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THE CATONIC VERSES

As told by His Majesty Siegfried, King of Uberheim, November 28, 1998

This is truly a mundane tale, that I have told to Uberheim, when it was ten people at the most.  But people keep requesting it, over and over again.  Itís about an individual whom we used to know, by the name of Joe Catone.

Picture if you will, a lurker about six feet tall, thin, wide pie-shaped blue eyes, and a hair cut like Moe.  With a twin brother, who looked just like him, by the name of Anthony (pronounced Antíny), who happened to have a mustache.  Two very Space-Age individuals, who were, perhaps, thirty-three or thirty-four at the time of this story.

Joe Catone used to drink. [holding aloft a bottle of Budweiser] This is what he used to call the Grail.  He used to imbibe to a such a point, that he would drink himself back into the Stone Age.  After drinking about about a case of beer, if you showed him a VCR or a video camera he would go into a convulsion.  Heíd say "What is that?  Thatís fucking SPACE AGE!"  Heíd be blinded by science, as the song goes.

In any case, the more he drank, the more prehistoric things got.  One time, he came over my house, and I had just gotten a new VCR.  He was thoroughly inebriated.  I tried to show it to him, tried to show him how to program it and all the little things that it did.  I tried to explain it to him, and his response was, "Ah, you know Tommy, you know thatís Space Age!!  Get rid of that!  Do you know how many double-double packs you coulda got for that??!?

Now, first of all, a six-gun is a six-pack of beer.  A double pack is a twelve-pack.  A double-double pack is two-times a twelve-pack, equaling thus, a case.  And this used to be the standard equipment for his lurkings.

In any case, Joe Catone and his brother Antíny came over my house one evening.  A Space Age character by the name of Hodge was also there, who is horrific to most, and who has since been banished to Herbheim.  Anyway, he was parked out front with his car.

Joe and Antíny work all week landscaping, an entire 40-hour week, all to run their lurk on a Friday.  Theyíd buy a Space Age amount of cocaine, in a mundane sense, actually crack.  They run the beers afterwards to bring them down from that.

So what happened was, that they were out of money.  Itís 12 oíclock midnight on a Friday night.  Theyíre sitting on the curb outside my house. Joe Catone and Antíny Catone.  Joe Catone is on a ten-speed bicycle.  Antíny Catone pulls out his last $60.  Theyíre both jonesing out of their faces.  Their eyes are the size of pie plates, the veins bulging from one side of the retina to the other.  Theyíre both out of their fucking minds in the street.  And Antínyís like, "Ah JESUS, you know, Iíd like ta have a wife aní kids.  But I know that ainít gonna happen.  It ainít gonna happen, aw Jesus!!  Ya gotta do me a favor Joe!  I got sixty fuckiní dollars here, Joe, sixty fuckiní dollars. All I need is another hit Joe!" So he pulls out his last sixty dollars, and he hands it to his brother Joe, who pedals off like a maniac on his ten-speed bicycle.  Heís grinding the gears and leaving fire if he could, on his ten-speed bicycle.

In the meantime, Antíny is jonesing. And jonesing. And jonesing his fucking face off on the curb in front of my house at about 12:30 at night. And heís holding onto himself because he needs to catch his next lurk. And heís sent his brother Joe on a mission, and heís waiting. And an hour and a half passes by, and heís rocking for an hour and a half like this, screaming, "Aw JESUS, ah God!!" My neighbors came out, they had all their lights on, theyíre putting spotlights on him and shit! Heís like, "AW JESUS! AW GOD!!!!" for an hour and a half straight.

Finally, his brother Joe returns, grinding gears on his ten-speed bicycle coming up the street.  And Hodge is still parked out front, go figure!

Now, they both get in the back seat of Hodgeís car.  And, Joe Catone has something that he says -he says- is $60 worth of cocaine.  To turn it into crack, what they need to do is pour water and baking soda into a spoon, and cook it over a lighter, and itís supposed to turn into this rock-thing for them to smoke. I donít know, but this is what theyíre running.

So in any case, theyíre in the back seat of Hodgeís car.  Joe Catone hands Antíny Catone a little sack of something which he thinks to be coke.
Figure this: Heís been gone an hour and a half.  And was only about a fifteen minutre bike-ride.  So you figure out what happened.
So Antíny pours a little coke into the spoon.  And he pours a little baking soda into the spoon, and a little bit of water.  And he starts cooking.  And heís cooking, and heís cooking.  Now normally, it only takes about 20 seconds, to a half a minute to "come back", itís when the water evaporates and it would "come back", according to the Catones.  So heís burning the spoon, and heís burning it, and heís burning it.  And his damn lighterís going out and heís burning it, and his fingers are all getting fucking black and shit.  And his fucking fingers are starting to shake, because he knows somethingís wrong. "AW JESUS!!!!!!AH GOD!!!!!!!JOE YA DID IT, OH GOD!!! IT AINíT COMINíBACK!!! IT AINíT COMING BACK!!!!!!"
So he figures out that it ainít coming back, itís not real, itís flour that Joe Catone brought back!  So he was cooking a cake basically.  Flour, baking soda, and water in a fucking spoon.   And heís burning his fingers off, the fucking spring comes out of the lighter, hits the roof of the car, and his fucking fingerís on fire.  And he figures out, that it must be flour.  He takes a taste.  He tastes nothing. "AW JESUS!!!!!"  He slams down the lighter and the spoon. "Aw Jesus ya did it!!!  Aw Joe!!!
SIXTY FUCKINí DOLLARS! AND I STILL AINíT GOT NO FUCKINí PRODUCT!!!"

He hurls Joe across the seat.  Joe Catoneís head spins around, like the fucking exorcist.  360 degrees, in a fucking circle!  Joe starts to get out of the car, "Aw, ah-ah-ah-itís all good, I-I-Iím gonna go back there, they fucked me, Iím gonna go back."  And as heís getting out of the car, heís pulling the sack of the real stuff out of his pocket, and sniffing it.  All of a sudden, his brother sees him: "Aw, ya got somethiní!"  He grabs him by the neck, and they start beating each other like fucking Neaderthals in the road, using fucking windmill punches and drop kicks.  They looked like two fucking apes going at it!  They looked like two fucking Moeís holding a WCW match.  They were drop kicking each other, strangling each other, absolutely fucking horrific.

In any case, they both fucking knocked each other out in the middle of the street.  We dragged them to the curb, and then we dragged them into the back yard, and then we dragged them into lawn chairs.  We figured they could sleep there for the night.  Wrong.

Joe woke up, heís sniffing around where my brotherís place is at, and he smells spare-ribs cooking.  Sniffs it, says "Aw, what ya got there, whaddya call it- spare ribs?  Iíll have some!"  Fucking opens the door and walks right in. "Spare ribs?  Gimme some!"  And heís the type of guest who wonít leave.  He comes, and he will never fucking leave.  Heís like an intensified Beetlejuice.  I mean, he is something you wouldnít even wish on your worst enemy.  He wouldnít leave.  Eventually he drank enough beer to kick down and pass out.  We dragged him back to the lawn chair.  We figure theyíre going to sleep for the night, wake up some time in the morning, and then theyíre going to go home.  Wrong!

About sunrise, Antíny finds it within his fucking mind, to begin an assault on his brother with a piece of lawn furniture.  I hear crashes, and I look out my window, and I see Joe Catone moving like a crab across my yard, with a piece of fucking lawn furniture on his fucking forehead! Iím like, ĎJesus Christ!  What the fuck are these people doing?í  And theyíre fucking beating each other with lawn chairs in my backyard at fucking sunrise.

So they pass out again.  This time, we pull them in the car, drive them to their apartment, pull them out, put them on the stoop, and left.

In any case, not three days later, Joe Catone was on a railroad track.  The railroad tracks going into Uberheim as a matter of fact.  He was swigging many space age grails.  The inbound 2:38am express came down the track.  West to East.  Heís seen the train; heíd seen the lights in the distance.  He continued to drink.  He dismissed the train as something Space Age.  "Itís Space Age, it donít fucking exist!"  Thatís the way they talked, no exaggeration.  In any case, the train came within a hundred feet, and he was pinwheeling around the track.  He refused to accept the presence of this space age machine.  Anything modern did not exist after about 24 beers.  Heíd see a plane in the sky and think it was a pterodactyl!  He drank himself into another dimension.

In his final innvocation, at 2:38 in the morning, facing the express doing about 70, he was seen to be doing a push-up on the track, holding forth a beer into the face of the train, screaming,
"ITíS ALL FUCKINí SPACE AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGEEE!!"
A last act of defiance, he dismissed the train.

P.S.  Body parts from Joe Catone were being picked up for the next week and a half!  They say that the Bone of Catone still lurks by that tressle.

Dancwart chimes in here (to the tune of "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer")
Joey got run over by a train car
Thatís what he gets for drinking on the tracks
You can try to light up baking soda
But like Antíny said "Aw it ainít coming back!"

Siegfried: And that concludes my story!

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