Friday, 31 August 2012


SOOOOOOO, today is my bday. And I've not been posting on RA a lot, like at all recently. Work's been really hectic, and at home I don't have decent internet. But I plan to make up for that today. A mega post! With some videos I've been meaning to share for a while :) Enjoy!!

A person falling him in his glory in a hole he doesn't see? Ok!

A parody of a crazy Japanese ad with phallic objects? I think so!

A dude riding a bicycle the size of toy? Why, if you insist!

A dude playing the Mario theme, backwards, on a piano? But of course!

A bro moonwalking on rollerblades through a city centre? For sure!

So I hope you enjoyed my mega bday post. :) I apologize for not posting as much, but I've still got big plans for RA, so keep your eyes peeled and your mouse clicking :)

Tuesday, 28 August 2012

SHORT STORY: #5 The Sleeper

I know some of you enjoy my writing, so I'll share some more with you. Over the next few weeks I'll share with you some of my Short Stories I've written over the past few months/years. There's a special format I followed to write them. I take many random photos with my phone. Since I had my N70 all those years ago, and I've built up quite an extensive collection of random pics over the years. I'd take one of these pictures, and JUST START WRITING about it, what, in my mind, I thought could have been the scenario, what led to, and what happened before/after that picture was taken, what caused that moment in time to happen! Freestyling, if you will, with short story writing. The stuff I come up with = RANDOM. So, for the next few weeks, I'll make Tuesday; Short Story day :) ENJOY!

 #4: The Sleeper

This is a culmination of his risks.

A resultant of his choices.

The outcome of his failures as a man.

Society doesn't know he exists.

It doesn't care.

If he dies tomorrow, no-one will know.

His family thinks he's dead.

But better that than bring them down with him.

He once was a soldier. But now he lies forlorn.

They might think he's gone, a memory, but him lying there, serves a greater purpose.


But what society doesn't know, is that while they sleep, this man walks. While they slumber, he is doing things to save their lives. When they are at their most vulnerable, he is at his strongest. The very same people that look down on him daily, that snicker as they walk past his dirty body, semi-clothed body, lying almost lifeless on the streets.

What they don't know won't hurt them though. If they knew his purpose, what he done every night, he'd be hallowed as a hero. Treated like a king among men. Elevated to the status of legend of our time.

This man is part of a brotherhood of men, so secret, that they have no choice but to live as vagrants during the day. Their purpose is to protect the goodwill and protection of the human race in each country. They don't report back or answer to any government or police agency, as this would be against their code of conduct. You see, each country is run not by who you see, not by those you think you've voted for. It's not controlled or regulated by laws you think have been constitutionalized, not by police agencies enforcing justice, but by satin and silk suits in the shadows.

The suits control everything you see. Everything you hear. Everything you eat. Everything you touch. Everything you smell. You might think you own things, but it is actually your brain that is owned.

That's exactly where Garland was on his way to, so named, because of his garland-like scarf that he always wears. As the night fell, and midnight came, he arose from his slumber, and went to one of the pot plants in the city centre, those big ones, put there to beautify the CBD.

He was summoned to a new mission via his communication device on his arm, cleverly disguised as a cheap-looking arm band that he wears where he lies.

He knelt down and dusted off the bottom of the plant's ceramic pot, then gave the freshly dusted part a gentle blow, and it opened up. The whole bottom part of the pot slid out, it was a hydraulic drawer that could only be opened by his breath. That was his password to open it up. In so doing only he could open it up, because the drawer accessed his DNA make-up in his breath with specially developed Vagrant technology.

He pulled out a futuristic-looking suitcase, and underneath it was his helmet and hooded cloak, which he also took out. He took off the clothes he was wearing and put them in  the drawer. He opened up the suitcase and it was full of all sorts of gadgets and things. From it he pulled out a container with pills in it. He opened it and took out one octagonal orange pill and swallowed it. He almost instantaneously froze, then, an icy grip took hold of his entire body, creating a layer of ice, starting from his stomach, spreading to all the points of his body. After 5 seconds, he was totally frozen.

And then the ice broke!

From the shattered ice he emerged rejuvenated and fresh. You see, to keep up the vagrant appearance, he has to not cleanse himself for many days, and live in abject squalour and filth. It is all to sell the pretence that they are not what they are. So what this EndoCleanser pill does is freeze the inside of the body momentarily, which in turn freezes the outside as well, but the pill's effects are two fold, because as soon as the body is fully frozen it releases a heat pang which unfreezes the whole body immediately, thus cleansing the body of all bacteria. It's a well-known fact that body odour is caused by bacteria, and thus the freezing kills that bacteria, which means Garland never has to bathe in a traditional way, you see, there's no time to be wasted on bathing or wasting time on grooming in this vocation. Time is very valuable. He only has a maximum of 4 hours to do a mission on any given time.

He put his helmet on, and initialized the user interface inside it. The Vagrants were very, very well advanced with technology. They had to be, for the forces they fight against are quite far ahead of conventional technology.

With the interface initialized in the heads-up-display, he commanded:

  'Body-armour, online.'

And with that, out of the rim of the helmet, came thick black fluid, slowly moving down his entire body, bonding onto his skin. This was his body-armour being formed. It spread to all the parts of his body, and within 10 seconds, it had fully clothed him.

This armour was made of mix of carbon-fibre and bullet-proof plastic and allowed him freedom of movement but protection of his whole body. It used the electronic currents that run through the body and it amplifies it, making a single punch from a Vagrant as powerful as being shocked by a 1 000 000 volts. It was against the Vagrants code to shoot and kill innocent people, so they only depended on non-lethal weapons during their missions, as their missions were never about killing people or leaders of the suits, but in fact to stop them from killing thousands of people through stealth mass-killing.

He walked opposite the street, to where an old, dilapidated car was standing, he grasped the handle of the driver's door and commanded;

  'Vehicle, online.'

The car's doors and body parts broke into tiny plates that rotated and moved around until it was a black car, sleek, clean, but not out of place on the city streets. Inconspicuousness was key. He got inside and simply said,

  'Initiate drive sequence'

and he was on his way. There was no need to physically drive the car, because as he opened up the car, the mission data was automatically placed into the cars computer.

He was on his way to a bread factory.

His mission was simple. He had received information that The Suits were poisoning bread with just the right amount of poison that it couldn't be traceable.

You see, bread was the staple food in this land, and The Suits have figured out that, if they wanted to kill off the population, then they could do so without anyone noticing,

Garland was onto it and soon arrived at the bread factory.

Everything was quiet and locked down at the factory. Except for one little light on an upper floor of the factory. Garland breezed past the boom security-guard, who was fast asleep. Aren't they always? But why would a bread factory even have a security-guard in the first place? Maybe there was some theft of their machines or vehicles or, maybe something else was going down.

Garland quickly made his way across the parking and loading area of the factory, and he put his hands on the big door of the factory in front of him. He attempted to shock it open, it didn't want to work. He could just punch the entire door down, but stealth was key. No-one had to know he was there.

He climbed up on a gutter onto the first floor. He then walked across and launched himself onto a window sill, from there he scaled the wall onto a balcony. This was where the upper echelons of the company would hang out during their downtime. He was close to where he saw the light.

He took his case off his back, and took out what looked like a little dome. It was a drone camera, shaped like a little hemispere. It was minute, About the size of a thumbnail. He switched it on, and sent it through the air vent that was above him, and it started to buzz its way to the room where he saw the light. He was guiding it through his helmet and was seeing what it was seeing in his HUD.

The drone got to the room, and went through the keyhole to enter. It slowly flew through the room, scanning for information and any form of life.

There were voices emanating from one corner of the room, but there was nothing there. Just a blank wall.

Garland initiated the drone to do an infra-red-x-ray scan to see through the walls, and there it was, a secret room, with two people in it. From what his drone saw, it was a male and a female, in their mid-40s approximately. He positioned the drone on wall to try to hear what they're saying, and so that he could record it.

This is what it heard;

  '...this why I hired you, Gerero. Is everything in place?' said the female, a stocky-built, imposing woman, business suit, hair tied back, face like a truck had rammed into her face first.

  'Yes it is, Ms Wainterburn, everything is in place.' said the man, a pony-tailed, scrawny figure in what looked like a khaki uniform of some sort.

  'When does the ergotoxicosis start?'

  'It starts in exactly,' he takes a glance at his sports-like watch, wiping off the display, 'in eleven minutes time Ma'm'

  'Great stuff, are you sure no-one knows you're here?'

  'If they did, they'd be dead. I know how important this is.'

  'Stunning. Don't forget to take ALL the documents with you, leave nothing to chance, no-one must find out, understand.'

  'I understand.'

By this time Garland had realized that the drone had done his job, he'd have to go in himself now. He was halfway to where the room was, when he stumbled a bit, knocking over a bin.

Wainterburn and Gerero heard this. Garland moved faster. He had them recorded already via the drone, but he needed to apprehend them as well, and fast.

  'What was that?' asked an agitated Wainterburn, 'I thought you said no-one else was here!'

  'Only the security-guard is here, and he's always sleeping, see for yourself,' he says, pointing to the surveillance cameras behind her. 'Maybe it was just something that fell over, I dunno.'

  'Fine, but we're done here. Here's the last of the azithromycin,' she said, handing him a small case with viles in it, 'it should complete the dosage needed for the fungus to work its magic'

  'Awesome. No-one will see this coming.' Gerero smiled.

As they were packing up, Garland was just arriving outside the room where they were in. There was no way to get in. He took his case off his back, and took out what looked like four plastic tacks. They were shock-tacks. There was another way he could get into the room. He could simply place himself against the wall and explode it out with his electric energy, but, that would cause such a huge explosion and whole in the wall, and debris, and that would not be stealthy.

He put the tacks into the wall in the shape of a door. Two at the top, two at the bottom. He initiated the shock-tacks via his HUD, and slowly the tacks drew red lighted lines to each tack, connecting lines. The lines gave one big pulse and a doorway was perfectly cut. Stealth achieved. But not really. Garland couldn't even bring down the wall when Gerero pulled out a gun and started shooting. Garland dodged the falling piece of cement that was shock-tack-ed out of the wall as it thudded to the floor after being riddled with bullets.

Garland quickly hid behind the wall next to the opening, and as soon as Gerero's gun slowly protruded out the whole in the wall, he knocked the gun out his hand and tied his hands with a cable-tie behind his head, this way, he couldn't reach for anything. Wainterburn was hesitant, she didn't know if she should call someone for help, or try to get her weapon from her handbag, because it still had to be assembled, a business lady can't have big guns in her bag!

But it was too late. Garland had made his way to her. Her phone fell as she fumbled, and then she tried to smack Garland, but this is what he wanted, he blocked her, grabbed her arms, and tied it behind her head, just like he'd done with Gerero. Safe, clean, no-one gets hurt.

  'Who are you! And what do you want!' screamed Gerero from outside the room

  'Who I am doesn't matter,' said Garland sombrely, as he took the drone and copied the data onto his tiny computer that was in his case. 'All that matters is that I stop what you're planning, before more people are killed.'

  'What are you talking about?' said Wainterburn, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

  'You know exactly what I'm talking about. You work for The Suits, and I'm stopping your operation'

Her smug look transformed instantly to a more sinister one.

  'You were planning to poison all the bread in this factory, like you've been doing for many months, by adding more azithromycin to the bread formula, thus causing Ergotism to occur after people consume the bread, because although the fungi exists in a lot of bread that causes this condition, the potentiator you've been adding, causes it to interact in a way that's harmful to humans when ingested, causing spasms, diarrhea, paresthesias, itching, headaches, nausea, vomiting and in some cases even gangrene.

You're trying to kill off ordinary human beings, and it has to stop. And it will stop. Tonight.'

Wainterburn's face was consumed with irritation now, and she aptly showed it,

  'Who do you think you are, trying to stop us?! You'll never succeed,' she yelled, 'no-one will believe you.'

  'They will believe. The evidence has already been sent to everyone that needs to see it, and I will destroy all the samples of azithromycin you have, except for the one you're going to be caught with.'

  'You do know The Suits will get you, right?'

  'The Suits may be good at hiding themselves, but as long as they hide and plan the downfall of ordinary citizens, the more we'll find your sinister plans and dismantle them.'

  She then spat on his helmet, which his visor automatically wiped off with a flash of red light across the helmet.

  'Enjoy prison, Ms Wainterburn, send my regards to your other cronies I've put away.'

  'The Suits will get you!' She yelled as he walked out, on his way to destroy the rest of the azithromycin.

  'What will happen to us now, Ms Wainterburn?' Asked Gerero

  'We'll most probably be dead by morning.' she answered with resignation in her voice. 'We knew the risks of doing what we've done, so now we'll have to take the bullet so The Suits can fulfil their vision.

  'What about my family?' He asked.

  'If you live, they die. If you really care for them, you know that dying is the only way to keep them safe.'


Garland dismantled the machine that was feeding azithromycin into the bread formula. And sent his mission notes and footage through to other vagrants in the cities where the other bread factories are, as they have to conduct the same operation, there were three more factories, but that was their mission to fulfil. For now, the lives he saved are well over the millions. And they'll never even know about it.

As predicted by Wainterburn, they were taken away before anyone could notice they were gone, by The Suits' cronies. As important as secrecy is to The Vagrants, it is the same for The Suits as well. No-one could get whiff of what had happened here. They sealed off the room that had a whole made in it by Garland, and as for Wainterburn and Gerero, they were dispatched before sunrise and were disposed of quietly and cleanly, never to be seen again.

Secrecy is a dangerous game to play. But those who play it know the risks. And accept it when it goes wrong.

Garland is one of those people who play in this shadow game of secrets.

You might have seen people like him before. You might have snickered at people like them lying in the depths of despair in the streets of destitution. But you would never be half the men or women that they are.

Garland returned to his pot-plant with his car, as he locked the door, the cars panels broke into tiny pieces once more, this time returning to its less glamorous form, which no-one would ever bother looking into.

He opened the secret compartment of the pot, took out his Vagrant clothes. Took off his case, and initiated the de-armouring sequence, after which the armour retracted back into the helmet. He put it all back in the compartment, and locked it away, never to be touched again until the next mission. He put on his clothes, and sauntered back to his spot where he would spend the next few days until he was summoned once more to save lives.

His job was done. He had fulfilled this mission. He knelt down slowly, onto a familiar spot. And as he got into his lying down position, he recited the Vagrant Agent Code:

  'This is a culmination of my risks.

A resultant of my choices.

The outcome of my failures as a man.

Society doesn't know I exist.

It doesn't care.

If I die tomorrow, no-one will know.

My family thinks I'm dead.

But better that than bring them down with me.

I once was a soldier. But now I lie forlorn.

They might think I'm gone, a memory, but me lying here, serves a greater purpose.'


Next time you see a vagrant, don't be so quick to judge. You don't know what they do, what they've done, and what they've gone through..

This photo was taken at 13:18 on the 15th of December 2010. They say a picture speaks a thousand words, this one spoke 3041 words.

© Spenelo 2012 

 Look out for the next story, coming next Tuesday and find all the stories here>> SHORT STORIES

Monday, 27 August 2012

VIDEO: Dog flip

Monday's are notoriously hectic, even for chilled individuals such as myself, so I think you need to watch this video, just to chill :) It's a dog. Running after a big-ass ball. Falling and flipping. Sure to brighten up your Monday

Thursday, 23 August 2012

VIDEO: Model Catwalk Fails!

Soooo, I think models are funny. They are all serious and stuff and all they really just do is pose, and walk. I know there's more too it, but let's be honest, it's not ROCKET SCIENCE. :)

Anywayyyyy, this is video of Ramp Models FAILING HARD at doing the the one thing they have to do. WALK! Yes, they're wearing ridiculous outfits and crazy heels, but still! I was snorting with laughter!! :D This was shared to me via Ameera, from Twitter :)

Monday, 20 August 2012

VIDEO: Ghost Tits

I'm not the biggest fan of boobs, not saying I don't like em, just don't worship them like some bros do. But this is a very clever mock-trailer for a film of a horrific occurrence for every boob fan out there, mysteriously disappearing boobies! You'll giggle

Friday, 17 August 2012

VIDEO: Parkour Dog

It's Friday, so here's a dog. Doing parkour. It's the internet. Welcome.

Thursday, 16 August 2012

VIDEO: Somebody I Used To Know Cover Mashup

Gotye's treffer is by FAR thee most covered song of this year, if not of this decade, and he's done something really cool, he combined many of the covers and made a unique video mashup to experience the song in a whole new way.

If you like the song, you'll love this

Wednesday, 15 August 2012

BABE SCOUT: Jessica Ennis

Okay, been a while since I've done a Babe Scout, but the Olympics has given us many new babes to gaze upon, and, although, a lot of the women on show are rather muscle riddled man-beasts, there were a few who really caught the eye :)

One of them is British starlet Jessica Ennis, who, with her will to win and pretty face (and hot bod of course) gained a lot of fandom over the Olympics!

The English damsel was introduced to athletics in 1996 and after winning her first event, never looked back from then!

She't not just a pretty face, she graduated in Psychology in 2007 which makes her a bajillion times sexier :D Brains PLUS sexiness PLUS a unique athletic physique = Unique babe :D Enjoy the pics. :)

Tuesday, 14 August 2012

SHORT STORY: #4 The Journey

I know some of you enjoy my writing, so I'll share some more with you. Over the next few weeks I'll share with you some of my Short Stories I've written over the past few months/years. There's a special format I followed to write them. I take many random photos with my phone. Since I had my N70 all those years ago, and I've built up quite an extensive collection of random pics over the years. I'd take one of these pictures, and JUST START WRITING about it, what, in my mind, I thought could have been the scenario, what led to, and what happened before/after that picture was taken, what caused that moment in time to happen! Freestyling, if you will, with short story writing. The stuff I come up with = RANDOM. So, for the next few weeks, I'll make Tuesday; Short Story day :) ENJOY!

 #4: The Journey

Dawid Willemse was one very unhappy old man. Well, maybe not unhappy, but he always behaved like a grumpy old bear that had stuck his paw in a thorn bush, always speaking to people in an irritated tone, never smiling, just doing his daily commute from his house, into town, on his trusty bicycle, getting the paper, buying some groceries, and cycling back to his house. He lived in a very small town, it's very secluded, and far from the hustle and bustle of the city. He moved there a long while back, and has been living there for nearly 20 years now already.

But as with most people, he has a story. A reason for his behaviour. His life was an intricate quilt of complex issues woven out of many life-shaping events that transpired over the years. Events that, if they were just a little different, would have made that his life would be totally different to what it is now. But it's like that with all of us isn't it. We live a certain way, not expecting anything to change, then suddenly it does, and the way we react to those changes, determines where we end up.

Uncle Dawie, as he was affectionately known before he became the grumpy man on the vintage bike, is my uncle. Now, you see, Uncle Dawie's life before I was born, was way different to what it is now.

Before he moved to the more rural place he's living in now, he was a successful man. Living a family-driven, work-orientated life. He was a teacher at a high-school, and was very focused on his work and being a very good teacher. He drank a little after work every now and then, as do a lot of teachers, we know the stress is hectic, but he didn't drink so much, that it was a problem. He had two children, a girl, Dalia, and a boy, Devin. They grew up over time, and his wife, Aunty Adele, was a poster-child for the perfect house wife.

After the kids grew up, they moved out the house. First Devin, he became a mechanic, and enjoyed mild success with his own business fixing cars. He got married, to Ashley, a cashier from his town, his high school sweetheart, and after a few years they had a baby boy, Ashvin. They were pretty much a default family, living in the bliss of mediocrity.

Dalia was quiet and studious. She studied to become a nurse, and she soon started to work as a nurse after doing quite well during her in-training. She lived near the hospital where she worked. She was working for about 4 years when the family was rocked by first tragedy, then scandal.

Devin and Ashley were on their way out, to spend some time with each other, since the birth of their child, they've had precious little time to spend with each other as a couple. The little baby was taking up all their time. So they decided to drop Ashvin off at his parent's house. Aunty Adele was at home, so she could look after the bundle, while they went out to spend a couple's lunch together.

When they were done with their midday date, they hopped into their car, and proceeded to go Devin's parent's house to pick up the baby. But this is where everything went pear-shaped.

The town was in a process of rebuilding and renovating, and there were many trucks driving around with big parts of building material as cargo, and there was many roadworks as the infra-structure was being improved. Devin found himself driving behind a large truck that had heavy cement pipes as its cargo, strapped to the carriage behind the front part of the truck. The weather was fine, not much wind, just some clouds, but up ahead was some roadworks, lots of dust was hanging in the air, and the lack of wind meant it wasn't blowing anywhere. Devin tried to overtake the truck, but the construction had reduced the road to one lane only, and it was too dangerous to overtake. Ashley told him to calm down, and he did, but as they approached the roadworks and dust, the road became rather wobbly, then, suddenly!

The truck, that was driving a tad over the speed limit, especially taking into account its cargo, saw a big pothole a little too late, and the combination of the truck trying to sway out the way, and some of its wheels thudding into the pothole, caused the thick wires holding down cement pipes to snap, and the pipes started to roll around in the trucks carriage, and then, the truck saw another pothole too late, and with the momentum of that knock, in a matter of seconds, one pipe slid off, straight into Devin's windshield, killing him instantly. This caused the car to swing and sway, and it eventually rolled onto its side. And that killed Ashley, after surviving the first knock.

It was a terrible sight.

When the paramedics and ambulances got onto the scene, they managed to get the mangled bodies out of the wreck, and saw in his wallet, his identity, and one of the paramedics realised he knew Devin's father, he was his son's teacher at the school, he called the school to tell Uncle Dawie the news, that his son and his sister in law have just been killed...

Uncle Dawie didn't like cars, the school he taught at was near to his house, so he always travelled by bicycle, it kept him fit and he enjoyed it. Upon hearing this shocking news, he immediately left the school to go to his house, where his wife was looking after the now-orphaned Ashvin, so that he could bring her the bad news, and take them to the hospital so that they could do the final identification of the bodies.

But if he thought losing his son was the only shock he was going to get that day, he was in for an even more nauseating surprise…

He came home, and it was quiet. He walked through to where Ashvin was, and he was there, sleeping in his cot. He called his wife's name, but there was no answer. He was now a tad worried. He checked the bathroom, the kitchen, the lounge, nothing. Only his bedroom was left to check upstairs.

He heard shrill quiet yelping sounds emanate from his bedroom, he opened the door quickly and there was his wife. With another man. A man he didn't know. They were so intensely busy that they didn't even realize he was there. Aunty Adele was pinned down underneath the younger man, a blanket covering their action area, moaning with delight, while this strange man was on top of his wife, ramming her like a freight-train. He didn't wait for them to finish what they were doing. Uncle Dawie wasn't a violent man, but he. Saw. Red. He stormed in, and without saying anything kicked the man off his wife. He fell to the floor with a thud and his wife shrilled and covered herself up with a blanket, as if she had something to hide. Both men have seen her outside and her inside multiple times. They knew it well. But seemingly this man knew it better than Uncle Dawie, you could tell that by the satisfied moans Aunty Adele gave moments before. She screamed that it wasn't what it seemed! They always say that, don't they. Uncle Dawie felt something you and me possibly won't ever feel. He felt the abject sadness of losing his only son to a freak accident, but before he could even tell his wife about their loss, he suffered the stinging hurt of losing his wife to someone else, someone else had stolen his beloved wife, but stolen was not the right word, stolen means something was unwillingly taken, and she was willingly taken.

I don't know which pain was worse, the death or the cheating. Only Uncle Dawie knows.

It felt like that very same cement pipe had just fallen on him. The culprit tried to tackle him, and he punched him over, multiple times, without even looking at him, just staring blankly ahead of him, his rage turning into nothingness, emptiness, his wife's screams became muffled as his life literally flashed before him. It all seemed like one gigantic waste. So many years of commitment and sacrifice, disintegrated in an instant. After a while he snapped out it, and the rage came back. He walked to the perpetrator, who was now writhing in pain, curled up on the floor, his nose bloodied, and proceeded to knock him out with a few well guided punches to his temple.

With the man who entered his wife now lying unconscious on the floor, he looked blankly to his wife, who was now crying and sniffing, saying, 'I'm sorry' repeatedly through her fake tears, they were generated more by the fact that she was caught out, than the actual being-unfaithful-to-her-husband part. He told her:

  'Devin is dead. Ashley as well.'

  'What?!' Aunty Adele yelled, still with the blanket around her.

  'That's why I'm here earlier, to tell you they're dead.' Tears were now starting to well up in his eyes.

  'What do you mean? How?' Her tears were now becoming genuine.

  'They died in a car accident on the way back here,'

  'O my Lord, how did this happen?!' She cried, forgetting what she was just caught doing is pretty much the same on the richter-scale-of-doom to Uncle Dawie as his son dying, because, not only did she die at that moment in his brain, but a huge part of him died as well.

  'I, I,' he started to stammer, it became too much for him, and his brain switched from his son to his (soon-to-be-ex) wife, 'how do I, how could you? Who the fuck is this?!' He yelled pointing to the bloodied heap on the floor.

  'This is not important right now! What happened to Devin and Ashley?!' She screamed.

  'You're right, not important. 25 years of marriage is not important. At all.'

  'Can we discuss this later, I can explain everything! But please tell me what happened to Devin!'

  'Fuck you. FUCK. YOU! I'm taking Ashvin to his sister, and we're going to the hospital.' he screamed. 'You irresponsible witch, you're supposed to be looking after our Grandson, our one and ONLY grandson, but instead you pump yourself full of another man. Was it worth it? Is this the reason why you've been so distant in the last few weeks? How many times have I told you before that we should talk things out? Always communicate. You never listen.'

  'You're, you're...' she tried to think up an excuse..

  'Just shut it. I'm leaving you, as of today. I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear you, and you and your wimp of a man can fuck all you want. But you, are not, going to look after my grandson, not a chance. He's Dalia's child now, I'll make sure of that.'

With that, he stormed out of the bedroom, got Ashvin's things, and went to Dalia.


That's not how it worked out for Uncle Dawie though. After the accident and impending funerals of Devin and Ashley, Aunty Adele argued that Uncle Dawie was not a fit husband, and that his alcoholism was getting in the way of his teaching, and was making him frisky with some girl students at his school. None of this was true. But it did enough to ruin his reputation to such an extent that he lost his job.

Because Aunty Adele was the one that cheated, and because their kids were all grown up and no longer living with their parents, everything was split right down the middle. Dalia got the custody of the child, but because of the accusations leveled at Uncle Dawie, and the obvious treachery of Aunty Adele, Dalia wasn't sure if she wanted either parent to be part of Ashvin's life, and she banned them from seeing him. Aunty Adele moved in with her younger man, who turned out to be just some guy that worked at the gymnasium where she done some exercise every now and then. Aunty Adele claimed he 'showed genuine interest' in her, more than her husband did, and that was what attracted her initially, and for the 'sake of her husband and her marriage' she didn't want to let him know when it started to become serious. Big mistake. As it ultimately destroyed her entire family. Honestly is never overrated. She found this out too late.

Uncle Dawie took his most important belongings, his savings, and his bicycle, and went away. Far, far, far away. That was 20 years ago. In those 20 years Aunty Adele enjoyed 2 years of happiness with her new man, until it turned out that he is abusive and domineering, and he started to hit and abuse her. This went on for another 2 years before Dalia eventually found out and got a restraining order against the douche. Her mother was too afraid to break up with him, scared he might hurt her or worse, Dalia was having nothing thereof. He was forced to go away and when he tried to attack her again, he was arrested and put away for a few years.

25 years of marriage, sacrificed for that. Brilliant.

She later found out she was pregnant with the guy's child, and this devastated her to her core. She fell into a deep depression but eventually, about 4 months into the pregnancy, the foetus died inside her. Turns out she had cancer of the womb, and that's what killed the foetus. For another 15 years she suffered slowly, but she lived with Dalia, and Dalia nursed and took care of her.

Meanwhile, Uncle Dawie was just living his life in a constant state of what-could-have-been, that's why he was as bitter as he was. No-one in the town bothered to get to know him. Over 20 years, hardly anyone spoke to him, and anyone that did, got the same sort of cold treatment. You'd never get more than a nod of the head or a grunt out of him. He had to do that though. If he opened up to anyone about anything, he'd crack and fall into that depression again, and he wouldn't have that. The whole reason he came to live so far was to avoid that from happening.

But one day, on his usual travels, he received a letter from someone. Me! His nephew. Brent Willemse.

I was his only brother's son. They've obviously grown apart over the many years he’s been gone, but I still remember him fondly, and I was sick and tired of this family apart crap. This is what I put in the letter:

Dear Uncle Dawie

It has been years since we've heard of you, how have you been? How are things on that side? Hope everything is cool. This is Brent Willemse, your nephew. Remember me? Probably not. I was very young when you left to start your new life. But I know all about you and your story.

But I'll cut to the chase. You need to come home, to your family.

I know how you feel about your wife, you hate her, with every cell in your body. But that's ok. Most of us do as well, but guess what, she's dead! She started to change a bit towards the end of her illness, but I still remember what she done to you and the name of our entire family. You probably didn't know, but that guy cheated on her, and started to abuse her as well. Dalia did NOT like this, at all, and got a restraining order against him, he ignored it, and was arrested! Score! After that she fell pregnant with his child, but the foetus died, as she had womb cancer. Since then and over many years, the cancer spread through the rest of her body. Dalia was looking after her for many years, but she died, the cancer beat her. BUT. Her sickness has taken its toll on Dalia, who, as you know, has raised Ashvin practically on her own.

She's now ill in hospital with a blood related disease. To heal her they need a particular type of blood, but they can't find the correct kind, so she has very little time left. Don't you at least want to see your daughter one more time before she dies? And what about Ashvin? Don't you want to meet him?! Don't you think it's time you become a grandfather for him! He's nearly a grown man and he doesn't even know the sound of your voice! There are many kids who'll give their all just to spend some time with their grandparents.

I know you'll do the right thing. That's why I wrote you.

Thanks for reading this far.

Your's faithfully

After reading the letter, he sat down, got his pipe, took a few puffs. Thought about it. Made some coffee. Drank it. And thought some more. He decided he'll sleep on it.

He done just that, and when he woke up at the crack of dawn, he decided he had to go to his daughter. To see her one more time. He got ready, locked up everything and got on his bike to leave for the train station that was about 25km away.

After a good few hours, he reached the station, and got a ticket to the town where his family lived. It would be a long trip. Well over 500km.

The train gave him a lot of time to think about what he wanted to say to his daughter. To tell her why he had to leave. And that not a day went by that he didn't think about her and little Ashvin.

About halfway to his stop, the train started making funny sounds. Then it came to a slow stop. It stood still. For a half an hour. Then it started to go again. A message was relayed through the train that the train was having engine trouble, but that they would try to get the train through to the next station, so that they could get another train. But that never happened. After another hour and a half of waiting, Uncle Dawie took his suitcase, strapped it to his back, and got on his bike.

He still had a whopping 250km to cycle to get to his family, he hoped that he would get there in time to see his daugter alive. The road was open, and the road was long. You could see uphills from far, and long downhills when those uphills were ascended. But he peddled one way, oblivious of the pain the suitcase was starting to cause.

But things were just about to get a little harder. And by a little I mean much harder.

After he cycled about 40km, he road past what looked like a squatter camp, which was weird. He was in the middle of nowhere. He didn't pay much attention to it, but soon he did. Two guys came out from behind some bushes and ordered him to stop. He had no choice. He stopped. The one pulled out a knife and ordered him to take off the suitcase, Uncle Dawie refused. The knife-wielder didn't waste time and tried to come in to force his way, but Uncle Dawie took his bike and whacked him with it over his head, knocking him out cold. The other one then proceeded to run away because he was afraid he might get a metal sandwich through his face as well. What they didn't know is that Uncle Dawie was quite strong for an old man. He worked out regularly each day, and was as fit as he could be for a man of his age.

But his defense came at a price. His bike's front wheel was now deformed. So much so, he couldn't ride the bike anymore. His suitcase only had one spare wheel in it, and it was a tad worn out as well, but he put it on and cycled on again. If he were to be attacked again, he'd have to walk further, he only had one spare wheel packed, which was now in use. But he drove past a sign a few kms back, which said that there's a big service station coming up soon.

He reached the big service station after about 10kms of laboured riding, and stopped to rest.

He chained his bike to a lamppost, and went to the bathroom to relieve himself of the pee that was building for a rather long time now already.

He went to the bathroom. He was sweating profusely and doused his face with some water, and proceeded to urinal, his case still on his back, making him look like a tortoise walking upright. He caught the eye of another man, also at the urinal, not in a weird way, just in a, what-on-earth-is-that-on-his-back way.

When he was done and walked to wash his hands, the man also came to wash his hands. He couldn't resist asking him…

  'excuse me, Sir, if you don't mind me asking, why are you carrying that huge suitcase on your back?'

  'It's my luggage, son,' Uncle Dawie replied.

  'Why don't you just leave it in your boot?' asked the man, who was dressed in simple clothes, a jeans, a golfer shirt and cap with some logo on it.

  'I don't have a car. I'm cycling to my destination.'

 The man guffawed heartily, then when he saw the man gave no reaction, he asked

  'Are you serious?!'

  'I'm an old man on a mission. I have no time for jokes, son.' he said blankly.

  'Which side are you going?' the man asked.

  'South.' he pointed.

  'Well, I'm going the same way. I'm a truck driver, and I'm expected in the town in the south in the morning.'

  'I couldn't, I don't have any money to give you towards the trip.'

  'Don't be silly, Sir. It's not every day you see an old man commuting with a suitcase on his back, I'll help you out Uncle.' He said with a genuine smile on his face.

  'Thanks a lot, Son, what's your name?'

  'Ronny,' he replied. I'm Ronny.

  'I'm Dawid. But just call me Uncle Dawie.'

  'Ok, lets get going'

  'Ok. Just have to get my bike quick.'

And with that Uncle Dawie got his bike, and joined a new friend, something he's not had in years, on a, now faster, trip, to see his daughter.

It was pretty quiet for the first few kilometers. But then Ronny broke the ice and said:

  'Uncle Dawie, it's still a long way before we get to our destination, so I'm gonna go ahead and ask you...what's your story?'

  'What do you mean by "story"?'

  'Well, tell me more about yourself? And your journey?'

  'Well, I don't usually talk to people about myself. It's better that way.'

  'You don't have to worry with me. I'm just driving you to your destination, then we'll never see each other again, so you can vent all you want.'

  'I don't know.'

  'Well. If you're not going to talk, then I will. Heaven knows I travel alone all the time, so now that I've got a companion, I'm gonna talk a bit!' Said Ronny talking to Uncle Dawie, but looking ahead of him, focusing on the road.

Uncle Dawie thought for a bit, then conceded: 'Ok, go ahead, son.'

  'Ok.' He took a deep breath, 'well, my story isn't a very long one. I'm a truck driver, from far south. Dropped out of school in Grade 11. I was very lazy. And didn't have real direction in my life. Both my Mom and Dad were very much stuck in the bottle. Argued a lot, but very much stuck in love as well. I think the alcohol kept them miserable, and that in turn kept them together. Not exactly a good environment to breed success is it,' he smiled, 'anyway, after that I slumped a bit in my life. Got drunk every day, partied with people I thought were my friends, but they were just as lost as I was. I got a girl pregnant, but the mother was even more irresponsible and messed up than I was. We both lost custody of the child after she was born, we were too reckless. She's living with my grandmother now. But that was the thing that got me to change. It got me on track. Seeing my daughter taken away from me, got me thinking there must be more to life. It gave me direction again. I wanted to care for her, so that she can grow up better than me, and not in the same environment. So I stopped drinking so much. I limited myself to just one beer a night, and one party day each fortnight, when I wasn't working, with the view in the future to stop it permanently. I went to get my truck license, and, although I didn't pass first time, I got it second time round. Started at this company and I've been promoted twice already, and I stopped drinking after the first promotion. I've now earned enough money to send my daughter through school, and I even married her mom, getting her off the alcohol as well. So, although my life's not perfect, at least I have direction. Family can do that to you.'

  'Wow. I'm so glad things worked out for you,' answered Uncle Dawie, who was filled with the trials of this man he'd just met. It made him remember that life is hard for other people too. And with that he began telling his story, from start to finish.

  'Ok, I'll tell you a bit about me..'


  '...And that's where I'm off to, to my daughter. I don't want her to die without me telling her I love her dearly. And that I'm sorry for staying away so long.' He concluded morosely

  'It takes a big man to do what you doing. To man up and ask for forgiveness. I really admire that.' Ronny smiled while keeping his eyes on the road. It was starting to become dark now. 'By morning we'll be at our destination.

They drove all through the night. Ronny not even flinching. His body clock was tuned into this driving by now. Uncle Dawie slept right through, and the sun rising gradually woke him.

  'How far are we now?' Uncle Dawie asked, still very sleepy, doing a stretch with his arms

  'About 10 minutes away Uncle. Where do you want me to drop you?'

  'Just drop me at the hospital, thanks.'

  'Ok, no problem, sleep on, I'll let you know when we're there,' he said smiling.

  'Nah, it's ok, I don't want to be sleepy when I meet my daughter. Do you have some water? I wanna brush my teeth'

  'Sure, in the middle compartment,' he said while opening up the seat part in-between them.

  'Great, thanks, and thanks for all that you've done. You really helped me out, son.'

  'It's a pleasure, it was great having some company for a change.'

And within the next few minutes, they were at the hospital. After 20 long years in solitude, Uncle Dawie was about to see his daughter again. He hasn't seen her since she was a young adult. He's not seen Ashvin since he was a baby. He had a lump in his throat the size of a tennis ball. It was too late to turn back now. He thanked Ronny with a handshake and a tip of his hat, and he walked slowly into the hospital…

His heart starts to beat a little faster. Everything else seems to blur out, then back in again. He asks someone at a reception desk where she's lying. They say where. He gets an elevator. It stops. He gets out on the 3rd floor. Go left, after the red door, go right, Room 3 E.

He's standing in front of the door. Suitcase in hand. Heart in mouth. What was he going to see? Was he ready? Enough wasting time. He's wasted 20 years of his life, because he was too scared to confront his demons, too proud to open up to anyone, to heartbroken to live a normal life.

That was about to end.

He slowly gripped the handle of the door. Turned it. He walked in..

The room was...empty?

The room was empty.

He looked on the bedside table for anything. Any papers or notes or anything. Nothing.

He quickly ran outside the room and found a nurse and worriedly asked her:

  'Excuse me, Nurse, I'm looking for Dalia Willemse?'

  'O, Sir, you've just missed her. She's been moved to Intensive Care.' said the nurse with an amicable face. 'It's just down the passage, I'll show you where it is.'

  'Here it is, Sir,' said the nurse as they arrived at the room. She left and he opened the door. Dalia was lying motionless, pipes all over the show, in her mouth, in her side, he couldn't see if she was conscious or not. There was a young man sitting at her side. Holding her hand with his head down. He looked up. It was Ashvin. He was all grown up now, and didn't recognize his grandfather when he caught his gaze.

  'Hallo. You must be Ashvin.' Said Uncle Dawie.

  'Yes,' he confirmed. 'Yes, I am.'

  'I'm Dawie. Your...' he hesitated, 'Your Grandfather.' he said, as the tears welled up in his eyes. Without saying anything more, Ashvin let go of Dalia's hand and ran to Uncle Dawie and embraced him. They held each other for a few seconds. When they let go of each other, both of their eyes were tear-laden.

  'You came,' he smiled as he looked at his grandfather in real-life for the first time in his life, the first time that he'll actually remember, and not as a baby.

  'I did,' Uncle Dawie smiled, it came so naturally. Smiling was something he hadn't done in years, and it just came naturally when he saw his grandson for the first time since he was a baby. 'How is Dalia?' He asked, as his smile turned to worry.

  'Not good. She needs a particular type of blood, with a certain type of chemical in it. No-one seems to have it.'

  'What do they mean by 'chemical'? Maybe they can test my blood?'

  'I'm not sure. We can ask the doctor when she comes in later.'

  'Can I?...' He asked Ashvin as he motioned with his hand to hold Dalia's hand'

  'Go for it. You've waited long enough.' Ashvin smiled.

Uncle Dawie walked over to her bedside, and held his daughter's hand, for the first time since the incidents that ruined his life. It felt different, yet familiar. He could feel the strain of adulthood in her hands, but he could still feel the child he reared in his hands. Her hands were like a time-machine, showing him images of years gone by, happier years. She fluttered her eyes slightly, and mustered a single word through a sickly smile


  'Yes Dalia, its me'

  'I'm so glad you came,' she said in a barely audible voice, 'I'm so glad I get to see you one last time...before I die'

  'Don't talk like that Dalia, there's still hope, there's always hope.' 

 She gave one last smile before she lost consciousness again. Uncle Dawie thought he'd lost her, but Ashvin assured him she was like this, the sickness made her very weak.

  'Take me to the doctor.' He’gently commanded to Ashvin.

They went to the doctor, and his blood was tested. It turned out that Uncle Dawie had the blood that was needed. But they also found out another thing when they tested him. That he had water around the heart. And here comes the ironic part. If he didn't go for thes tests, he would've died in the next few weeks!

They told him he'd have to be operated on, and he agreed. His blood managed to save Dalia. But there were some complications with his operation, and he was in, what looked like a coma for a day or two.

But he came to four days later, to Dalia, Ashvin and my relief. That operation got himself another few years in the tank. Just enough for him to enjoy his new life that he found. Dalia forgave him for running away from everything all those years ago, and the family grew from strength to strength from there.

This photo was taken at 13:18 on the 15th of December 2010. They say a picture speaks a thousand words, this one spoke 5460 words.

© Spenelo 2012 

 Look out for the next story, coming next Tuesday and find all the stories here>> SHORT STORIES

Monday, 13 August 2012

VIDEO: Synchronised Cats

It's monday. You need a quick break from work. Spenelo used SYNCHRONISED CATS, IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE!

Tuesday, 7 August 2012

SHORT STORY: #3 The Passage

I know some of you enjoy my writing, so I'll share some more with you. Over the next few weeks I'll share with you some of my Short Stories I've written over the past few months/years. There's a special format I followed to write them. I take many random photos with my phone. Since I had my N70 all those years ago, and I've built up quite an extensive collection of random pics over the years. I'd take one of these pictures, and JUST START WRITING about it, what, in my mind, I thought could have been the scenario, what led to, and what happened before/after that picture was taken, what caused that moment in time to happen! Freestyling, if you will, with short story writing. The stuff I come up with = RANDOM. So, for the next few weeks, I'll make Tuesday; Short Story day :) ENJOY!


I find myself meandering through these passages again. Cold, murkily lit, the air drenched with the piercing smell of suffering and urine fused into a stomach-roiling cocktail of disinfectant and melancholy.

I’ve been here before. More than I would have preferred. I’ve seen my happiest days in these very passages, but some of the worst as well. But after the last time I vowed never to come back. The pain I faced then was unassailable. I used to laugh when I was younger. I used to sing. I always had a song in my heart. But life has now taken it away. I sit crying night after night, thinking how I’m going to survive another day with all these problems. Thinking back to all the things I’ve been through. Not knowing how I pulled through.

3 years earlier

It’s been 3 years now that my father has left us. My mother, Trudy, used to cry day in and day out. Not knowing how her loving husband, Robbie, could just run away with another woman like this. She’s older than my mom, but this jezebel offers the joys of frivolous sex without the worries of a wife, children and a household to look after. It’s like he’s trying to be young again. Mummy doesn’t cry any more. She replaced the tears with cigarettes. Her habitual vice has now mutated into a smog guzzling monstrosity that withers away our already exhausted budget and her already waning health, but she is oblivious to all this, and carries on wasting away her life.

Samuel tries to help us out. He tries real hard. He’s the only member of our family that actually became something. He lives far away with his wife in Scandinavia somewhere, not quite sure which country there, and is a physiotherapist for some or other sports team. I don’t know which one coz I’m not really a sporty kinda girl, I prefer reading a good romance book with a Rooibos tea to sweaty sports thugs.

But Samuel’s wife watches his finances and what he does like a hawk. She’s a nice person, but looks down on us, because of the lives we live. Mummy is a nicotine-chimney, Cape Calypso-guzzling loafer that sells herself to the sleaziest of men for an extra dime to put food on the table; a shadow of her former very successful self. My younger brother, Brently, totally lost the plot when his father left, and is now ensnared in a plethora of drug activity and messes with the wrong crew for the wrong reasons, trying to find a father figure in a gang leader, or comfort in easy women or respite from the pain with drugs.

Samuel used to be Rebecca this and Rebecca that, and she’s the best, and all that crap, until I ruined my own life with a total loser promising me the world and comforted me after my father’s death. I fell pregnant, and fell for the lies of these manipulative bullies who were much older than me thrice in two years, three different guys, but had one child aborted because there wasn’t a normal gap of 9 months in-between the second and third child. I found comfort in sex with these cretins, hoping I would find love and security from a man, something I didn’t get from my father, but all they were after was my vagina, which was now, well and truly overused. My dreams of becoming just like Samuel, successful, wise and prosperous, took a knock with my first born, and just totally vanished after the third pregnancy, along with Samuel’s trust and endorsement.

I hold my mother’s hands with all these things rumbling through my head ferociously like a pair of shoes in a washing machine. She can no longer breathe properly. The emphysema and cancer has ravaged her entire respiratory system and has made her weak. Her addictions have caught up with her, but I’m thinking, that maybe this is for the best, this infliction, this hurt, can’t be more painful than the life she reduced herself to live. I pray. For the family, but mostly for her. I ask the Lord to forgive her sins, she is a good person underneath all this filth. She no longer has friends, shunned away by her family, but I tell her God is always there no matter what happens, God will always care. She looks at me, death etched into her face, suffering carved into her lips, but in her eyes, I saw hope, in those yellow, bloodshot, cancerous eyes, I saw hope, then she closed them, and didn’t open them again. She had passed away. But somehow I knew she was going to better place.

I find comfort in the fact that, although my life is troublesome and jinxed, I cling onto the glimmer of hope that happiness and success can only be appreciated once you have suffered heartache and disappointment. God will not take us through these journeys, if he didn’t think we were strong enough. 


After her mother’s death, Rebecca used the money she received from the insurance payout to send Brently to rehab and to get his life back on track again. After a year of rehab he joined a soccer team, and is now playing regularly and
is off the drugs. Rebecca went back to college and studied while working to look after her kids and after 3 years got a degree in Marketing and now has a job and a loving husband and has turned her life around, all but cancelling out her dark and arid lifestyle, with the memory of her mother the inspiration to not repeat her footsteps and to be a better person.

This photo was taken at 14:51 on the 15th of November 2008. They say a picture speaks a thousand words, this on spoke 953 words.

© Spenelo 2012

Look out for the next story, coming next Tuesday :)