The Old Bugger tried to do a bit of blogging, but fell asleep on the bed with a bottle of vodka, after throwing the dog into a cold bath. So I have pinched the chance to post in daylight. It is bloody hot here, even for an ancient armoured creature with fabulous homeostatic control like myself.
We can actually breathe through our finger ends, which is very extremely convenient on a day like this. Back behind the toilet is a siphon chamber, which is always cool. I can slide in there and just leave a single finger exposed, which looks exactly like a tiny residual turd in the gloom of the bowl.
The dog hates me for this, says I smell of shit for days, but I just point out that he eats different things. Then I push my tongue into his ears, and suck out some wax and he is very very grateful.
This image is not actually a goblin, but a genuine Japanese ghost called Kohada Koheiji. Ghosts lack corporeal existence, but they are wonderfully frightening, so we are natural allies. There is many a horror show we have started with a dead baby in the bed, which they have finished with a floating skull in the mirror after the funeral.
Many ghosts and goblins share a great respect for art, or at least the art which allows the human world to see what we look like without us being around to endure the exorcisms and nest hunts that can ruin a good infestation. We know the value of brand management.
Hokusai did this picture, but the setup has become a goblin legend. We needed him alone on a particular tatami mat in the right haunted inn in a place called Senju in Musashi Province, since ghosts can't curl up in the luggage like we can. Bugger kept roaming all over the country, took different roads, and finally decided not to stay in the inn because he saw a fox on the road. A quick bite on the arse sent his horse off up the valley, while we stole his wallet at the same time and farted on his assistant, who fled screaming of goblins. Little did he know that's exactly what we wanted.
So Hokusai arrived in Senju alone, on foot, and penniless. Only the inn would take him in, only the innkeeper's son would go after the horse. The small children of the house took him to his bed, and gave him the inn's special saki to put him to sleep. How was he to know the family only had a single child?
He awoke paralysed. The Ghost Kohada Koheiji was waiting. In the morning, the inn was empty, the fires unlit, the hearth unswept for years. He tried to draw the place again and again, but failed every time. At last he drew the ghost, and his horse whinnied in the courtyard as he finished. He had earnt his freedom.
Like i said, brand management.