Bob was an intense dude. You’d best describe him as a cop on the edge, a maverick who played by his own rules, a red-faced sizzled douchebag. He had terrible pockmarks and dirty fingernails – the hallmarks of a deviant. He had no swag. Teddy Baker called him his ‘favourite motherfucking city-dwelling redneck’. I shook his hand and Bob just kinda nodded at me. Teddy Baker ushered us out of the bar and we went into the flat above it. Inside it was this empty exposed floorboard crack den chic kinda place where there was no furniture, only a sofa and a chair and a mattress that all looked like they’d been at the business end of a stream of piss. ‘Right on,’ I said. And they both laughed. Inside the flat – sorry, the apartment – was cold and empty. No one lived here. But Teddy Baker walked over to the cupboard by the door and opened it. Inside there were 3 long costumes hanging up. He grabbed them and threw one to me.
‘Put that on,’ he said. I asked what it was. ‘You’ll see,’ he said and winked.
He stripped down to his meat and stood in front of me, cock swinging for all to see. Let me tell you homeys, right? If Aziz is the guy with the ample length to arm himself with a billy club then this guy has a weapon of mass ejaculation down his pants. He pulled at it and I was thinking, what the hell is this place? Some kind of weird swingers doggers furries bears circle jerk empty flat? Was I about to get myself killed? Now, peoples, you know I don’t mind a bit of stranger danger but this is weird. He started putting on his outfit and it was an all-in-one wetsuit spandex monstrosity. It was black and grey with silver shoulder blades, and … yes, a cape.
‘Are you about to murder me, Teddy Baker?’ I asked. Bob and Teddy Baker looked at each other, then towards me and laughed their cocks off, both swinging in my direction.
‘No, dude. We’re not going to murder you.’
‘Coulda did that in the bar,’ man of few words, Bob, said.
‘Tonight you join us in the fight for justice. We need numbers.’
‘You guys crime-fighters or something?’ I’ve read comics. I know the ruckus. They both nodded sheepishly, like they were ashamed of it. Crime-fighter Aziz, I think. Fuck it. I’ve been fighting crime since I was a youth. Might as well do it properly. I stripped down to my meat.
‘You can keep your boxers on if you want,’ Bob said. ‘Teddy here likes to swing free.’
‘Yeah,’ Teddy Baker said. ‘You haven’t lived life if you haven’t kicked a purse snatcher in the face with your big balls flying through the air.’
‘What if someone whacks you in the nuts?’ I asked. They both shrugged.
As I slipped my spandex costume over Big Aziz, I realised there was protective padding around the nuts. I was a bit unhappy cos my suit is mostly gold sequins. I looked like an Egyptian god.
‘What’s your handles?’ I asked.
‘Like what?’ Bob said. Dude was so aggressive.
‘Like your superhero names?’
‘This ain’t a comic book, buddy,’ Bob said. ‘I’m Bob. He’s Teddy. You’re ZZ.’
‘Aziz.’
‘Whatever.’
‘Yeah, dude,’ Teddy Baker said, coming back from the mirror in the bathroom. ‘We’re just fighting on the side of righteousness so we don’t hide behind any names.’
‘Oh, okay. Why is my costume so gold?’
‘That’s for our lady, Mika. She’s this Japanese student who studies Egyptology. That’s her suit.’
‘Where is she tonight? Dead? In the hospital?’
‘Nah, dude. Period pains. Women eh?’
For the record, #azizlovesallwomen. I ain’t down with all that subjugation talk.
My costume, made for a Japanese student, kinda groaned around the Aziz bulk. It was properly tight. Even with the protective padding, you could make out every vein and contour on Big Aziz, which was cool if purse snatchers were fit. But they were probably just idiots with beanie hats. Not my style.
Once we were suited up, Teddy passed round some camouflage paint to wear on our faces. ‘Aren’t I brown enough?’ I said. They both nodded.
‘Where you from?’ Bob asked, like it would be a problem whatever I said, unless I said the Good ol’ US of A.
‘I’m from England,’ I said.
‘I know where you live,’ he said. ‘But where you from?’
‘Oh. London.’
‘Not India. Taliban?’
‘Nah, mate. Hindu.’
‘So, Muslim.’
‘Fucking hell, you really don’t know the rest of the world, do you, chief?’
Bob stared at me hoping I’d explain the difference but I let it hang and turned to Teddy Baker.
‘You look Indian, Teddy. How come? Swarthy parents?’
Teddy Baker looked up and rushed towards me, trying to grab me by the neck but Aziz knows self-defence so I batted him away and put up my dukes.
‘No one asks about my parents,’ he said. ‘No one.’
‘Yeah, cool, man. No worries.’
What a strange and mysterious reaction. He’s got issues there. In the last 24 hours, though, I’d added him on Facebook and when he accepted me, I went through all his friends and family. He had his whole family listed there. His sisters Rita and Anita, and his mum wrote ‘lol x’ on every status he made and his dad worked for a hospital. The things you can find out online, eh? His mum’s name was Rupa and his dad’s name was Tim. I think I get it.
Now we were suited up, we all looked at ourselves in the mirror and despite the stinky atmosphere – not only was it awkward, but it smelt of dead cat faeces in this place – we all looked suitably bad-ass.
We headed out into the night.
And what adventures we had, dear reader. You have no fucking idea. Here’s a spoiler though: Bob remains a douchebag throughout.
There are 15 comments for this blog:
df325: Wow, Aziz, you are the coolest.
KJAYSAYYAY: Dude, this is amazing. I knew you were a superhero.
Gogo Girl 322: Aziz, What DId You Guys Do?
AZIZWILLKILLYOU: @Gogo Girl 322: patience my Padawan apprentice
GerryMander: Fuck you, this is bullshit. I was with you till that superhero bullshit.
GustaveGrime: Exactly. It’s just all bullshit. No way this happened. This guy is a fraud.
GerryMander: Why are we reading this?
GustaveGrime: I’m keeping a Tumblr documenting the death of the internet. And this is one of my case studies. Bullshit people write to make their lives sound better. Fake blogs. Constantly updating people on a life you don’t lead. The pointlessness of our existence. Fucking hell, Aziz should kill himself.
AZIZWILLKILLYOU: Yo, Gustave, why don’t you go troll someone else. You know why? I WILL KILL YOU.
GustaveGrime: If this is an actual threat, I am reporting you to the authorities. Remember: I am a lawyer.
GerryMander: Chill Gustave, it’s not that bad.
AZIZWILLKILLYOU: All I know is, you love me too much to ever just let me get on with it. Why don’t you fuck off? You don’t have to read it.
GustaveGrime: But I do, mate. This is exactly the opposite of why the internet was invented. You are ruining our world. One blog at a time. There’s Wikileaks. There’s Guardian Comment Is Free. There’s NetMums. Then there’s you. Right at the bottom of the pile, trying to get everyone’s attention with your bullshit. If the world was just, I’d have this blog shut down in a second and you reported to the European Court of Human Rights for crimes against art.
AZIZWILLKILLYOU: aaaaaaand … blocked.
df325: I love the suspense. When’s the next one up?