Unrequited… unrequired… whatever…

You might remember that Tina the Lesbian has a crush on Samurai Cathy.  You might also remember that Samurai Cathy is dating Mikka.  And you might also remember that Tina the Lesbian got Samurai Cathy a job as a bouncer down at the local lesbian bar ClamLappers as part of a plan to see if maybe perhaps possibly Cathy could discover her inner lesbo and have the same feelings for Tina as Tina has for her without upsetting the social balance because Samurai Cathy is dating Mikka.

(Whew, trying saying that sentence in one breath…)

“I don’t think it’s working,”  Tina the Lesbian says to her best friend Ninja Vicki as they have lunch at the food court in the mall.  “It’s been like three months and I haven’t seen anything to suggest Cathy’s even considering being bi-curious.”

“I guess that means the experiment has failed and you can stop having a crush on my archenemy,”  says Ninja Vicki.

“Or maybe I need to nudge her a little harder,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “Maybe I’m being too subtle.”

“Tina… no, just no,”  Ninja Vicki says.  “I know this is going to sound crazy coming from your ninja friend, but do not force the issue.  It won’t end well.”

“I’m not talking about grabbing her and kissing her,” Tina the Lesbian says.  “Maybe a little incidental contact that perhaps lingers a bit longer than usual.”

“Tina, I will put Tag Larkin back on your front lawn to serenade you if you try this stupid idea,”  Ninja Vicki says with a hard glare.  “Look, I know Catherine.  Catherine is not gay, just like how you will never be straight.”

“Well it doesn’t change the way I feel about her,”  Tina the Lesbian says, excusing herself to use the little lesbian’s room.

Ninja Vicki shakes her head and sighs.  “Not this shit again… fuck me…”

Tag Larkin jumps up from his seat clear across the food court and runs over to Ninja Vicki’s table, like a dog following a sound only he can hear.

“Oh… it’s you,”  Tag Larkin says, disappointed when he sees Ninja Vicki.

“Yeah, it’s me,”  Ninja Vicki says, then realizes she’s been insulted.  “Hey!  What the hell does that mean?”

“Tag Larkin thought an interesting and fun woman wanted Tag Larkin to fuck her,”  says Tag Larkin.  “But it’s just you.”

Ninja Vicki’s jaw visibily drops from behind her mask.  “I’m a fucking ninja!  You don’t get much more interesting and fun than me.”

“Tag Larkin knows otherwise,”  Tag Larkin says.

Ninja Vicki jumps up on the table.  “Oh yeah?  Well how about I prove it then?”

“Codependents’ Brewery and Steak House, 7pm tonight, be there!”  Tag Larkin says.

“No, you be there!”  says Ninja Vicki.  “Because I’ll be waiting there for you.”

“Good!  And wear something nice!”

As Tag Larkin walks away and Ninja Vicki steps down from the table, a cold realization slowly grips her.  “Wait… what just happened?”

To be continued…

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Friday Haiku 11/13/09 – Ninja Vicki

Our resident ninja calls this one… “Slim pickings.”

Fuck, how much must I
compromise so I do not
sleep alone tonight?

And this one’s entitled “Billy Mays and his Oxi-Clean ain’t got shit on me.”

Slit throat pours crimson
Staining mess on the carpet
That’s not coming out

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Splitting the Uprights

It used to be a lot of things long ago.  It used to be TV stations actually went off the air at some point in the night.  It used to be you could only buy Feather Healer’s pinnacle album Twenty-Sided Die: The Roll of Destiny on vinyl from Romanian gypsies in an opium den.  And it used to be that no groin was safe from Tag Larkin.  But now someone is infringing on Tag Larkin’s territory…

In British Columbia there’s been a rash of groin-kickings in a park by some woman.  One guy got kicked so hard his testicle ruptured and had to be removed.  He’s getting an artificial nut for Christmas, which we think was the original title of that “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth” song but was changed because the social scolds at the time turned a blind eye to scrotum trauma.

If our memory serves us right (and that’s a coin-flip considering our alcohol intake) our old Renal Failure regulars Raincoaster and Timethief are in BC, and as such must be considered suspects, if only to make them comment here and proclaim their innocence, and say hi to us.

But we’re not just casting baseless accusations at our Western Canada audience.  We’re looking at the women of Renal Failure to determine whether or not they are the mysterious groin-kicker.

“Yeah, I could kick someone hard enough to make their nut explode,”  says Ninja Vicki.  “But why would I do that when I can just stab a dude in the back of his neck?”

“I would never open with a kick to the groin,”  says Samurai Cathy.  “Later in the fight, of course.  But the samurai code prevents me from going around and punting guys in the crotch like I’m in an episode of Jackass.”

“They never told us in my self-defense class that testicles could rupture from a kick to the sack,”    says Tina the Lesbian.  “That is awesome.  But no, my lesbian sisters and I do not fight the oppressive heteronormalcy of the patriarchy with random groin shots.”

“I hit a guy who owed me money in the balls with my pimp broom once,”  says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “But I’m not going around kicking men in the crotch.  I’m not sure what the 3-by-3 retribution for that would be for me.  Three kicks in my crotch?”

“Yah, tha’ sands lake sam’thin’ I’d due,”  says Marlie, who is sporting a Jameson’s Irish whiskey IV drip because she’s in a rush today.  “A penalty kack right’en tha yarbles… tha’s ha’ I usta greet paepel back en tha day.  Fack, I steel due.  A’right… ya gat me.  Take me en and tell Bearnay ta get me bail maney ready.”

Lucky for most of the Renal Roster the groin assailant was described with brunette hair.  Marlie and Cathy are redheads.  Tina is a blonde, and so is Ninja Vicki when she’s not dying her hair with stuff she’s stolen from the local store.  Our only true brunette is Avonia.

So, gentlemen, until this groin kicker is found please refrain from standing square to anyone.  Or if you must be square to someone, stand like you’re a soccer player on a wall for a free kick.  An ounce of prevention is worth your left nut.

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Test Larkin

Ninja Vicki has a computer.  Stolen, of course.  She uses it mainly to load up her stolen iPod with Euro-dance (though I’m trying to get her into some Feather Healer; Vicki is big in synthesizers).  But she doesn’t have e-mail and she’s not on Facebook,  so she can’t do all those quizzes and surveys and tests that people do to determine which member of the Justice League they are or what color their soul is or which Harry Potter character are you most likely to give a rimjob to.  This means I have to hand-deliver such quizzes to her.

“The Tag Larkin quiz?”  says Ninja Vicki, reading the quiz’s title.  “Find out how much like Tag Larkin you are.”

“All you have to do is read each of the 20 statements and decide how much it applies to you,” I say.  “Put a zero if it doesn’t apply at all, a one if it sort of applies, and a two if it totally applies.  If you score over 30, you’re Tag Larkin.”

“Okay… Question one… Glib and superficial charm…”  says Ninja Vicki.  “I’ll put a zero there.”

“Yeah, Samurai Cathy says you have the charm of a sebaceous cyst,” I say.

“Question two…”  Ninja Vicki says with a growl.  “Grandiose self-worth.  Maybe a little.  I am a ninja.  We’ll say one on that.  Question three: Need for Stimulation or Proneness to Boredom…”

“You’re a ninja, so that’s a two,” I say.

“Question four: Pathological lying… wait a minute…”  says Ninja Vicki, who then starts flipping ahead to the other questions.  “Conniving and Manipulativeness… Poor Behavioral Controls… Lack of Remorse or Guilt… Impulsivity… Irresponsibility…”

“Don’t forget Promiscuous Sexual Behavior,” I say.

“This isn’t a test to find out if someone is Tag Larkin,” says Ninja Vicki.  “This is the test to find out if someone is a psychopath.”

“Can it be both?”  I say.

“Dude, you can’t be giving this test to people,”  says Ninja Vicki.  “You’re not qualified for this sort of thing.”

“I already gave it to Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat and he scored a 38,”  I say.  “He got a zero on the Many Short-Term Marital Relationships question because he’s only been married once.”

“Well, cats are one of nature’s prominent psychopaths,” Ninja Vicki says.  “Right up there with sharks, snakes, and swans.”

“So this test will tell you whether you are a cat, a psychopath, or Tag Larkin?”  I say.  ”That’s pretty cool.”

“No, it’s not cool,” Ninja Vicki says.  “I remember being forced to take this test in high school.”

“Then let’s see if you do better this time around,” I say.

Ninja Vicki scored a 20, the same score she got in high school, so she is not Tag Larkin.  Or a cat.  Or Tag Larkin if Tag Larkin were a cat.  I wonder if Tag Larkin has a cat.  Cat Larkin.

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Tag Larkin Is Not Coming To Dinner: Part Five

Upon hearing the footsteps of the murderer coming our way, we hatched a plan to catch said murderer.  Ninja Vicki hides up on the ceiling, Samurai Cathy conceals herself against the wall near the entrance to the study.  Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat takes up sniper position by the couch.  Avonia casts an invisibility spell over the rest of us, which isn’t as good as Anonymous Doug’s original plan of having Marlie, Tina the Lesbian, and Avonia making out by the fire to lure the murderer in unawares, because murderers in horror movies can’t resist killing the participants of such wanton displays of lust.  But the ladies weren’t down for being girl-on-girl-on-girl bait.  Even on Halloween.

And so we took our places and listened as the footsteps on the hard wood floors thundered closer.  We saw a dark figure enter the study, but the shadows obscured his features.  He had something in his hands, something cylindrical, which we took as the murder weapon.  When he got to the center of the room where the body was Samurai Cathy threw on the lights and Ninja Vicki jumped down from the ceiling.  Swords were drawn, hip-mounted laser cannons were deployed, even Tina the Lesbian had a golf-club in hand.  But though our trap had been sprung, it was we who were surprised.

“It can’t be…”  Ninja Vicki said, staring down her blade at the suspected murderer.  “You’re…”

Tag Larkin Is Not Coming For Dinner: Part Three

Our investigation of the Halloween murder of  Tag Larkin has taken a turn for the magical as Avonia the Wiccan Pimp has been implicated by a suspicious Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.

“Why would I want to kill Tag Larkin?”  says Avonia.  “I barely have anything to do with Tag Larkin.”

“Except for that time he kept interrupting you like he was Kanye West,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.

“I’m going to kill someone over that?”  says Avonia.

“Victoria’s killed people for less,” says Samurai Cathy.

“But my soul isn’t empty like Ninja Vicki’s is,” says Avonia.  “I’m a healer, not a killer.”

“Then how do you explain why there’s no blood or visible wound on Tag Larkin’s body?”  says Mikka.  “It has to be witchcraft.”

“The body is face down,” says Avonia.  “We haven’t turned it over.  The wound could be on his front.”

“Still no blood,” says Bernie.

“Maybe that’s because he was hit with something that cauterized the wound immediately after inflicting it,”  says Avonia.  “Something like that laser cannon that comes out of your hip, Bernie!”

“That is malicious slander!” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat, his tail getting all bushy.

“Bernie does want the human race to die so that the cats can take over the world,” says Mikka.  “With Tag Larkin gone, who could stop them?”

“Hey!  Dan’t ya be accusin’ me Bernie a’ killin’ Tag Lark’n!”  Marlie says.

“We can accuse you too if you’d like,”  says Anonymous Doug.  “Someone had to distract Tag Larkin while Bernie took aim and fired at him.”

“I say we flip Tag Larkin over and see what’s on his front,” says Tina the Lesbian.

So we all get rubber gloves from the cleaning closet and carefully roll Tag Larkin over to see that there’s no marks on his front.

“See… I told you it was witchcraft,”  says Bernie.

“Maybe he was poisoned,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.

“And you’d know all about poisons,” says Ninja Vicki.

“But I didn’t hand Tag Larkin his last snifter glass of rainwater and grain alcohol,” says Avonia.  “Tina the Lesbian did!”

“And Tag Larkin has been known to stand outside Tina’s house, serenading her with his boombox,” says Anonymous Doug.

“Looks like someone…” I say, putting on my sunglasses, “put a stop to the music.”

YAAAAAAH!!!

To be continued…

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Tag Larkin Is Not Coming For Dinner: Part Two

We’re still standing around Tag Larkin’s body in the study of Tag Larkin’s secluded mansion that no one else can reach and we can’t leave until morning.  I think this place was called “Casa del Convenient Plot Device.”

“I didn’t kill Tag Larkin and I can prove it,” says Ninja Vicki, our number one suspect in this Halloween murder.  “Why would I still be here if I killed Tag Larkin?  Ninjas don’t linger after a kill.”

“Because if we found Tag Larkin’s body and noticed you weren’t here it would be even more obvious that you killed him,”  says Mikka.

“All right… well… I’ve been framed!”  Ninja Vicki dramatically announces.  “By my arch-nemesis Samurai Cathy!”

Everyone lets that sink for a few moments before speaking again.

“Wait… why would she frame you?” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.

“Because she hates me,” says Ninja Vicki.  “And because she’s afraid of fighting me and if I go to jail she’ll never have to.”

“If you want to throw down, sunshine, we can go right now,” says Samurai Cathy.

“But that won’t change the fact that you still killed Tag Larkin,” says Ninja Vicki.  “You killed him to frame me and because you fear Tag Larkin.  Remember our double-date at the Japanese restaurant?  You fear no man, yet Tag Larkin terrified you.”

“That doesn’t mean she wanted to kill him,” says Mikka.  “Besides, what about when you got jealous that Tag Larkin wasn’t stalking you anymore?  That sounds like a stronger motive.”

“For murder!”  I say, punctuating Mikka’s sentence.  And hitting a little button on my keychain that does a thunder sound effect.

“I’m going to ask that you stop doing that,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “It’s going to get annoying really fast.”

“Hey, I dahn’t think either Vicki or Cath killed Tag,” says Marlie.  “Na stab waunds.”

“She’s right,” says Anonymous Doug.  “I don’t even see any blood.”

“You know what this means?”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “Tag Larkin was killed… BY WITCHCRAFT!”

And everyone gasps and points at a very shocked Avonia the Wiccan Pimp…

to be continued…

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Tag Larkin Is Not Coming For Dinner: Part One

We were surprised to hear Tag Larkin owned a mansion on a remote island with no workable phones and no cell coverage that is only accessible by ferry from 7am to 7pm.  We were also surprised that he invited all of us over for an overnight Halloween party.  Us being me, Mikka, Samurai Cathy, Ninja Vicki, Avonia the Wiccan Pimp, Tina the Lesbian, Anonymous Doug, Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat and Marlie.

And it was an even bigger surprise when we found Tag Larkin’s body on the floor of the study.

“Murder!”  I declare.   “Tag Larkin has been murdered!”

“Are you sure he’s not just drunk?”  says Tina the Lesbian.

“E’ was anly aun ‘is tierd snifter a’ rainwater an’ grain alcahal,”  says Marlie.  “Tag can ga’ thra at least sex a’ them befar gettin’ tipsay.”

Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat sniffs Tag Larkin’s body.   “He doesn’t smell dead.  Then again he’s wearing a lot of Hai Karate. That can mask the stench of death for hours.”

“I don’t think he’s breathing,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “And I don’t sense his overpowering aura.”

“Should we poke him?”  says Samurai Cathy.

“Is no one else freaked out that we have a dead body right in front of us?”  says Tina the Lesbian.

“No, it’s just another Tuesday for me,”  says Ninja Vicki.

“Murder!”  I declare again.

“Someone call 911,”  says Tina the Lesbian.

“There are no phones and I can’t get a cell signal,”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat, who has a cell phone built into his robot parts.

“And we dahn’t kna’ ef Tag’s really dead,” says Marlie.

“Maybe someone should check him for a pulse,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.

“No, we shouldn’t touch him,” says Mikka.  “It might contaminate the crime scene.  I saw this on CSI: Intercourse, Pennsylvania.”

“What crime scene?”  says Samurai Cathy.  “We don’t know why Tag Larkin is like this.”

“Stand back, I’ve done this before,” says Anonymous Doug, taking a small compact mirror from his pocket and holding it under Tag Larkin’s nose.  “It’s not fogging up.  Tag Larkin is dead.”

“Murder!”  I declare even louder this time.

“Why do you keep saying that?”  says Bernie.

“Because no one of dies of natural causes during a dinner party in a secluded mansion,” I say.  “They only die from murder.”

“But no one else is in this mansion, or on this island,”  says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “The last ferry left hours ago and won’t be back until the morning.”

“Then that means the murderer is in this very room,” I say.  “And is not a Spaniard.”

“It’s Victoria!”  says Samurai Cathy, pointing at the ninja.

“No it’s not, shut up!”  says Ninja Vicki.

“Yah, is prob’ly Vickay,”  says Marlie.

“Oh, sure, blame the ninja for the dead body,”  says Ninja Vicki.  “This is racial profiling.”

“But you’re an assassin,” says Mikka.  “Who else should we immediately suspect when someone is murdered?”

“He’s got a point,” says Tina the Lesbian.

“That’s entirely reasonable,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.

“Oh, you can all suck my twat!”  says Ninja Vicki.

“No one’s done that since the Clinton administration…” comments Samurai Cathy.

“Oh snap!”  says Anonymous Doug.

Yeah, we all got a chuckle out of that one.  Tag Larkin probably would have laughed too… if he wasn’t murdered!

To be continued…

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This Party Is Dead Sexy

Regular Renal Readers may recall our rock-solid Halloween costume advice that we’ve given in previous year (women can just be sexy versions of occupations and when in doubt go as a zombie version of a celebrity).  If not, well, now you know.

This year Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat and Marlie are throwing a Halloween party that implements both these pieces of costuming advice.  All the women have to come as a sexy profession, and all the men have to come as a celebrity who died this year.  But to make sure everyone doesn’t show up as Zombie Patrick Swayze or Michael Jackson, you have to pull a name from a hat.  The same with the women, or else they’d all come as Nursemyra.

Mikka wanted either Billy Mays or David Carradine but he got the recently-deceased Captain Lou Albano, which he was fine with because of his affinity for professional wrestling.  Plus Captain Lou sort of looked like he crawled out a grave most of the time anyway so the costume’s easy.

Anonymous Doug pulled Ted Kennedy out of the hat, thus giving Anonymous Doug the rare Kennedy trifecta on Halloween.  A few years ago he showed up at a party as post-assassination JFK.  Next year he showed up as post-assassination RFK, which was sort of the same costume except the gunshot was in a different spot.  It’s not confirmed on whether he ever showed up at a party as Rosemary, the Kennedy that had the lobotomy.

I was hoping to get Ricardo Montulban, but ended up with Farrah Fawcett.

As for the ladies, Ninja Vicki picked “sexy mechanic,” which she will interpret as “sexy mechanic with a sword.”  So will Samurai Cathy with her  ”sexy patent attorney” costume.  These two never go anywhere unarmed.

Avonia was a bit confused at first when she pulled  ”sexy Ghostbuster”   out of the hat until I told her that a sexy Ghostbuster is just like a regular Ghostbuster except with a lot more cleavage and thigh-boots.  And Avonia has both of those things.

Tina the Lesbian argued that it was demaning and objectifying for the women to have to dress sexy while the men got to be zombie celebrities.  So Bernie let her pick out of the zombie hat and through some stroke of luck she pulled Zombie Bea Arthur.

Bernie pulled zombie Walter Cronkite, which means he’ll just be getting drunk behind a tiny kitty desk and reporting on everything as it happens at the party.  His wife Marlie pulled “sexy crack whore.”  We didn’t know that crack whore was an occupation, but if it’s in the hat who are we to argue.

And though Tag Larkin wasn’t invited, Tag Larkin will show up anyway dressed like he always is for Halloween: as Tag Larkin wearing a hat.  What hatwill it be this year?  A top hat?  A fez?  A World War I German helmet?  Only Tag Larkin knows for sure.

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Ninja Healthcare

Did you know being a ninja is a preexisting condition according to the insurance companies (so is being a cop, being pregnant, or being a victim of domestic violence)?  So Ninja Vicki  can’t get health insurance coverage.  But instead of waiting for a public option for healthcare like they have in those godless Marxist wastelands of socialist sodomy like Canada, Britain, and Israel, Ninja Vicki has come up with her own plan… the Ninja Option.

“Say you’re dying of something terminal,” says Ninja Vicki.  “All the doctors can do for you is try to make you comfortable as you wither and die.  How much does that cost?”

“Depends on how long you hold out for, what drugs and procedures and machines they use on you,” I say.

“Well, whatever it costs, I’ll put you out of your misery for half that,” says Ninja Vicki.

“So you’re offering euthanasia for half the cost of living out your remaining days in bed-ridden agony?”  I say.

“Oh it’s better than euthanasia, it’s Ninja Euthanasia,” says Vicki.  “Did you know I can deliver a death blow to someone and they’d never feel it?  You could be sleeping and I could stab you through the back of your neck and you’d never know I just killed you.”

“And with the money you make from this, you’re going to put it towards your own healthcare needs, eh?”  I say.  “But do you think there’s enough terminally ill people out there that would be interested in having a ninja kill them in their sleep?”

I mentally note that getting killed by a ninja would actually be a really cool way to go out, but I keep that from Vicki.

“I could also do it while they’re awake,” Ninja Vicki says.  “Like they could go walking in the park and I could drop out of a tree behind them and do it.  But if you’re really sick, chances are you’re not going to do a lot of walking.”

“But is there a big enough market for ninja-based euthanasia just based off of terminal cases?”  I say.

“There’s also people who get fucked over by their insurance company,” says Ninja Vicki.  “Say you get word that your insurance isn’t going to cover your treatments for whatever disease you have.  What are your options?  Go hopelessly into debt?  Bankrupt your family?  Die in financial ruin?  What if there was another option?”

“The option of being murdered by a ninja,” I say.

“Will your life insurance pay out if you die from an illness?”  says Ninja Vicki.  “Maybe, maybe not.  But they will definitely pay if you are murdered.”

“They don’t pay if you arrange for someone to murder you,” I say.

“And how will they know that?”  says Ninja Vicki.  “I don’t keep records and I only deal in cash. ”

“Well, what if someone actually wants to live?”  I say.  “They get a disease, they get dropped by their insurance, but they want to live.”

“That’s something ninjas cannot help you with,” says Ninja Vicki.  “You want to live, don’t call a ninja.”

Ninja Vicki is her own Death Panel.

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