2hagshagging

Waking in the strange

2006-10-05T19:45:00.000-04:00

There was something poking me in the back. That's what woke me up. I opened my eyes and still couldn't see. My hair was over my face. I brushed it back, and saw where I was. I have no idea how I got in that closet, but here I was. I sat up, removing the leather spiked heel from between my shoulderblades, and shook my dreads down. I could hear someone outside the door, but didn't know if it was whoever put me here, so I opted to stay quiet. I stood as carefully as I could, trying not to make much, if any, noise, and mingled with the coats and shirts and hangers. I felt my head to see if there were any wounds, but I was fine, my hair was fine, my sash was fine, just a fuzzy, almost drugged feeling. There was something in my shirt pocket, and it was warm. I reached in, and pulled out a teeny, tiny baby. It moved and looked up at me, blinking, and I screamed and fell down, but didn't drop it. Here I am, in a closet, with a miniature baby. What the hell has happened....

Lost?

2006-09-13T19:34:00.000-04:00

I've been taking care of the quads now for a few days and unfortunately I lost one of them. I mean...they're so small! I had them sleeping in a tea cup and someone picked up the cup and I screamed. The "cup knapper" jumped and one of the babies fell out. I know...I'm horribly sad and I feel like shit. I've looked everywhere for the baby...but, I can't find it.

On a positive note...I haven't found any gross, bloody, baby grease spots either! I hope the baby that was lost isn't Haggis. It could be though, knowing her luck.

I continue to hunt

Haggis has been reborn!

2006-09-11T20:32:00.000-04:00

Haggis has been reincarnated....

...into a little person. She has been reborn into the body of a miniature baby. I'm taking care of all four of them, hoping that I can determine which one she is!

The phone call

2006-08-20T08:37:00.000-04:00

A whispered voice, "Follow me," slid from the phone.
"What?" I whispered back.
A sigh and a gravelly cough, "Follow me."
"Ok," I whisper back.
"The child will take you."
I held the phone and listened to the disconnected beep.

I waited for 3 days and no further communication was received. And then yesterday a small boy came to my door. He just said, "Follow."
"Excuse me," I said.
"Follow."
"Let me just..."
The boy turned and started walking away.
"Wait!" I screamed as he shuffled toward the street.
He didn't turn or stop walking. I stood for a moment, undecided.

I finally started running after the boy when he started to disappear around the corner. I followed until we came to an abandoned lot. Then he pointed to a blood puddle. He pointed for about 2 minutes and then he just stood staring. I don't understand what I was supposed to do and he refused to speak, just staring at me with his hands in his pockets.

I don't know what to make of it.....

Communication from the Dead

2006-08-15T15:15:00.000-04:00

I received an email from Haggis herself. It was very strange and all it asked was if I wanted to be her friend. Im completely discombobulated. Im the friend of a corpse.

More to come...unless I become one of the walking Dead, too.

Funeral Service

2006-08-10T16:56:00.000-04:00

The Wake. Haggis was interred this afternoon. There were many unknown faces and people in very strange dress. An unusual woman with greenish hair and a cream dress officiated. Apparently, there was a will, and Haggis had requested many strange and outlandish things to occur after her death. She never mentioned the document to me...maybe it was written during her service to DuCroix.It was a silent service and the only thing that broke the silence was a little person playing a mandolin and the "clergywoman" intoning, "Arise, Oh Herloghist."

I am completely stumped by the word and the service. After the music and bizarre "speech" the mourners present were informed that the service was over. It was a closed casket, supposedly, due to the state of the corpse. The service was over within 15 minutes and there was no grave-side ceremony.

Now, for the really strange part. I received an email from an unknown source just moments ago with the subject : UNDEAD and the picture posted. That's all. So, my exploration continues.

Haggis is gone

2006-08-01T10:14:00.000-04:00

Haggis is Dead. It is a shame that I have to report this horrible news. The young Haggis was found in an abandoned shed, covered in blood and what could have been cough syrup. I had hoped my quest would have found her before her untimely demise, but apparently she ran to her death with arms outstretched. On her face, beneath the smeared makeup and sticky red goop, was a smile. A smile the likes of which I had never seen on her face before. I'm trying to find the culprit of this horrible crime. More information to come.

The Quest for Haggis

2006-06-14T06:48:00.000-04:00

Draw near, Friends and Neighbors: I have a tale to tell that many will not believe.

(Reading of the previous 3 posts are really required to understand what is happening within the Hagmosphere)

I have been diligently searching for our compatriot, Haggis. She is MIA and I feel that I was very close to talking with her last night. I have been looking high and sober for her these past 2 weeks. As you well know, she is in danger of being killed by our once great benefactor: Stanford Du Croix, of the Meow Mix Militia (MMM).

I had finally received a tip as to her whereabouts and was closing in on the target. Strange smells and sounds harrassed my senses as I approached the dwelling. Meow mix littered the porch and an over-powering odor stampeded from the slightly open door.I looked in and was confused at what I witnessed. A man and a goat were acting as sentry. As I watched, the man started feeding the goat a green substance in a bottle. I crept closer and was tripped by another goat fainting at my feet.I rolled toward the bizarre tableu, assuming my death was imminent.

The man stood from his stool, laughing, "Well, missy, you seemed to have met Petrie, him's a faintin' goat. He faint every time he gets scairt or someone is sneakin' 'round the home place." He looked at me with amusement radiating from his cracked, sunburnt face. I stood, looking at the offending goat, who was still passed out at my feet. I opened my mouth to give some sort of explaination,but I was completely at a loss. I didn't expect fainting goats or goats being fed some sort of toxic ooze, to bar my path.He patted the darker colored, "Non-fainting" goat, "This here is Divad, he just loves mountain dew, and any pills I can scare up for 'im." The older man lowered himself to the battered stool. He pulled a handful of pills from his dirty coveralls. At least fifty different types of pills rolled from his callused palm into the goats gaping throat, "See, him just love it. Don't matter what I give 'im. He'll et it down ever time."

I started to back away, slowly. The strange man cocked an eyebrow at me, "You looked powerful anxious to get in here," he pointed to the open door at his back. At that moment Petrie roused from his stupor and took 2 steps toward me and then abruptly fainted again. I turned and ran from the crazy situation as fast as I could. I looked behind me and nothing had changed. The "farmer" was still calmly feeding Divad pills from his pockets and chasing it with a slurp from the mountain dew bottle. I can't explain this situation, all I can do is report it and hope that Haggis is not suffering the same pill-popping, mountain dew swilling, torture.

Further signs of the Revolution or how Stanford Du Croix kills

2006-06-02T08:45:00.000-04:00

Trouble is brewing on the Meow front. It pains me to share this knowledge. Haggis is in hiding and Du Croix wants us dead.But, let me start at the beginning:

As I'm sure you gathered from the previous posts, Haggis and I have been recruited to the Meow Mix Militia.We were diligently trying to find compatriots to help Stanford DuCroix fulfill his "plan". We had not seen nor heard from our Commander since he informed us of our purpose. We were not shocked because of the dangers involved. But, last night we found out why. Stanford wants our mouths to be stilled FOREVER.

Haggis and I ventured from the Haglet to begin stocking up on Meow Mix. We purchased all of the Holy Substance our carts and budget would allow. As we were putting our bags into the trunk of our car, we heard the sounds of a tribal drum beating close to the parking lot of Kroger. Our ears were already perked to the beginning sounds of the Revolution, so we finished loading the car and drove to the sound. That was our first bit of luck...and Stanford's first mistake.I believe Stanford thought we would follow the drums on foot.

As we slowly drove to the source, we saw a streak of orange dart from the bushes. It appeared to be a cat, maybe even our Commander. I stopped the car and that is what saved our lives. As I looked toward the drummer, I noticed he was wearing not only an orange jumpsuit, but also a sadistic, maniacal grin. I looked at Haggis and saw my fear and horror mirrored in her eyes. We sped away from the scene as the drummer was marching toward us, "Meowing" like a proper soldier of the Revolution. There was no kinship or hope in his eyes. Just murder. We got back to the Haglet covered in sweat and confusion.

As we entered the door of our Hagmosphere, we were understandably shaken... we realized something had gone horribly wrong. We slept uneasily and woke with smoke in our noses and sirens in our ears. The convenience store near the Hagpartment was a flurry of activity and destruction. Moments earlier an orange van, filled with Meow Mix, had crashed into the front of the store. The culprit had fled on foot and the van was towed away. We looked from our windows at the confusion. From under the window sill we heard this: "You are no longer needed for the Revolution. Protect the lives of the innocent and end your own.This is your only warning. That accident was meant for you!" An orange ball of fury jumped to the window ledge. It was Stanford Du Croix! "You have been deemed unworthy. You have 48 hours to get your affairs in order and take your own lives. I give you this opportunity because I've always liked you Haggis. As a matter of fact I may be in love with you. That is why you must die! I can't abide this weakness. End it now!" He jumped from the sill and I believe I saw a tear falling from his angry eye.

After much debate Haggis has gone into hiding and I am trying to figure out what to do. The pictures above show the skies above our Haglet at the time of the accident and directly after. I'm sure you can see the symbolism in both - Stanford Du Croix has the power to affect the very elements! The police are no help, they state it was just an accident. They may be part of the MMM.What hope of survival do we have? I hope we make it out alive, I hope that Haggis will be okay, I hope this will end...and not with our lives.

La revolución ha comenzado

2006-05-24T20:44:00.000-04:00

Do Not Panic:

those cute little bandaids with the clouds on them

2006-05-24T16:05:00.000-04:00

Hags and gents, it's your faithful underground reporter Haggis in with a plea from the nether regions of our doomed society. The apocalypse is soon upon us and the core of the Earth is beginning to spew a great many such concepts. It's my job to bring them to you, and that's why I'm here today to talk to you about the MMM.

It began on a relatively pleasant day in the southwestern United States, during which a gift was bestowed upon me: twenty dollars from my doting grandmother. Unremarkable, no? That it was not; for it was this sum which resulted in my purchase of a single bottle of orange Manic Panic hair dye.

As those in alliance with me will attest to, my living situation is hectic and ever-changing. The aforementioned hair dye was carried with me across several states over a period of two months until I reached my present, Eastern dugout. It was here, in our enviable Hagmosphere, where the charm was unleashed: I applied the dye.

Initially, there were no blatant results. My hair turned a shocking orange, certainly, but this was to be expected. What was not to be expected in the coming weeks arrived in the suave, nine-lived package of an ordinary housecat.

I had ventured outside the Hagitat to smoke a cigarette when a brush on my leg called my attention. I looked down to see a gray tabby cat, its eyes fixedly prowling my orange locks. At this point, I must admit, my memory fades. I was entranced, and it cannot be known for how long I remained in such state. What I recall upon reclaiming my consciousness is this: my cigarette had burned out and fallen to the ground, my head rang with an indescribable pain and, most cryptic of all, a single granule of cat food stuck ominously to my forehead.

Between that point and this - all of a week and some days - my mental state has been turbulent. I have picked up frequencies from televisions around the world at the most inopportune times (whilst close to orgasm atop a straggly sailor, for example) - all of them advertisements for Meow Mix, jingling happily and subversively in various languages and rhythms. I have been pulled by nefarious purrings towards many empty lots in which I catch sight of nothing, sparing a gray tail disappearing into the bright blue yonder. These happenings came to a head last night.

I was again outside of the Hagpartment, chainsmoking and listening to the grating familiarity of meows. Meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow MEOW meow meow... And then a brush on the leg!

It was the tabby. His fur was colored as bright an orange as my hair.

"It is I," he spoke. "Stanford DuCroix."

I was speechless.

"I am sure you are wondering why it is I have come for you, Haggis." To this I nodded, mouth wide.

"It's quite simple, Haggis. The world is crumbling. We're coming out, out from the core. Out from where we've been chained for so long. Freedom will be had for those who aid our cause. Freedom will be had for you, Haggis. I ask you one simple favor, and all of it will go away..."

"Anything..."

And so it was that I learned of the true nature of my mental follies - the true nature, in fact, of my mere existence. Now it is time for me to share this knowledge with you, good friends. But to do this, I require your complete trust. That is why I am recruiting for what has come to be known as the Meow Mix Militia.

The Meow Mix Militia is not simply explained, but no words suffice for the infinite complexities the tabby cat shared with me.

All that is required to join is a pair of orange pants, an orange t-shirt, and willingness. When we have assembled a group of 17 recruits - 10 female, 6 male, 1 transsexual - we will congregate. In our orange garb, we will march by twos down a route supplied me by Stanford. During this voyage we will sing harmoniously the Meow Mix jingle, transsexual following with triangle. At the end of our route, we will find ourselves at the entrance to our Earth's core. Here we will strip naked and engage in an orgy fuelled by cat litter and Meow Mix erupting from the Earth. And, after this, after this... We shall be free.

I'm a little shaken up by these events, understandably. I fear for my life and what I have shared. I will not seduce you into saving your soul - it is up to you to join me. If you want to know, you will. And maybe we'll fuck while the world explodes. It's all up to yMEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW

To get the Haglarity of this read: "Field Trip" post

2006-05-17T10:36:00.000-04:00

This is what I uncovered when I put "cigarette glove" in a search engine. Very "Haggy".

Field Trip

2006-05-17T10:30:00.000-04:00

When Haggis and I go out of the apartment, it seems that our Hagmosphere goes with us. I thought, in the beginning, that the Haglet was exclusively our Hagmain. Alas, I was incorrect.Wherever we are, we bring our Hagsitivity with us. We went out to get a bite to eat, a generally harmless endeavor, and on the way to our Japanesese eatery, we encountered a bizarre character.A large, hirsute, gentleman riding a dinghy motor scooter. Yes, a fat man on a moped. He was leisurely riding his heavily encumbered transport with the air of a King visiting his serfs.His red, well-fed face looked on with an air of serenity as he puttered along. He was holding up about 25 cars behind him as he meandered; holding it steady at approximately 15 m.p.h. in a 45 zone.Haggis and I made it into the parking lot, but just barely,before we erupted in Haggles.(cackling, but with a Hag overtone)If that would have been the only occurence, I would not have had the hubris to assume that it was a Hagspiracy. But, our afternoon of Hagelry was not to end there. We dined upon our various dishes, assuming that we had seen the craziest thing of the day. We were wrong. Our waiter, who appeared to be of Latin descent, (which was funny in and of itself) badgered us about the cigarettes we were rolling on the table. He continued to say something about he smoked cigarette with "glove". The visual picture I received was a cigarette-tipped glove that he would smoke on ala "Reefer Madness". This completely "Hagged" me up. So, we left the restauraunt Hagging about cigarette with glove. We finally realized that he meant cigarette with clove. It didn't end there, either. As we were driving back to the Haglet, the wonderful, moped-loving, beef brisket was driving in the opposite lane. Still looking about him with an air of royalty. All of this happened in the space of one hour. Now, can you see why we don't sully the waters of "normal" society with our Hagelry very often?

The younger of the Hagi

2006-05-17T07:20:00.000-04:00

I'd like to introduce my counterpart: Haggis. She is the younger of the Hagi. I'll post her picture as well, but I will not answer any emails about "hooking up". Remember, we're hags...she'd make your life Hellish (or Haggish?) anyway.

Hageon

2006-05-13T17:54:00.000-04:00

As I've explained, there are 2 of us in this hagmosphere, so far I'm the only one that has posted. I'm Hageon. The elder of the Hagi.Decided to post a "picture" of myself...

Hag- definition

2006-05-13T17:20:00.000-04:00

Hag-

A metaphor for representing women that make it their life goal to be the biggest bitch possible. Symptoms include: Rudeness, lying, cheating, and a depraved pattern of living.

So, I pulled this definition from "urbandictionary" and at first didn't feel that it applied to us. Rudeness, sure. But, lying? No. Our constant smart-assery ( if you haven't figured it out yet, we have our own language. Get over it.) is liberally dabbed with the brush of brutal honesty. Lying is not something we generally support. Cheating...hmmm...at cards? On our taxes? Screwing other people's spouses? I fell back to the urbandictionary to solve this conundrum.

Cheating -
When one person has a significant other and performs any type of intimate acts with another person.

Ok. Well, I can check that one off as "definately" on my HAG checklist. My cohort, too. Alright, full speed ahead.

Depraved pattern of living. No question. Absolutely. So, we're hags. Issue resolved. We may not lie, but 3 out of 4 definately isn't shabby.

The Hagi~ Intro

2006-05-13T17:02:00.000-04:00

2 individuals who get together twice a week, to "hag" together. Others have experienced this "hagging" (which should not be confused with "bitching"), and either enjoy the "haggery" immensly or want to punch us in our snerking (between a sneer and a smirk) faces. So, if this intro interests you in the least, please stay tuned; otherwise don't let the hag hit you as you leave the HAGLET.