We got our first client.
Howling. Ferocious screams from nether worldly pitts. Demented wailing from beyond. Inhuman screeches of that which shouldn't live. That was what he: (our first client) was complaining about.
The dogs next door.
Oh right. Probably should begin with a more substantial introduction. My name is Simon Kearns, and I was once a psychologist at Bourkeley institute for mental health in Hexton, Australia. Things took a strange curve in my career, when after twenty years of working the insane circuit of Bourkeley-- I became disillusioned with the crooked institution. There was some controversy which I won't go into in detail. I lost my job. Now-- along with my receptionist : Angelica Barback we have started our own freelance company: "ELDRITCH psychology":
http://ift.tt/1XbRcDj
"An independent firm dedicated to responding to our clients needs without judgement. Exploring the invisible as a possible manifestation of the unknown, the paranormal, that which is thus far foreign to science."
Ferris 'Hughsey' Hughes responded to our online marketing adverts --and called us directly --at our new offices in Sydenham on Wednesday.
He seemed like a pretty friendly chap. No apparent history of mental illness. (As far as I can find recorded evidence for, that is.) It seems that 'Hughesy' had picked up on the phrase 'paranormal' above all else. But it's nice to know the ad was effective.
The idea of installing a recorder and automatic transcriber into the phone-line with a live databasing system was mine, one that I'm rather proud of --after the relative success of our first case. I say relative, for although we couldn't exactly help 'Hughsey' with his problem, at least I can be sure the system works --(although the vocal translater sometimes makes some spelling and grammatical errors). Well --here are the rather eerie transcripts of my phone conversations with Ferris Hughes. Our first conversations he called from a landline, (his home phone I believe), but the latter ones were all from his mobile phone. After the last call --I came to wonder wether Mr Hughes wasn't indeed suffering from some form of mental deficiency -- I mean the alternative is ....well.....
TRANSCRIPT OF CASEFILE : FERRIS HUGHES. TELEPHONY TRANSCORDING:
FH: G'day mate. Is this Elgritch Sarcology?
AB: ----uh---ELDRITCH psychology. That's correct. You're speaking with Angelica. How can I help you?
FH: Oh fuck. Straight from the ad eh? You sound like a pretty fit bird for a Sarcology practice.
AB: Oh. Uh. Thanks. I'm going to transfer you through to our onsite para-psychologist Mr Simon Kearns. Is that ok Mr...?
FH: Ferris Hughes darlin'. You can call me Hughsey. That's what me mates call me.
AB: Transferring you now Mr Hughes. Please hold.
SK: 'Gel?
AB: Simon!!! We have our first client. It's a..Mr.. Ferris Hughes. I'm transferring him through now, is that ok?
SK: Send him through Angel.......<click>........(cth--unk)......ELDRITCH Psychology, this is Simon Kearns. Can you hear me Mr Hughes?
FH: Hello? Struth. There's a lot of you aren't ya? What happened to the fit bird I was speakin' ta?
SK: This is Simon Kearns, Mr Hughes......
FH: Call me Hughsey. All me mates do.
SK: Alright then .....um....is there an unexplorable invisible ailment we can help you with Mr ...Hughsey?
FH: Huh?
SK: We...specialise here... At ELDRITCH psychology --in taboo and unconventional psychological matters without judgement or mandatory personal intrusion, exploring the invisible....
FH: Paranormal bludgers --ain't ya. Yeah I know all that. I read the flamin' ad ya gallah. Listen. It's good to see some people are still fighting the good fight. You can't be that bad I reckon ---compared to most bastards. Institutions are all full of dumb-cunts and no-hopers these days. Not two brains shared between a thousand --you know what I mean?
SK: Yes--I think I do Mr Heu---
FH: Bloody lot of morons. Whole country's falling apart from the seams. The industry's are corrupted to the core. I should know too --I used to be a cop. Police force is an absolute joke now, just like all the other beauracratised, corporatised Jew infested industries. Ya can thank the Yanks for that.
SK: Right. Uh...while I don't share your racial beliefs --- I can almost relate Mr Hughsey. I found the same beauracratic limitations when I was working at--
FH: Wankers. Absolute wankers! Anyway. I quit the force ya see. No reason to be a part of something that segmented. It's like workin' for McDonalds --(workin' for the New South Wales police force these days). Ya get what I'm sayin' mate?
SK: Yes--- I--
FH: It's a bloody joke. You know ---the state police force is one of the biggest police forces in the Western world? No wonder its a right bloody mess. They'll outsource the whole bloody thing to Pakistan in a few years--you mark my words.
SK: Yes. That's very interesting Mr......Hughsey. What seems to be the--
FH: Seven generations of my family were in the NSW Police force Mr Kearns. Seven generations. Me grandfather would turn in his grave if he saw what had become of the state police force now. Turning in his absolute bloody grave I tell ya. The Hughes family came out here on the early convict boats Mr Kearns. Weren't barely such a thing as Sarcology then and the world probably weren't none the worse for it! Whaddaya ya think about that sentiment? The Hughes men have been watching this land as long as any white fella, you understand what I'm sayin' shrink? Our feet have walked here since it was nothin' but swamps and dirt. Only the abo's have more of a claim to know what happens in the darkness of the Aussie bush, and what they tell about in their 'dreamtime legends'. You better believe I've heard some shit in my time ---and seen some shit too.
SK: Paranormal sightings I presume you are ref---
FH: Call it whatever you want mate. I don't care about gossips or rumours. But when the crock comes out of the water--someone's gotta kill it. Ya get me?
SK: Yes Mr Hughsey. When a problem comes along---
FH: Don't be smart Shrink! Now shut yer trap and listen for a minute will ya? My ancestors were part of the New South Wales police force since it first started. We was just a civilian force in the old days. Jermyn Hughes was a convicts son, but he was born with a better moral code than his old man, who only stole a loaf of bread for his family--not such a crime anyway, eh. It was Governer Arthur Phillip what started the force, back in 1789. It were just a simple practical militia, out to protect the people back then, the men called it 'The night watch'. If ya were to ask me, it's my opinion that that old model of policing was better than any of the regulated, institutionalised, beauracratised, bastardised facsimiles we've had since then. Jermyn Highes passed down the original wisdom of the 'night watch' to every proceeding generation, including meself. You know how the night watch started out Mr Kearns?
SK: I---uh...
FH: Nothing more than eight of the most highly regarded convicts appointed by Governor Phillip himself. The damned leading the damned. No wonder the institution has been ravaged with corruption and paranoia ever since it was begun. Still the set up was simple, bunch of blokes with guns and torches, and no rules except for decency and common sense. I was an incriminate Sergeant before I quit the force, I could have climbed as high up the ladder as I liked, if i thought the damn thing was at all worth climbing. My grandfather Bardon Hughes used to say that one day the force would grow so corrupt it wouldn't serve its function anymore, he had this idea that the Hughes family ought to reinstate 'The Night Watch' under its initial principles. Just a bunch of armed blokes with the community at heart, protecting the borders, keeping secrets that would drive most ordinary people insane. So after I had had enough, I decided I would do just that!
----CLICK----
(the phone hangs up)
----Beep---Click-----
AB: Simon?
SK: Oh. It's you Angelica.
AB: How did it go? Do we have a case?
SK: Well...um...it's hard to tell. Mr Hughes spent some ten minutes telling me about the New South Wales police force and then hung up.
AB: Do you think he will call back?
SK: I have no idea.
AB: Hang on. There seems to be someone dialling through now--
----CLICK-----
SK: Angelica? ... Angelica?...
--------bzzzzzzztt---------
((((Three minutes of silence followed by a clicking noise)))))
SK: Angelica? Is there something wrong with the phone lines?
FH: You again? I wanted to talk to the fit bird.
SK: Mr Hughes!
FH: But now that I've got you back-- I may as well tell you about the case I could use your help with---well?
SK: Yes! Of course Mr Hughes.
FH: I've started up the night watch again you see. But there's something in my neighbourhood which is far beyond the power of normal human intervention. Dogs, Mr Kearns.
SK: Dogs? Uh, yes...I see.
FH: Barking with the mouth of hell itself. Hell hounds!! In the butcher shop next door to my apartment.
SK: I see. You believe the dogs next door to you are somehow supernatural? Have you experienced the dogs merely auditorily or is it merely an idea of your imagination? Is it a voice inside your head telling you the dogs are paranormal somehow?
FH: Don't insult me Mr Kearns. You're a believer yourself, even though you hold your skepticism to your sarcological sciences. Aren't ya mate? Listen. There's more to the erosion of the police institution than meddling beaurocrats and cheques from multi national corporations. The Hughes family watched whilst it all transpired behind the scenes. The 'Night Watch' was replaced by the Sydney foot police in 1790. Jermyn recalls some funny business going on even then. Behind every power structure--is a bigger power structure Mr Kearns. In 1803 constable Joseph lukers body was found in the morning with the guard of his cutlass embedded in his skull --the first murdered police man of New South Wales. The official stories surrounded natives and convicts doin' the act, but my ancestor Jermyn Hughes believed that there was something much greater at work than any violent native, as he recorded in notes-- and his diary which he passed down. According to a family conspiracy, Joseph Luker found out more than he was entitled ta. Ya get me? What that information was? Well, accordin' to old Jermyn, the New South Police force was facing an early coup de tat, by folks with other interests. Ol' man Jermyn passed on the secret which young Joseph Luker tol' him before he died. He told him so himself!
SK: I see Mr Hughsey. And this all somehow has to do with your dogs next door?
FH: Keep listenin' Mr Kearns. You might just learn something. In 1850 ---all the colonial independent police forces were united under the first inspector general, then of course the first New South Wales State police headquarters was formed in Phillip Street in Sydney. Acourse, the Hughes family knew what was really happening, behind the bloody scenes, because Jermyn passed down the secret Luker told him, we kept secret the knowledge that had him killed --kept it secret for countless generations. A secret society Mr Kearns. A secret society pulling the strings of the New South Wales police force.
SK: I see... And uh.... Did your ancestor Jermyn Hughes pass down the name of this secret society?
FH: Only what he could learn from Luker. According to family stories-- Luker was erratic and nervous when he spilled the beans, Jermyn couldn't understand all of his hollerin'. Only that he was afraid of a group called 'The brotherhood of Serbara'. Or 'Sarberry.'
SK: The brotherhood of Serbia? Could your ancestors have feared a foreign influence in Australian politics and institutions?
FH: Serbia? Where the bloody hell is that? China? I don't know anything about Serbia Mr Kearns. All I know, is that whoever this group are-- they are very powerful--- and--- they are using dark forces.
SK: What kind of dark forces Mr Hughes?
FH: How many kinds are there Mr Kearns? Satanic magic. Dark rites. The Wolf of Wall Street has left his hidey hole in the U.S, and word has he's shacking up in Cambodia, with his agents all over Australia. 911 was the changing of the guard. Git it? SK: I don't really understand what you mean. FH: That's because you can't hear the sounds of Tindalos mate. I live on Marrickville road Mr Kearns. Not by my choice I can tell you. Like a singhalese ghetto, Marrickville. If ya ask me, it's where Sydney ends and Asia begins. The reason I moved here is because the Hughes family have been following a wealthy Vietnanese lineage, who my grandfather believed were linked to this 'brotherhood of Serbera. Serbia or whatever'. We've been watching them for decades. My father wrote detailed reports on a Fu Vinh Hung, who moved from Vietnam in the sixties. That's why I bought my apartment looking down onto the Vinh Hung butcher. Now you want to answer me this Mr Kearns? If the Vinh Hung family arrived in Australia in the nineteen sixties...then why is there a gold plate dedicated to the Vinh Hung family in Marrickville Town hall, which was opened in 1922? -----<Click> -----------
(The phone hung up again. But sensing that the loquacious Mr Hughes was probably going to call again, I decided to spend the interim between the next call doing some research and making a note to check wether the recording system was causing problems in the phone line.) The first thing I looked up was the location of this 'Vin Hung butcher'. I found it alright, I presume that the apartment opposite, above the bank of Sydney might be Mr Hughes apartment:
http://ift.tt/1qpUN65
I then spent an hour or so doing some detailed library searches, reading through my psychological journals and various occult books ---to both pre-empt the style of Hughes delusions, and understand the background of his mythological obsession. As it turned out-- I learnt a lot more than I had imagined I would.
----TWO HOURS LATER----
---click-----<bzzzzzzzzzzzttttt>----
SK: Angelica?
AB: Simon. You have to do something about this guy--he's getting on my nerves. He insists on talking to only me. He's flirting with me and making innapropriate jokes.
SK: Mr Hughes again?
AB: Yes. I'm putting him through now Simon.
SK: Thankyou. I'm sorry Gel. Hopefully we can get to the bottom of this soon. -----click-----
FH: That you Kearns?
SK: Yes it's me, Mr Hughes. The line is slightly crackled, are you still at home.
FH: (Whispering) No. I'm inside Vinh Hung's Butcher. I snuck in again Simon. Better not talk too loudly. Have you found out anything for me yet Simon?
SK: Yes. As a matter of fact Mr Hughes I've been doing some research for your case and I think I've dug up something that will greatly interest you.
FH: I knew you'd be good for it Kearns. Lay it on me doc.
SK: first though... Are you not perhaps breaking the law by entering the butcher shop without a warrant Mr Hughes?
FH: It's all above board Mr Kearns. Tell me what you bloody-well know.
SK: Well. I shouldn't have much to tell you Mr Hughes--given you haven't even explained in any detail about the dogs who have disturbed you. What I did find however, after searching around online libraries-- is there is a match to your apparent secret society. At the very least, there is a parallel to your conspiracy--- in the history of imperial France.
FH: (Whispering) No surprise there, mate --uh -- Mr Kearns. Lay it on me mate.
SK: Well. There was a popular conspiracy in 15th Century France-- which revolved around an Eastern or Asian secret society called 'The brotherhood of Cerberus'.
FH: That's them Mr Kearns. I've seen their logo inside the shop just now. I was going to tell you after your research. But please---go on---i'm listening---
SK: It's a rather strange conspiracy, only recorded in the annals and diaries of eccentric members of the French aristocracy. According to a member of the Woelmont de Brumagne family ---'the brotherhood' were somehow tied up in the history of Charcuteries. There is an entire diary of one Jacia Woelmont de Brumagne which outlines the conspiracy tracing it right back to the 1st Century. According to the diary of Jacia, Strabo made mention to a family V.H-- who oversaw the import of salted meat from Gaul. He references various obscure Roman scrolls which refer to a series of laws which regulated the proper production of pork joints. Specifically in lieu of a family coat of arms on the scrolls which also bears the initials V.H --which apparently points to the existence of this 'brotherhood of Cerberus' right back then-- and their links to Charcuterie --a fact he presents as evidence for this group having their claws embedded in French meat and poultry production. All of the conspiracies focus around a growing Eastern presence in 15th century France, during the 'great organisation'. During this time--Local guilds began to regulate tradesmen---The guilds producing charcuterie were called charcutiers, and many had a coat of arms to symbolise their guilds which bore a great resemblance to early Roman butcher groups. The Woelmont de Brumagne account also claims that the recipe for making sausages and curing salted chopped meat into tubes--was originally transferred to France via an Asian scroll which was brought to Europe --by an annual highly decadent procession of hooded figures --who were in league with some of the French aristocracy.
FH: Good job Kearns! I knew I could count on you. Can you do something else for me? I'm going to sneak back out of Vin Hung's now. I'll call you back in twenty minutes. I've seen some things down here Mr Kearns. There's an underground cave --buried a thousand feet beneath Vinh Hung's------ Secret tunnels. Libraries filled with black magic books. Weird marks in the walls, maybe blood. I have to test the sample. There's big rusty cages in the walls Mr Kearns. I'm sure they're sleeping now, but I have no doubt that this is where they keep the beasts. Have you ever heard the aboriginal legend of the Giant Devil Dingo Mr Kearns?
SK: I--uh....
FH: The aborigines tell stories about generations of the devil dingo's children who were driven into the earth. The names on the cages Mr Kearns. I need you to look them up. Gwyffari. Gwyllgi-tan. Ido-liar son of the gurt dog. Grimbarr. Gum-Garmr. Cwn Ap Nudd. Gotta go----hach!---uerrhhhh----<click---chink>
(Well then... Once more I found myself baffled by the nature of Mr Hughes complex belief system. This was nothing like my previous psychologist job at Bourkeley. I had yet also had a chance to speak to Mr Hughes in regards to compensation and payment. Nonetheless, this was my first client, and if I had to work pro-bono until business picked up--well then--that's what I must do.) I ran some checks on the names mentioned by Ferris Hughes, also pulling some reference books off the shelf 'Christian Names of different languages and cultures of the world.' --and ---'Mythological creature names : alphabetic index.' Meanwhile, I had tracked down something else Mr Hughes had mentioned that intrigued me. Hughes had referenced the dreamtime legend of 'The great devil dingo' the name had sounded familiar, and quickly-- I found a video on youtube retelling the myth popularised by the horrific artwork of Australian indigenous artist 'Dick Roughsey'. I remember seeing a retelling of the story myself and finding it oddly chilling. This is the video I reference and watched:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QKyJdAsrj4
Upon watching the video and noticing the protagonist names the 'Butcher bird brothers' I began to question exactly what I was dealing with in the personality of Mr Hughes. There were three options as far as I determined, one was that Mr Hughes genuinely believed in paranormal or supernatural phenomena. By this measure he was only technically insane by nature of how deep his obsession was, or wether he was in danger of harming himself or other people by his beliefs. The second option was that Mr Hughes observations were at least partly true: that the conspiracy he mentioned was passed down by his family, that there were indeed loud dogs living in the basement next door to him--but perhaps his sense of drama was inflated, and he naively believes the loud barking to come from an unnatural or demonic source.
Then of course there was the third option. An option I was beginning to consider with increasing accent. In a professional scenario, the third type of illness is often known in Australian institutions as 'Pichushkin syndrome'. Alexander Pichushkin was a Russian serial killer who developed psychopathic traits after an accident and resolved to kill 64 people for every square on his chessboard. In my time at Bourkeley I had come across many psychopathic and deceitful personality types. We referred to clients as 'Pichuskin types' when they would invent a kind of game to manipulate the case worker ---by mixing false facts with real ones-- trying to subvert the roles of psychologist and patient ---and play with their doctors minds.
Although Hughes had seemed rather friendly, I couldn't help but note --many similarities between his personality modes and those of other Pichuskin psychopaths I had worked with in the past. For one, his inability to listen --and steadfast goal to only value his own train of thought and the sound of his own voice. The second was a glib superficiality and vanity--as exercised in his use of the introductory nickname 'Hughsey' --his distraction and hunger to flirt with Angelica in spite of the so called 'importance' of his story. I don't half think I detected a trace of manipulation in his phone manner from the very beginning. Then there were the tenuous coincidences-- it seemed hard to believe that The Hughes family happened to pass down a conspiracy which had not existed since 15th Century France. Then there was the way he had prompted me with 'The brotherhood of Serbera' --Surely--if his family had been tracking the Vinh Hung family for three generations with a link to a secret society then they would at least know the name of that secret society. It was almost like Hughes had wanted me to discover the Cerberus cult on my own --to allow me to persuade myself of his truth---- a common trick of fraudsters and deceivers.
But what had sealed my disbelief for the testimony of Ferris Hughes-- had been the 'Devil dingo' video. The forged synchronicities--- the 'butcher bird brothers' tying in with the fact that the Vin Hung family owned a butcher shop. The link to a conspiracy about Charcuterie. Of course the names only further imprinted the story which Hughes wanted me to buy into. That some ancient race of prehistoric giant dingos dating back into Australia's mega-fauna past--had existed on the fringes of the world we saw. The names weren't mythical creatures in their own right, but originated from lingual forms constant with mythical animals from various cultures of the world. Gigya or the 'Yeth hound' the name which surrounded an old European legend of a headless dog who haunted passers by and travellers. Gwyllgi --the Welsh myth of a 'black dog of darkness'. 'If you meet the black dog once', goes an old welsh saying --'it will be for joy. Twice, and it will mark great sorrow. Three times ---death.' Then there was mention of the 'gurt dog' or black shuk -- Garmr the Viking hellhound linked to the infamous Fenrir, a hellhound who howls from hel when ragnarok begins. There was a deviation in Hughes list of names which bore semblance to Cwn Annwn --another welsh hellhound who was owned by Gwynn Ap Nudd, the underworld king of fairy folk.
For whatever reason I began to believe that Ferris Hughes was intentionally manipulating me to believe the evolution of ancient wild dogs in some pre-historic demonic lineage. Feeding me those names on the 'cages' were merely the icing on his cake of deception. Perhaps he was dangerous, but then maybe he was just some practical joker --who had seen an advertisement for the 'paranormal' and thought he'd fuck around with the staff.
http://ift.tt/1XbRcTB
I wonder if Hughes really was an incremental sergeant--if it was true it wouldn't be so hard to find the information on him that I would need. Unfortunately, I didn't get to do that research before Ferris Hughes rang me for the last time. After this call, two days passed and I still haven't heard from Ferris Hughes. Perhaps he has moved his pranks on to a new and unsuspecting victim.
---<click>--------
AB: Simon. Are you there?
SK: Yes, Miss Barback. Any word from the enigmatic Mr Hughes?
AB: Yes. Uh. I've got him on the line now....uh--
SK: Oh dear. He hasn't been harassing you again has he? You know we can call the police if your feeling threatened --I'm beginning to grow tired of our old friend 'Hughsey'. AB: No! Um--no it's nothing like that! Actually he sounds rather strung out. I think you better speak with him Simon.
SK: Oh. Of course Angelica. Put him through.
---<cth--uk------cth-----uk>------
FH: ......f......for the love......for ......(heavy breathing)
SK: Mr Hughes?
FH: ...the damnedest thing.... Its...
SK: Mr Hughes? Can you hear me.
FH: Kearns! Jesus H Christ. I don't think I'm going to get out of here Kearns. Promise me you'll do something with the information I've given you.
SK: Mr Hughes. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on. Are you having the auditory hallucinations again? Is it the dogs?
FH: ...not right.....the most....I--I---I---I never dreamed of anything like this Simon. The---the first time I broke into Vinh Hung's it just seemed like a normal butcher. That's the f---f---faccade...you understand? Bu---but this time I found a door to the cellar underneath the refrigerator. That's when I saw the insignia of the brotherhood. Written on a gold plaque on the doorway. The--the key was sitting on a pillow..... like they wanted me to find it. Such exquisite carvings--like nothing on earth --an almost alien culture. I went down the staircases and tiny hallways, which is when I found the rooms with the bookshelves, and the papyrus. Oh god. That's when I called you Simon--s
SK: What is it Ferris? What have you seen?
FH: Australia is only--c--couple if hundred years old---I--ii--in terms of us white folk. Abo's been here for 40,000 years a'course -- but they can't have built this Kearns. Looks ancient--indescribable. Like a Titans cave with all the bronzed cage doors --Slabs of metal as thick as bookcases. The howling. But that wasn't the worse of it---not by any means.
SK: You saw the dogs?
FH: Oh Simon--the things I've seen which can't be given the mercy of description. I followed the underground tunnels to see how far they led. A cave like labrynth of wholly unnatural formations. It started heading upwards. I realised the tunnels reached my own apartment. All the equipment. All this time ---they were monitoring me! I wanted to flee-- to escape, but I had to look behind the silver door! Had to --to----
SK: I don't understand Mr Hughes. What silver door? Your losing me.
FH: They've been following my family since the beginning Mr Kearns. They live down there --watching us! I saw the men in their robes! How did they get the bodies Mr Kearns? How did they exhume the bodies? Is that all we are to them? All those piles of centuries old flesh. They're feeding them to the dogs! Jermyn! What have they done to you. That ethereal glow! The grating sound! They're opening the gates!
---<click--thk------>
SK: Mr Hughes?......
---<Fzuk-----thzrrrrrrrrrm-------
SK: Mr Hughes?.....Mr Hughes?
AB: The line has gone dead Simon.
SK: Well. That's that. I think our first case was a bust Ms Barback.
AB: I hope you don't mind, but I listened in to that call Simon. Curiosity got the better of me.
SK: Id prefer if we kept the line private when I am consulting in the future Angelica, but in this instance I can forgive it.
AB: What did you make of all that? Is he crazy?
SK: I think Ms Barback-- that Mr 'Hughsey' may be making the whole thing up for a bit of a laugh.
AB: Well the acting was convincing. It had me fooled. He sounded genuinely terrified.
SK: An actor certainly. I doubt if whoever we just were hoaxed by was really a policeman--nor will we likely find a Ferris Hughes who lives on Marrickville Road.
AB: But Simon. That's something I forgot I tell you. In my long conversations with Mr Hughes, and his inappropriate come ons--I insisted he send me his identification. He showed me verification of his old police ID. "Mr Ferris Hughes, incremental Sergeant inner suburbs, Surrey". I can send it to you. It seems authentic.
SK: Hmm. If it's not a fake, that could at least come in handy if he gives us anymore trouble.
AB: What if he wasn't making it up Simon? What if he really found something down there underneath the butcher shop.
SK: Oh, come on. Demon dogs living underneath the earth? I try to keep an open mind Angelica but everyone has a limit.
AB: You're probably right. Well hopefully our next customer is a little easier to handle.
SK: The future remains uncertain Angelica. Let's hope Newton's law doesn't apply here, because we really need a paying client next time.
AB: Newtons law. Is that --"Things only get worse?"
SK: That's how it's translated popularly, but I don't imagine Isaac Newton would have been happy with the translation of his thermodynamic principles to such a cliche derivative. Well, anyway, if Mr Hughes hounds are no longer to bother us, we've evaded one hell. There is the rather said matter of Bob Ellis.
AB: What's that?
SK: Oh you didn't hear? Bob Ellis died today. A fantastic Australian writer, journalist and political commentator.
AB: I'm ashamed to say I've never heard of him.
SK: That's the second time I've had to forgive you tonight. He wrote the film 'Newsfront', probably one of the greatest Australian films of the twentieth century.
AB: I'll download it tonight.
SK: He was one who really understood the damnable tragedy of Australia. I don't know how well I paraphrase here, but I believe he once nailed the predicament of the foreign invaders who came to this ancient land as virgins to its sparsity... They "came from a land of pensive indoor epiphanies ---to a baron, hostile land of wide open spaces, and heat.....Art was attempted but to no avail....they were driven into ruin, losing their families and eventually their minds.
They knew what they were here for."
-----PREVIOUS CASE FILES -------
CASEFILE: MELODY PIPER:
http://ift.tt/1RSXbbN
CASEFILE: SCOTT FISHWICK:
http://ift.tt/1Rqy2Vt
CASEFILE: LIBBY HUGHES:
http://ift.tt/1Zrimr5
CASEFILE : ESMERA LIAH JAIKA
http://ift.tt/1Sg3V3E
CASEFILE : KUMIKO HIROSHITA
http://ift.tt/1ThTsK5
Submitted April 04, 2016 at 07:54PM by GoityePowerhouse http://ift.tt/1XbReuN libraryofshadows
No comments:
Post a Comment