The Utter Bastard, James Webb

The Utter Bastard, James Webb

Mrs Jones cowered in fear
As she saw the chaos in the parlour
she assumed a pale pallor
As she smelt her employer's beer
Telescopy abandoned in flurry of pie
and cigarette ash

Wrath walked the observatory
Moonlight shone through broken glass
On one word
The word of Hubble
scrawled 'mid lenses turned ashtrays
and signs o' rage.
The word of Hubble
Cut into solid brick
with fingers made bold
with hatred for James Webb

The word was Webb
And that spelt trouble

With some different letters and some imagination

The doughty cleaner searched for her employer
She knew him well
She searched high and low
And hoped like hell
That he got drunk and went out gambling
And not punching James Webb in the chops
She looked under everything
Except for small things
For he was quite plump now.

It was a disappointingly light and calm night as the grizzled and sodden astronomer stalked his hated prey. It wasn't even a full or no moon, much less something really good like a blood moon. It was just there.

The bastard!

He thought.

He might have said it too, although after this much to drink it was hard to say.

He was going to kill him though.

A cat sat happily dozing
An angry astonomer does pass
Wishing atmospheric noise
He kicks it in the ass

The screaming yowl of some demented hell fiend rent night's dark curtain asunder with it's sonic fury.
This was more like it.

It was a semi-dark night
And a fairly well illuminated man
Raged and sought a fight
It was a semi-dark night
And a shadowed young man
Fumbled to undo a bra

Rooftop: James Webb flagrento delecto with an older woman

Oh James!
The view is sheer grandiure
Work your manly fingers
Upon my beige brassieure

A stinking, garbage strewn alley

The predator stalks
Fire escape
Rusted metal
Clanging

Like the music from The Terminator

He climbs the rusted hell

Not so innocent couple

No idea

Metal creaks, iron clanging
The rage in his heart
A woman sighs
The bastard Webb will pay

Groping, feeling, passion, rising
Bloody bra still won't go!
Rising shape
"Oh James, darling do you want a hand
Darkness incarnate
My boobs are getting sore"
Vengence incarnate

The darkness rises and James Webb sees it
He looks hell in the eye
Hand falls away from bra strap

Impasse at Armageddon

James Webb stands and faces Edwin Hubble as cold wind howls around the lonely rooftop.

Fists clench.

A mouth contorts with sheer hatred and a woman cowers in shame.

Edwin Hubble has planned this. He begins to speak and his words are scorching hellfire.

"Get out of the way of my goddamn telescope, Webb you worthless loafer!"