The Horror, The Horror

October 31st and the mind turns towards the grotesque. People dressing up in ghastly costumes, greedy little bastards wanting their preciiiooouuussssss and having a Chernobyl-Nuclear-Explosion tantrum and breaking windows if they don't. I am, of course, referring to the upcoming Melbourne Cup Day and not Halloween which is a fun evening for infidels.

Melbourne Cup Day, in my experience, only has two types of weather- meltingly hot or pouring buckets of water. All signs are pointing towards the former so it will be 'The Attack of The Lobster People' weather with punters with their blistering red skin, staggering around and laughing every time they knock over their champagne.

So, tomorrow, as everyone places their hard earned on the horse with the funniest name and the worst odds ( What's the handicap? Well, the jockey is dead) I shall start slogging out a 50,000 word writing exercise involving zombies because I'll have to serve these drunken, red-as-the-Devil's-pecker ingrates at the bar that night and the last thing I want to do is see them during the day as well. That and I have a negative number in my bank account which is never a good thing.

Scream till you're Horse,
Fatman