain points in Time to influence mankind’s pathways. They want to keep pushing their agendas further, they try to guide mankind, but mankind is stubborn and unwilling to come to the fold of the universal governing body, referred to as the Spatial Orders of Light.
Their mission was to enforce the ‘Evalusation’ protocols onto the human race. They themselves have become immortal through their immense knowledge and mysterious god-like powers. They stalked the influential and those holding great wealth. Evalusation was the art of bringing a species out of ignorance and lose his dense attachment to the physical world. Certainly, Man had to get over clinging to his harsh and unforgiving physical environment, just one aspect of this state of the universe and dimensional plane. The Orders of Light pledge their quest to promote species to the next stage of Evolution, here and also to the furtherest, outer parts of the universe.
Mankind, as we knew it, had all these beings influencing our entire history, as if a huge jigsaw puzzle was slowly being worked on, revealing the full art at the end. Xavier’s dark and invisible agents were infiltrating every corner of the corridors of power, globally. They formed conspiracies, made secret deals and pacts in exchange for satisfying Man’s thirst for knowledge, using it as a lure and a bargaining chip. Because matter and density no longer mattered when travelling beyond the speed of light, they became hybrids of super-technological-intelligent hardware and social sentient beings, able to take on many forms. There obvious triumph of attaining knowledge made them exceedingly arrogant. Men, to them, were inferior, and shall ever be, lower in the order of things. Democratic President of the United States of America Lucas Williams sat starry eyed at the green lawn before the Oval Office. Attached to his ear was a Bluetooth phone.
‘Master. I am at your disposal.’ Lucas responds.
There was static and changes in little blips and screeching from the buffering of data that could be heard over the phone. Then some silence, and then a demonic, deep, harrowing voice comes over the earpiece. ‘It must be done. Now we must begin. Do not question our orders, they are absolute.’
‘Yes. We shall launch the first strike, as planned.’
‘Is everything prepared for our Landings?’
‘Yes Master, as you ordered.’
‘Then you shall launch the theatre of the Event. As of now, for it has been determined by us that the time is now.’
‘My pact? Shall it be honoured, Overlord?’
There is once again fizzles and static over the Bluetooth. Hearing it all it was likened to dialling a fax machine, the inaudible data screeches begins to form some pattern. The noise stops. The voice returns. ‘We will grant you the knowledge of all the Black Arts of Magick, to manipulate destinies of others, for we are the makers of all destinies.’
‘HAIL!’ Lucas chants.
‘Do this, and your wills be made come true.’ The phone stops and is disconnected, Lucas wipes sweat from his brow, he always felt nervous speaking to the Overlords. Lucas picks up the desk phone and presses the blue button and gets instantly directed into the core of the Pentagon.
‘Yes, Mr President?’ General Karter asks.
‘The order has been sent. Create the planned Event.’
‘Yes Mr President.’ The General puts the phone down and gazes upon the network of communications and imaging data on huge displays from all parts of the world before him. He picks the phone up again and gets patched through to the CIA. An unknown agent answers, and just listens.
‘Zero-Niner-Four, established.’ The phone dies abruptly.



Michael is on his forth date with Susan, all is well so far. Kisses were passionate and long lasting. Hours felt like minutes, and they both drifted off into wonderful fantasies of a perfect world. What it should be like, and how the law should be upheld. At that moment they casually strolled down the landscaped gardens of Kings Park, holding hands, exchanging pose of corny romance and pretty love.
‘Yunno babe, I want to change this world, something from the very moment I could remember I always tried figuring out why there is so much sadness and suffering in this beautiful world of ours, with such plentiful-ness and magnificence. Why? Why can’t they see through their crazy notions, their stupid, half-hazard, uncaring solutions? I do. I see it everywhere.’ Michael kicked a few little stones ahead in frustration.
‘We’re dreamers, not meant of this world I suppose.’
‘Hmmm…sad.’ Michael looks up at the sky. ‘Susan, do you believe in God?’
‘I believe in my interpretation of what God is to me. My personal God.’ Susan comfortably states.
‘Yes, you said it. Everyone’s God is personal. Yunno what? I believe in a magnificent God, with a personality, with that much love for us that we are given a consciousness so we can determine our own destiny. My free will is a gift, and we best not abuse it, because we all answer for it at the hour of our death.’ A cold gust of wind blows through them, the two hold each other closer for warmth, it is nearing autumn. They gaze upon the lights of Perth, the dots of light scattered everywhere, and the moving headlights from this place to that, just on the western coast of Australia, in peace, for now.


Chapter seven


Archangel Gabriel is adorned with gold and platinum armour, a long jewelled sword hangs from his belt. Next to him a Griffin lays ready, purring. They are in the In-Between Lands. Gabriel shuts his eyes and smells the gentle breeze. He senses a dark force approaching. Opening his eyes slowly he puts a fist to his heart and leans forward, into a fierce howling wind. In front of him black particles accumulate, generating shape and form. A huge horned, a dark and crimson evil yellow-eyed devilish beast bursts forth, dark energy emanates from it, while Gabriel resists the dark unholy forces by using his hardened heart, formed and carved from perfectly channelling the Holy Spirit.
‘I bring news from the Lord.’ Gabriel shouts. The beast settles, its chest rises and falls as it pulsates, moving and threatening.
‘Gabriel, do you not know that all will be undone? And you shall perish, by my flames. I have created an Empire, what have you except a dying breed. Soon, no one shall believe in Jehowah, and he shall be weakened when his praises fail to be heard anymore. Jehowah shall perish, like a weak old man, unable to make His most magnificent creation believe that Jehowah is their Creator. And then Jehowah shall know pain and suffering, tormented for all eternity by his own creation, dooming Him into the past and into obscurity. AND THEY SHALL WORSHIP ME!’
Gabriel looks straight at Satan, without fear. ‘I come from the Lord to make a pact!’
Satan laughs hauntingly with a booming voice. ‘HA-HA-HA! You dare to offer a pact with me?’
Gabriel stands firm. ‘The Messiah. He is to be protected. The war must be fought this way. What the Messiah is destined to become must be at his own free will. The balance is held upon his shoulders. All he endures he must be kept to be endured. He must live, your armies can not murder him.’
Satan grins. ‘The Messiah has also a part of me incarnate in Him. He will bow to me, and Jehowah will cry an eternity of tears at the betrayal. My armies will do no harm on his fragile incarnation. He will serve me.’
Gabriel angers at this blasphemy. ‘SILENCE!’ He shouts. ‘So it shall be so? This pact is made?’
‘HA! You know not what is before you. Your pact is sealed. HAIL!’ Satan’s eyes start to blink in a devious way. Around him the particles of black matter start to disintegrate, and after a violent whirlwind Satan disappears. Gabriel lifts his right arm to his Griffin, petting it. He pushes onto the stirrups and climbs on. Gabriel barks an order to the Griffin under him and the massive wings begin to move. In a sudden jolt of power Gabriel shoots upwards and rides West into the light green sky, towards the lights glowing in the horizon. He makes his way home, in Heaven.

Orbiting Earth, in a craft called Prime Arcana, the chief commander of the fleet, the sentient in charge, is Overlord Xavier. Xavier sits on his throne with long, slivery fingers caressing the armrests. Touching just the sides of his throne an image instantly appears, holographic and clear. Xavier watched on as Michael is once again at the tavern, busily intoxicating himself, finding new ways to get somebody’s lecture notes, or just plain cheat on tutorial assignments. Xavier found this amusing, this was the Fool at work.
To the side of the commander a smaller, bug-eyed creature approached from the darkness behind. He begins to whisper something to the Overlord. ‘Overlord Xavier, we are implanting our agents around Enoch. The mind transfers are beginning to reach clarity.’
‘Excellent! Enoch incarnate shall become the Supreme Sacrifice, the energy he holds inside will break the Fabric of all matter.’ Xavier watches Michael clinking glasses with friends, unaware of everything around him and being watched from afar. Beer spills from his face, and holding a cigarette aloft he is a most disgusting bohemian. Xavier feels the throne, another image appears. Azaria is seen in front of an antique, majestic mirror, brushing her hair with patience. ‘What is the status of the Queen?’ Xavier asks the servant.
The small light grey alien shuts his eyes and telepathically links into the craft’s databank system of folders. ‘All calculations and forecasts predict that she is ultimately the logical prime vessel for the Seed. However, Enoch’s choices are undetermined and unpredictable. We are unable to exert full mind control over him. Nevertheless, this human brain relies heavily on emotion, something we have left behind, but we can manipulate him by shaping his emotional attachments around him. We will watch his every move, and like an actor we choreograph his footsteps.’

Xavier rests his chin on his knuckles and contemplates. ‘Ensure that the Queen begins relations with Enoch immediately.’ The lowly alien servant backs into the shadows once again. Xavier looks admiringly at Azaria on the holographic projector; she was the perfect female form in every way. Xavier grins a little, and then touches the armrest, again. In a flash of light all matter disappears in a blip. Then the dark cold area of space appears where the craft was used to be.


Raphael stubs the cigarette butt out below his boots. Raphael blows out the smoke to his top corner. ‘Hey Sash, I’m not going to hurt anyone. I don’t pray on the weak, you must understand this. Battles are won because the winner is justified in his act.’
‘What are you talking about? You’re here because you’re a mate who’s trying to look out for me. You’re supposed to be my friend, and you’re here to give me a bit of help, a bit of protection.’
Raphael puts his arm around Sash’s broad shoulders. ‘That. I can do.’
For a while they wait in an abandoned burnt out factory on the out skirts of town. Breaking the silence Sash’s phone rings loudly, in a tune of an AC/DC tune. Sash answers.
‘Yes?’
A male voice on the other end can be heard. ‘You got it?’
‘Yep’
‘Okay, where are you?’
‘At the place we arranged. I’m ready. Bring it on!’
‘Forty-five minutes. Just wait.’ And hung up. Sash turned to Raphael. ‘It’s happening! Whooooeee!’ Sash does a little dance. Raphael laughs with him confusingly.
Raphael leans against the burnt brick walls on the ground, randomly throwing bits of stuff around. Sash checks his watch. On time three men approach on loud Harleys, their engines echoing throughout the factory. They approach, with one carrying a large hessian bag. Sash goes to his bike and searches his black leather side-saddles. He takes out a heavy cotton bag. The three men stand ten metres from them and stop. ‘Money first’ the man in the centre says.
Sash huffs out a sarcastic laugh. ‘You know how it goes. I see the goods, and then I pay. If it’s good.’
‘Fine.’ He throws the large bag at Sash’s feet. Opening the zip he says ‘What the fuck?’ and the bag explodes, throwing him back several meters. Raphael sees the men reaching behind their backs for their guns in what appears to him in slow motion. Raphael, like a bolt of lightning gets down and draws hidden knives attached to his boot. With two quick flicks two men are dead, knife between their eyes. The man in middle fumbles for his gun, seeing his accomplices dead beside him. Raphael strides confidently towards him while the man tries to control his nerves. When he finally raises his gun at Raphael, Raphael is in front of him, and to the side. Raphael manipulates and controls the man’s body like a rag doll. With strength and grace Raphael disables him, and the man drops to his knees, some bones snapped. Raphael holds back death blows and kicks from compassion. ‘Who is your master?’
The man, bloodied and broken, cries ‘What? What do you mean? If you want to know who I work for then I get to live, right?’
‘How will I know what you are telling me is the truth?’
‘I can give you addresses. I can give you my address, I got a family. I have a son.’
‘Yes, but be assured, this world is not so big I cannot find you if you lie to me.’ Raphael looks at the poor, trembling man and seeks his aura, analysing his desires.
‘It’s a man named Anton. They also call him the Warlock, too. He wanted me to get the money and run, simple job he said.’ He coughs. ‘He owns a nightclub in Northbridge. The Haven, it’s called The Haven.’
Raphael raises his boot and violently steps on the man’s neck, holding him down and suffocating him. ‘If my friend dies, so do you!’ and releases him. Turning around he sees Sash moving a little and apart from some burns it was just a stun grenade, still painful though.
‘Fuck mate you are unbelievable! Thank fuck you were here! Ha ha ha.’ Sash gets to his knees. ‘Phew!’ he swoons. ‘Ralph, when I say this I’m saying this from my badge as a Hells Angel. If you ever need me in your corner I’ll be there. And I’m not just talking about me, I’m talking about all the brothers.’
‘That’s okay mate. We’re friends right? Like you said.’
‘Yeah, you got a friend alright.’
Raphael paused in thought. He noticed that this quest had begun to take shape. In Raphael’s imagination he sees himself leading these men of Sin, on bikes roaring out striking fear into the meek everywhere. In whatever seas I ride, God’s churns the ocean’s currents, Raphael thought. Whichever road Raphael embarked upon from now on was becoming a dark path. It was by no coincidence that he became thirsty at that particular moment a few days ago, unknowingly putting himself into the clubhouse of the Hells Angels. Everything happened for a reason, and a meaning. Raphael tried to find some meaning for himself. Oh well, I’ll just ride the waves.
Both Raphael and Sash work there bikes and start revving it out loud, with solid thumping pistons rocking their seats. Raphael nods to Sash, he replies with thumbs up.
VROOOM! VROOOM!
Raphael just proved his worth to the Hells Angels, he would be a legend, of sorts. Raphael came through for the Hells Angels brotherhood, and Sash owed him his life. For now anyways, the Hells Angels owed him something, and Raphael kept that action card for the future. Slowly, Raphael stumbles into mankind’s social organism, orchestrated by devious conspiracies and secret societies. Day after day Satan’s army are set loose on Earth.
Raphael lets go of the clutch and dirt flies up from the back tyre with a little smoke. Raphael waves goodbye to Sash at the intersection of some lights a few blocks away. Sash waves back, and Raphael salutes. Sash heads West, Raphael, Easterly. Left behind them are two bodies each with an ugly knife incision between their eyes, Raphael had already retrieved his ancient throwing knives. The first killing of a man by a Holy Angel had just been committed again from when the last time was a very long time ago. Raphael notices some blood on his hands while gripping the handlebars. He keeps pushing forward, there was no home, just drifting and obeying his inner voice, connected to Jehowah by his huge heart. Raphael follows the main arterial river that runs through Perth. Across from South Perth nice patches of lush lawn sit like oasis’s in a bitumen desert. Raphael parks his bike carefully and legally, and across the road, next to the western side of the river was the University of Western Australia’s campus. Michael could be seen running shirtless around the car park, just across the road and a few meters away from the Archangel. Raphael is tired, and he lies on the lush grass and tries to rest a little. Before nearing rest he says a praise to the Lord, in whispers, as if talking to a great friend, unencumbered. Raphael doesn’t notice Michael half crazed and half naked running amok on the car parking area, a shout out away from Raphael. Raphael sighs some relief and rests his human form, trying to cram so much more than this limited body could cope. Michael disappears from view, and the moment had just came and gone, unnoticed.

How to make a million dollars Pt. 1

Look, I am dropping a Man aged 33 onto Earth. His name is Ryan. All I give him is $500, the clothes he is wearing and nothing else. I will make him a millionaire.


1.1- How to handle cash.

Ask yourself this, how is this 1c piece of paper equal $100, enough to exchange for a stereo? What is the meaning behind central banking and commercial banking? Who gives a fuck? Those Illuminatti and Freemasons wont let you into their little holes. (dogs).lol . Don't bother your pretty little head about it, cause even though I argued that making profit should be banned, forcing companies to spend the money they make back into the workers failed. But now we are in 2011, and since this is the Google Generation, we have effectively made a global community within a decade. Money, the paper bits, is not paper any more, it actually should be viewed as a hindrance. Because it cannot move as fast as light through the web.

Okay, try and step back a bit and see it all as a game, Ryan gets hungry, he needs new clothes, he needs a place to stay. But wondering the streets he sees many advertisements and now lusts for cars and jet-skis etc. Son, I hear you, just listen to my voice in your head, and I will give it all to you.

Charlie's first advice: Hold money tighter when it's tight. With only $500, resist and keep resisting to spend. Are you thirsty in the city? Don't buy a coke, drink some water at a public fountain. 'Oh I'm hungry God' , that's okay because he can buy a loaf of bread. And really, Ryan, what else do you need?

Ryan now needs a place to stay and needs somewhere now. Go to the churches my son, they will shelter you for now.

Back on the subject of money...

If you are poor, then you must live even more miserly, because the goal is to always STAY AHEAD. Try as hard as you can not to live paycheck to paycheck, but always manage to have some money left over when the pay comes. You must save save save, because Ryan is a fully grown man, and he has no-one to borrow off. Like me in real life (I am an orphan). He will not sit on the pavement asking for change, he must be self-sufficient and have the self dignity and respect to stand up and be a Man, so he will also resist borrowing money off his friends too. That way, he owes nothing to no-one, and will have no-one owing him. This is the way he must live as a poor man, like the Law of Diminishing Return in Economics, when the chips are down, they become more valuable. Understand?

to be continued

WHAT I DO AT NIGHTCLUBS TO SCORE WOMEN

Well, i am not some casablanca wannabee, but if you are a guy and reading this, you will get some hints. if you're a girl, then this would interest you too, cause ain't you curious?

Okay, entering the club. Most times it's looks that get you through the door. But failing that, walk towards the bouncers slowly with your wingman and get out some big cash notes and flash them around between you and your wingman, and start heading towards the doors, making sure they see you will the $$$ bills. then, casually grip the cash in your hand, nod assertively at the bouncer and walk through, cause they at least know you ain't no scrub. Failed? stop reading now

Everyone knows nightclubs is just like watching Lord of the Flies with the volume turned down, but got your ipod on. What I mean is it's just the music a game of me watching you watching him watching her. Anyways, clubbing is like watching crazy ppl dance around but cannot have a convo with him/her due to the music.

Moving on. You are thirsty. Tip, select a barperson to be your special friend for the night by tipping him/her BIG first time, laughs and etc. keep adding coins here and there into the tip jar. This will become vital as the night moves on when its real busy but you get served first. Approach the bar and spot a nice girl's butt and slide into the bar with justo next to her. Without any hesitation say something enthusiastic, something funny, and engage with her by asking her question. like if she's paying with a bunch of change (which everyone has in there pocket that night), you say, "breaking open the piggy bank tonight?" and look her in the eyes and burst out laughing, she should be laughing with you by now. Girl#1 completed.

Head for the dance floor. If you are a guy, go furtherest possible distance from another bunch of guys, or, "too many dicks on the dancefloor'. dont be a loner on a dancefloor, your just a wierdo to everyone else. I seek a nice spot inbetween two different groups of woohoo girls. Thinga are great, Girls#2 & 3, complete.

Seeing some dickhead checking his facebook in the club and go lay some major shit on him cause I dont understand how ppl now will rather play with their phones and not connecting with us.

Go to the cigarrette room in the club. Squeeze somewhere nice, relax, someone sit next to me, then we are all friends. I say "Shit damn girl you write that text message so damn fast im tryin to read a word and you wrote a sentence. Oh, and sorry dont mean to intrude. hahaha. havin a good night? (burp) whooooaaahh feeeling a bit pissed, hahaha."

Her: "No you're okay, I'm just sending a text to my boyfriend"

Me; "yeah no worries you want a drink?"

Her: "yes. Bourbon on the rocks thanks'

Me: "okay be back in 2mins"

yeah right see-ya later bitch, now you know what it's like to have your dreams dashed. Do not get that drink for her. ha!

Girl#4 fail

Hang-out at the front of the club and chill with the cute girls at the front and cloakroom. Girl#6 possibility, as you can actually have a conversation there.

Check my wingman's status, and see-ya laterz club, I got a headache.

by Charlie Lai

A certified Mathematician's guide to always win at the Casino

As someone who first entered the gaming floor at 16, since I pulled the 'nerd asian' look well, this blog entry will try and encaptulate my many lessons in my 20 year gambling career. But the most important lesson I learnt is this: If you believe in luck, you'd be inclined to believe in God. And, God never gave any easy rides, Noah built the Ark and the Jews built the pyrimids. God blesses the hard workers and those acts that benefits the world, and certainly not give ye you all the riches on a deck of cards.

Okay, lets win some money.

Let us presume that my initial amount x = $20.
You have mainly three options.
-play pokies
-play blackjack
-play roulette

Playing pokies?? no thanks, odds too far against. Many people ignore this because they only see 0.05c go at a time.
Now with only $20, you can only play at the lowest blackjack table, a $10 one, which only leaves you a 1 loss buffer. No, not enough resources yet.
Suggest going to a $5 computerised roulette table. You would not be able to go to a live roulette table unless you got more than $20. Using the computer roulette I can place two separate $1 bets plus a $3 bet somewhere else, which you would not be able to do on a real table, because the minimum would have to be more than $2-$5 each number.
Now, here's what to remember playing roulette. Firstly I'm assuming you know how to place a bet on the street, corners, outside boxes, if you don't, navigate away a tick and google it. But follow these rules:
1) At the start of playing, pick your lucky number. I pick 0, some pick 6, whatever, this number you must place at least the minimum bet on All the time. There's 36 numbers plus a zero. If you were go on for nearly forty betting sequences then surely logic dictats that your lucky number will come up, and probably at the nick of time.
2) Keep an eye on your resources, there is no use rushing through every bet, take your time, think about your next bet and make it when you feel good about it. My mother used to tell me this story about the way Casinos everywhere employed Evil Buddist Scorcerers, using ancient chants, feng-shui, all sorts of demonic energy to put all the "luck" on the owners. The Casino, it's lures and it's entangled floor. Beware, you're in Satan's world and everybody pays, bitch. Be warey of your thoughts, Jedi.
3) Always play big on last big payout. Always randomise the bet according to need and loss. Okay, you've been semi-lucky, maintaining a $30 level for about 40mins. I feel confident, and calculate a $15 would be desirable. Because I can nearly cover most the numbers with $1 or $2 bets. I also feel confident that the ball will fall within the first 12 numbers. 0-12. I use those chips to cover the top third segment heavily. I also calculate that it's okay to lose $15, as it is only $5 out of my pocket in real terms. Now, I'm assuming that the balls falls somewhere between 0-12, for argument's sake, and easily repeatable. Cha-ching, you would at least have an extra $70 pay-out. Giving you around $100, and after the big win my chip total is beginning to out-number the numbers available. I can play big fish in little pond syndrome. Cause if I capitalised on this change of odds, covering all the numbers, whereby all you do is hope that the ball falls on your biggest pile. (I can easily make $1,500 in less than 40 mins using this big pile everywhere thing).

But for me, with $100 in my machine, I'd be thinking about my next challenge...Blackjack. Cause working that shitty machine I outsmarted, I'm pushng the cash-out button. You only started with $20, you're doing okay, the first hundred is the hardest, and now you really got nothing to lose to make those risky calls to change the flow of the cards.

thank-you for reading this.
next blog Blackjack and Poker

My novel, Heaven's Coming Chpt 1-3

Heaven’s Coming
Chapter one

In the darkness a spark ignites 3 feet from the earth, glowing and pulsating. The light, the golden orb expands a small figure in the shape of an infant reveals itself. Slowly the light floats to the ground and lands the child. The naked baby falls into the shadows, cold and alone in the Nullabour Plain. Off in the distance a sound of a car approaches.
‘Honey, can you pass me the chicken in the back?’
She mumbles, slides her face across the seat belt.
‘Sara? Are you awake?’ He sighs and undoes his seat belt. Ruffling through the back seat mess the car swerves, he jolts around and overcorrects it. The car spins helplessly across the empty highway, for close to a minute, then stalls. Sara, eyes wide open gulps air. Henry grips the steering wheel, stares at the engine steaming into the night.
‘Do you hear that?’ wonders Sara. A faint sound of a crying infant could be heard across the road. ‘It’s a baby!, there’s a baby out there!’
‘What?’ Jake replies, ‘How’s that possible?’ He begins opening the door, and heads towards the sound. Sara undoes her belt and stands looking on from the car.
‘It’s a baby! A baby boy!’ Oh God what does this mean?’
The pair stood in silence and awe at this moment, knowing this result was more than just a coincidence. A moment changing the very core of their beliefs. Sara lectured in Anthropology, while her husband was in the faculty of Mathematics. Yet no theory they taught could fathom this miraculous moment.
‘Bring him here, let me see.’ Jake cradled the child to his wife, open armed. ‘He’s so beautiful, oh how we have wished for a baby boy…A little baby boy.’

18 years later…
Michael stood, basking in the rays of the sun’s warmth in the autumn of 2005 at the University of Western Australia. Barely making it in with an English Literature score of 51.7%, some examiner felt a little better that day when reading his ill-conformed essays. He ranked one of the lowest in his year for acceptance, barely scaping through on two D’s, two B’s and a A minus, all because he discovered pot with his mates at 14.
He carried a small backpack, one lined book, two pens and a pencil. He wore ratty denims and a checked blue and white shirt, the style at the moment. He had on his cool Converse black high cuts and he looked young, full of strength and full of wondrous plans for his educational career. Yeah, this is going to be awesome, he thought.
On the other side of campus a young lady walked into her lecture ready with laptop in arm. She tried hard, tried harder than a lot of other students. She only got into the Arts faculty because she had a family emergency during the exams. She knew that if she got straight A’s in copycat Law first year units she would be able to transfer. Her name was Susan. That was her plan, however God, the Alpha Omega of the Universe had another entirely different plan for her.
God sat enthroned, golden and white. He looked upon his angels, knowing full well that He had created them before time itself, in heaven. And now, with most of His angels usurped by Satan, his most beautiful Angel of all, God gazed upon his remaining loyal servants with pride and sorrow. Sorrow for the war to end all wars, to finally resolve the eternal dilemma, the freedom of mankind’s will.
‘Soldiers, our destiny cometh forth with great anticipation, for what is written must become, by the words of the Writer of The Book of Life. And what is written must come forth, for the Writer made this existence from start to end.’ Said God.
His Angels stepped forward one solitary step in unison.
‘My children, we must make this our purpose for this time. We must give the Saviour more time. Time to create his glorious Kingdom on Earth. So hear this, we must hold off the Minions of Satan at the Gates of Heaven, until the moment comes when the Messiah creates his destiny for the Will of Man and his Father.’
God, sitting on His throne of gold and light, stands, and steps a foot further. He raised his hand held above, His palms are angled at his Soldiers. Then in the centre of God’s palm a pin of light begins to spiral of orange, reds and white. The sparks gathers strength and mass and begins to emits a strong and powerful force of pure waves of love and creation. His Angles sway in unison, mesmerised by being filled with harmony and strength from God’s palms.
A tremorring silence befell Heaven. All knew and waited for the procured moment. It was not destiny for them, though. The Writer wills the universe as His creation of his thought, turned into what we know as exists by writing the Book of Life. God looks through the Gates of Heaven, where a mountainous, volcanic, fiery background could be seen, where demons took flight and gathered souls to fight against God, against being told what to do, or what is right or wrong, or what is worth submitting their very Souls for.
Back on Earth, Michael ran threw a barrage of meandering students, apologising for bumping and rushing through, he was late for his Philosophy 102 lecture. Usually being late was of no real consequence, but after seeing the spectacle the stern, sarcastic Lecturer made of one of the students coming through the doors he promised himself he would not be like that poor sod.
At the doors to the auditorium Michael approached silently and stealthily, making his way to the back row, on the floor. He took out his pad and just listened, constructing his self made form of note-taking, a page of arrows, circles and abbreviated sentences. In the corner of his page a drawing of a single flower cold be seen, and a sun above, and rays of light feeding it.
After the class he headed to Uni Tavern, the presence of Spring warmed the youth, adding vigour and shine in the backdrop of the University’s garden manicured colours, sparkling in the sun. Right now, mankind is at it’s perilous crevice, balancing between two conflicting forces. Right now, Satan basks in Hell, pushing through his devious plan. Michael side steps a young teenager, blonde and bronzed. A few steps later he finds a patch of grass, in the sunshine’s rays. He searches in his bag and recover’s his pink plastic lunchbox. While enjoying lunch, he gazes at the library building. Satan, looking so handsome and sculptured blonde, are encapsulated by his mighty black feathers of his wings. Satan’s ice-like blue eyes looked intelligent, manic and piecing. Satan, surrounded by peaks of jaggerred mountains and cliffs, encircles and strangles the lakes of fire, lava and sulphur. Smoke rises to a black sky and are criss-crossed with flying demons and evil spirits. Infront of Satan is a floating orb of crystal, with swirling red and whites and blacks spirals and moving in streams entangled.
Satan gets closer to the orb, and looks down into it. The swirls start to take shapes and then a view of a place on Earth appears. Satan sees Michael sitting in the sun, innocently eating his sandwich. Satan lifts his arm and feels the orb, and then grins.

Chapter two

Simon flicked a cigarette out of his packet and habitually lit it. ‘So what are you trying to say? That God is in heaven looking down at us?’
‘Well, basically, yes.’
‘What the? Are you serious?’
‘Yeah. Really.’
‘And what evidence do you have of this?’
‘None. And that’s great! I believe it to be true because I have faith that God is there, caring for our needs, lovingly guiding us to a better future. I just feel this to be true when I think about it, my heart tells me to have faith in God. And this faith feeds God back through praises and prayers and God grows too.’ Michael, half drunkenly grabs his beer and drinks.
Simon ashes and then takes a big puff. ‘Dude, you need to go back to the dark ages. Science and fact and research and experimental protocol defines what is real and not. Our knowledge of this must be based on something provable, something tangible and concrete, where our conclusion comes from debate and criticism and rigorous testing. If a fact can not abide by those rules then it is not fact, it is an untruth, a superstition and imaginary.’
‘Bud, I could prove the existence of everything on this world by the scientific method which only proves to me more that God exists. The seemingly chaotic mess of nature is infact not very chaotic at all. Everything has it’s place in the world. The rain and earth brings forth a flower. Which it powers from the sun’s rays then forms pollen and then comes a bee, part of a perfectly harmonious colony. There is order within everything, linked from one end of the life-cycle to another covering the whole spectrum from an electron to man’s skyscraper. This can not be an accident, because there would have an intelligent designer, because there could be no other way the universe could be formed so I could have a beer here and chat with you.’
Simon pauses, still unwilling to bow to this premise. He feels conflicted to his own precious logic. ‘Yeah?’ he moans. ‘Well, if God exists and is all loving then why does misery, pain and evil exist?’ Simon, grinned, knowing this probably the biggest anti-God rebuttal.
‘This is certainly a valid point, argued and examined by every famous philosopher and sage. Well this is my answer.’ Michael, sighs and takes another gulp. ‘When God did create the Universe, it couldn’t work unless there is the possibility of life creating life, and results propelled by the last result before. This is what makes this happen, the choices to arbitrarily going in this direction or that direction. So if created things are to grow and succeed the actual created thing must be given freedom to choose where it shall go. Everything is connected, from that hot bird there to the guy pouring the beers behind the bar. Even the matter of the Earth. From the crystals buried under our feet to the glaciers of antartica, all connected and rubbing against each other. So, why did this baby get murdered, how can God let this happened? Freedom of will. ‘Why did this cyclone destroy my home? Because a butterfly went to flight. All creation is fluid and connected, through air to earth, the earth to us. From me to you, it has to keep moving, and that is life, exactly how God wanted it to be. God didn’t bring evil, disease and cancer are from mutation, inherit in everything because that is the essence of the continuation of life in the future. Word.’ Michael giggled.
Simon, shocked by this elegant theory of all things, so eloquently put by a social deviate by this guy sharing beers with him. ‘So, say God does exist. Then what is the purpose?’
‘Are you asking me what is the meaning of life?’
‘Dude. Didn’t you listen to what I just said? Life and all events is created by choice, a free particle so the universe moves. So the very essence of you is that you can make choices, and that is all the meaning is there, the meaning of life rests with you.’
A comfortable silence and meditation proceeded. In burst of bubbly laughter Amanda strolls next them and carelessly throws her backpack onto the table. ‘Okay, which one of yous get to buy me a drink?’
‘Sure hun.’ Said Simon, and proceeded to the bar. Amanda plumps infront of Michael. ‘My maths lecturer can’t speak English. All the students don’t know what the hell he’s going on about. We look at each other shaking our heads, this guy has the English capability of a 4 year old.’
‘Mathematics right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You know what they say about Asians and maths. Go figure, hey?’
‘Yeah
‘Well you can look at this in another way. The laws of physics and maths are universal. This lecturer could be some sort of mathematical genius but come across as a dumb cyw$ cause he can’t say the word function properly. On the other hand, you are paying for your education and the university should be obliged to give you a lecturer that can be understood. What can you do? Well, you got some options. You can go to the student union and complain. Or you can make an appointment to see the Dean and tell him your problem. Or, which is what I would do, and that is to try harder in understanding him. Even though those pronunciations is off, they, nevertheless, remain constant. So, learn his words, and when he says it next, instead of going ‘what’ you just know what the meaning is.’
‘Michael you are so wise. How do you come up with all the answers?
‘It all just seems so obvious.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Ummm…dunno.’
‘oh, come on, what do you really want to do?’
‘What? When?’ Now?’
‘What you really want to be seen as.’
‘A man I guess.’
‘Jezus Michael you know how to side step don’t you? I think you are destined to be someone wonderful.’
‘Gosh Amanda, I never thought you felt that way.’
‘Pfft, as if.’
‘Ha ha, if only.’
Simon came crashing through holding three beers.
‘Cheers.’


In a cold dark icy centre hall of a massive fortress echoes moans and soft weeping could be heard. A shadow approaches a solid old granite alter, with carvings of dancing demons and snakes and lions and naked girls. The shadow darkens the alter. The Warlock, robed and decorated with satanic inscriptions lifts both his hands over the alter. The Warlock closes his eyes slowly and remains in deep meditation.
Through the arched windows high above fast and sharp gusts of wind start to descend onto the Warlock kicking up the dust below, and like a whirlwind, this storm gathers shape. The Warlock begins chanting some mysterious and foreboding words. Now, just a few feet above the Warlock a black cloud hovers, menacingly. Out from the shadows, from the far side of the room a smaller figure, also robed floats towards the alter. The Warlock is now in deep trance, accelerating the pace of his chants, growing deeper and louder. The smaller figure can be now seen, she has long, flowing dark hair, sapphire green eyes and a curved seductive form. She disrobes, now naked she lifts herself onto the alter ceremoniously. In the black cloud sparks and violent flashes of light begin collecting momentum. The naked woman has her eyes closed, relaxed and completely open.
The Warlock now stands silent, and screams and cries of horror could be heard from the black cloud. A lighting cracks a hole between the naked vessel’s legs, bouncing sparks erratically. She begins to moan a little, her womb pulsates. The Warlock’s bellowing calls reaches a crescendo causing a pillar of whirling mist connecting the vessel and the ominous cloud. Then a silhouette a being could be seen leaving the cloud and into the vessels womb, which keeps increasing in size.
She begins to convulse, her legs spread apart and screams in pain, louder and louder. Her belly moves here and there as she cries, until she becomes unconscious. Then dies. She is then born into the world. In a pool of blood the Warlock gently holds the child high and then roars some siren. He cradles the baby on his chest and shoulder and walks with it back into the shadows, then up the creaking staircase, down the hall and into a room, where a single bed lays ready. He places the baby there and leaves her be. Two days later the baby, named Azaria, is a fully grown twenty something woman, naked under the sheets. A knock on the door.
‘Your majesty, I am here to serve you. What is thy will?’
‘My father wishes to give you praises for releasing me. You will be held high in the ranks of the Dark Void.’
‘An honour, I am humbled.’
‘Good. Now tell me, Warlock, where is the Messiah?’
‘Not far from here.’

Chapter three

Out here it was all oil and sweat. Dirty and greased hands held cold beers while old spider webs trapped flies in the wooden corner. An orange ray of light chased up to the opposite corner as the door opened. In a black overcoat, black denim jeans and riding boots and holding a smoking cigar Raphael thumped into the outback pub. His rimmed hat was facing downwards, then lifting up and revealing his green-blue eyes under it’s shadow. With poise he walked to the bar and kicked a stool to the side and sat.
‘Beer,’ he ordered. Without a reply the barman poured. Raphael wiped sweat off his brow. When the beer was placed before him he reached in his pocket and felt for something. He takes out a small diamond. He gives it to the barman.
‘What’s this?’
‘Payment.’
‘Ummmm…sorry but-‘
‘It’s a diamond, doesn’t it worth anything to you?’
‘Ummm…I dunno. Wait, I’ll find out, I think Richie is a Geo.’ The barman steps closer to a man several stools down. The man looks closely at the diamond, nodding and putting it up against the light. He mumbles something to the barman. The barman returns.
‘Okay, this will be fine I guess. Where did you get this stone?’
‘It was given to me.’
‘Oh…But next time you should get it evaluated and exchanged for cash, I don’t usually take diamonds for payment. Where you from anyway?’
‘Around.’
The barman huffed and shrugged.
While looking around Raphael tried to gain his bearings. He did just come through The Curtain on a Harley. The Curtain that exists between Heaven and Earth. Raphael rode through it bike roaring about forty-five minutes ago just past Alice Springs. He missed the Earth. He looked at his hands from afar. He hadn’t seen himself in the mirror and he wondered what he’d look like this time round. Another gulp of beer.
‘Tell me, innkeeper, where’ res this town called Perth?’
The barman laughed,
‘Are you telling me you all out ere in the middle of nowhere and you ain’t know where Perth is?’
‘My enquiry amuses you?
‘I don’t know what trip you on but I’ll humour you. Out that door and head right. That’s West. Keep heading west, you carnt miss it.’
Raphael looked around, an odd few staring back at him. He grabbed his beer casually and finished it. A wipe of his mouth.
‘I need that fuel out there too. I’m sure what I gave you sufficed?’
‘Okay, mate. As much as you need.’
Raphael’s black overcoat kicked up a small cloud of dust, as he marched towards the doors. Into the hot bright Sun he nears his bike. While refilling his bike he drags half-hazoudly on his cigar. Once full he straddles the old heavy Harley Davidson, an emblem of a skull with wings shines on the fuel tank.
VRRROOOOOOOM VROOOOOOOM VRRROOOOOOM

And Raphael speeds closer to our Messiah.

Susan’s pony-tails and lip gloss made all the guys want to catch glimpses of her. She was photocopying some readings, the flashing light below her made twinkles in her eyes.
‘You know you could just about blame all the world’s problems on economic rationalism.’
‘What? Excuse me?’
‘What you’re photocopying. Economic Fundamentals and Theory, talk about brainwashing.’
‘What would you know?’
‘I know this much. When that that dude said that man fundamentally wants to look out for his own interests doomed our world to slavery.’
‘I sorta understand. But what can I do? I’m just following the steps.’
‘Yeah, me too, I guess.’
An awkward silence.
‘Names Michael, call me M#^~.’
‘Susan.’ They shake.
‘You busy?’
‘I got a bit of time. Why?’
‘Can I get you a hot chocolate, with whipped cream, two cherries and chocolate syrup?’
‘That does sound nice. Okay sure.’
Susan collected her bag and notes. Together they walked out and headed to the campus café.
‘If we dropped the premise of profit, the whole world would be different.’
‘Yeah that’s communism and that failed’
‘True…but I’m not advocating communism. I’m for a kind of social harmony.’
‘Hippie.’
Michael huffed a smile. Susan gazed at his olive skin, his long wavy locks of hair like some majestic lion. His dark deep wide eyes, compassionate and mysterious. Michael showed her a seat, then went off to fetch the drinks.
On the opposite side of the room dark haired goddess Azaria flicked through her Vogue. Her Bumble-Bee sunglasses wrapped around nearly half her face. She stares straight at Michael and he doesn’t notice. She pouts her lips and kisses the air like some serpent. Michael carefully brings the hot chocolate as arranged.
‘So tell me about yourself.’
Susan half rolled her eyes. ‘Ummm…I like cooking, I like trying to do those complicated recipes. I got heaps of cooking stuff. I go online and search for something really challenging. And then some friends come over and taste it. It’s heaps fun.’
‘Wow. Awesome.’ He smiled at her beautiful face with an odd freckle here and there. A slight pause.
‘So what about you?’
‘I like write. Be nice to publish something. A novel. A romantic action. Sort of, anyway.’
‘Romance?’
‘Yeah I know. Sounds a bit corny doesn’t it?’
‘Oh, I dunno, sounds…nice.’

Azaria tipped her sunglasses down, her eyes aimed squarely at Michael. She caressed her coffee, sensually. She felt for her red velvet purse next to her and pulled out her mobile. Opening it she takes a few photos of him. She smiles at the result. Azaria plays with her hair, fantasising over Michael. The table vibrates, she picked up the mobile.
Azaria: Yes?
William: My highness, apologies for this intrusion. Our Lord has delivered a message.
Azaria: Fine, I will meet you at Windsor Coven.
Azaria hangs up. She gathers her belongings and straightens her hair. She glides past Michael and seeing an opportunity she fakes tripping over Michael’s backpack.
‘Sorry’
Michael gazes over to Azaria, and begins to look mesmerised, like a hypnotic trance as he falls into the mysterious, alluring eyes of Azaria.
‘Sorry, my fault. Dumb bag.’
‘It’s okay.’
Awkward silence.
Azaria puts her hand out.
‘I’m Azaria. First-year.’
‘Hi, it’s Michael, this is Susan.’
They all shake hands.
After a bit of polite banter, Azaria walks off and heads for the oval. As she goes through the doors, she turns only just a little, and meets Michael in the corner of her malevolent eyes.

I wasted somebody

today someone pissed me off to the point that i punched him in the face. it didnt go on for long, he screamed stop and i did. that guy had been on all our nerves of late, especially that stunt he pulled two days ago. thats twice i had to punch someone. the first one was neccessary, he was too stoned to snap out of it, he said he deserved it. this time i couldnt handle the disrespect anymore, and snapped. so i lost a friend, but why be a fake friend and act like you like them. f@$@, some guys just need a few quick jabs to the head to get their heads straight.