You remember mud pies, the most disgusting mix of gruesomeness you could fit into whatever receptacle you had close to hand, mud and dirt and old cigarette butts, perhaps mixed together with a bit of mouldy apple juice – what is it that’s so satisfying about mixing up a whole lot of grim things and watching them coagulate?Īs a genre, breakcore is a tough one. At their most darkly atmospheric, his songs are a cross between a horror film and an auditory mud pie. Ten minutes later, Bond, his wet rags clinging to his scrubbed, stinging body and his hair slicked back out of his eyes, climbed over the top of the headland.My Love Is A Bulldozer is dark, beautifully chaotic, and cathartic. He caught a glimpse of the tip of his spear lancing into the centre of a black eyeball and then the whole sea erupted up at him in a fountain of blackness and he fell and hung upside down by the knees, his head an inch from the surface of the water. Bond reached for the top cable and frantically began to edge along the swaying fence towards the rocky headland twenty yards away.īond flattened himself against the rock and warily inched his head round the corner. To build the wire fence the men must have come from the left, from the direction of the jetty. Left was towards the ship, but also towards Doctor No. Then don't wait Get away quick Wildly Bond looked to right and left. Nothing, nothing but the spreading stain of black. He tore it out, got it between his two hands and wrenched the doubled wire almost straight.īut where was the squid? Would it come back? Bond searched the sea. But softly, gently, slowly The prize was almost intolerably sweet.īond thrust his knife between his teeth and his hand dived for the crook of the wire spear. Slowly, a thin, hard smile broke across the haggard, sunburned face. It would be about six o'clock, the dawn of a beautiful day.īond sat and thought, measuring distances, guessing at angles, remembering exactly where the crane driver's hands and feet were on the levers and the pedals. Perhaps even now they were watching the scout groups far out at sea locating the fish. Far above him the cormorants were wheeling round the guanera. Clouds tinged with golden pink were trailing away towards the horizon. From out of the mouth of the sock, in a solid downward jet, the scrambled-egg-coloured guano dust was pouring into the hold of the tanker at a rate of tons a minute.īond looked up at the sky. The purpose of the crane was to lift the wireframed mouth of the sock so that it hung directly over the hold of the tanker and to move it to right or left to give even distribution. Its mouth ended in a huge canvas sock, perhaps six feet in diameter. It was carried on high stanchions above the jetty and stopped just short of the hold of the tanker. From just to the right of the crane, an overhead conveyor-belt in a corrugated-iron housing ran out from the cliff-face. The rest of the crew would be below, battened away from the guano dust. There was no sign of life On board except one figure lolling at the wheel in the enclosed bridge. The tanker was called Blanche, and the Ant of Antwerp showed at her stern. It stood well out of the water, its deck perhaps twelve feet above the quay. An aged tanker of around ten thousand tons deadweight was secured alongside the top of the T. In front of him the jetty ran twenty yards out into the sea and ended in a T.
#8bit drummer creep driver
It was the Chinese Negro boss, the driver of the marsh buggy. Round the corner, not more than ten yards away, was the crane. The wounded squid had emptied its ink sac at him. It was covered with black slime, and blackness stained the sea for twenty yards around. He got a hold and reached up his other hand and slowly, agonizingly, pulled himself up so that he was sitting in the fence. So he must be alive Dazedly Bond let go the spear from his trailing hand and reached up and felt for the nearest strand of wire. But he could feel the wire cutting into the tendons behind his knees. His eyes were stinging and there was a horrible fish taste in his mouth. What had happened? Had he gone blind? He could see nothing. A narrow rocky track, made by the feet of the workers, led down the other side and round the bulge of the cliff.īond let his whole body slip down the ladder of wire and lunged through and down with all his force. Then Bond sat down and meticulously went over the photograph that was in his brain. There were iron ship-noises and the sound of water splashing into the sea from a bilge pump. He could hear the changing beat of its engine. From close by came various sounds and echoes.
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