User:Craig Nixon
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Craig Nixon (b. 1975) is a well known English playboy. Previous conquests include fighting 6 women at a modelling show and managing to eat a boxing glove made of lead to win a bet.
Craig is perhaps most well known for his series of expolits called 'The Anthology of Craig' of which he manages to explore the inner workings of what Nietsche called 'the blackest soul'.
Below are a selection of writings from the anthology.
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"I am the kingmaker!" Shouted Craig at the growing throng appearing beneath the balcony.
"This company has been bleeding red ink for what seems like eons and I am here to remedy this!" and with that he stepped out onto the railing and motioned to jump. From within the crowd a slightly bookish man in jeans and a black turtleneck pressed a small button in his Jordan V's and he began to levitate towards Craig. The crush of people parted and a hushed reverence grew.
Craig knew what this meant.
Under his breath he invoked the words of the Lehman elders ("debentures") and shifted out into the empty space, the magic of the bank and the mystery of the markets holding him up. He gently coasted out into the middle of the room. There he came face to face with the turtlenecked man, both giants in their fields hovering above a party of peons and serfs when compared to them.
"Your reign has come to an end Craig." bellowed Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple.
"F*ck you Jobsy, your daughter deserved it. Tight b*tch."
_________________________
'Its almost all over for you! What are you going to do about it!?' shouted Craig. He was goading them, motioning for them to come to him.
He stared like a wildman into their collective eyes, breathing fire, spouting shame and owning their lives for the precious time they had left. They started to approach him.
His hands instinctively formed into a fist. The muscle memory pleasing him a little, but then the programming kicked in and his hand released. He had surprised himself.
He crouched down into position. They were on almost top of him now.
It was time.
'Look guys, huddle round. We have come so far in the muslim basketball championships and I want to take the trophy home huh?! Ganeesh, you are on point, Farhad, stay on your man goddammit. Ok now lets get out there and crush these slant eyed asian pr*cks. Goddamn chogies.'
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The frost bore heavily on Craigs brow. His determination was resolute but was his constitution up to the open-faced arrogance of this mountain?
Feet sunk heavily into the powdery snow, on rocks that have never seen light, below skies that have never seen sun. Each step weighing like an entire lifetime on him, he had to reach the summit. He needed to regain his soul.
Past the final crest which he truly felt to be his last, he saw the ancient doors he had read about, now rising up bright as if bathed in sunlight, seperate to this forgotten land in a place of their own, far from here.
His steps became lighter and a soft smile drew upon his face. He had made it.
After countless months and after blowing the entire Lehmans bonus, he had made it.
As he moved a weary arm up to the door, it swung open almost of its own accord. There, wrapped in a sash of fine silk as if to say to the weather ' I am not afraid of you' stood a small man.
'Stranger, why have you come to the doors of our mountatin stronghold?'
'I need to see the maharishi. I have come to say sorry for calling all you guys a pack of mu$*ie c*nts.'
'Step this way. We have been waiting for you Craig.'
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"Everywhere I go all I see are walking corpses."
Craig knew he was talking to no-one in particular but the feeling was brewing so deep inside of him the words came out of their own volition.
Ever since he broke the landspeed record last summer, the 5 minutes he spent in the neverspace region (as a result of inverting the time barrier) had opened his eyes to the true nature of man.
The prophecy of craig was laid out before him like a childrens playset. Irresistable to not play with. The only question he had been looking to answer would be 'when?'.
After 4 days of oiling his biceps and stoking his bald head the time was nigh. He removed his pants and stepped out onto the balcony.
Next up: "Oh god there is so much semen"
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"Relax Madam President. I think I can do this, in fact, with your trust in me I KNOW I can"
The president pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it in a quizzical fashion. Craig was displaying the kind of affected humility that you only found in the truly arrogant. But goddammit, now more than ever she needed him.
"And I am going to bring this baby to the ground just in time for supper. And I am HUNGRY baby so fire up your pretty little oven"
There was the craig she knew. She elicted a sigh of deepened relief. She was now sure that even though Craig was strapped to the side of a ballistic nuclear missile headed straight for Mount Everest, he would somehow be able to disarm the mechanism and save the mountain.
Next Up: A triumphant, naked Nix somehow lands the missile perfectly on the whitehouse lawn and proceeds to bone President Chappel in front of the press corps.
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He drew her flaxen hair back to reveal her flush cheeks. Warmed by the embrace of her lover, Gwendolyne felt whole, if not the slightest bit wicked.
This man, this holy man of the cloth, had now become her lover. Her resolute, nigh-matrimonial lover.
Thibault rippled at the knowledge he had broken her chastity and shattered his vows. Chaste now only in theory and by providence he was elemental in his desire and ever forward in his intentions.
It was a perfect moment, two people needing to connect despite the bounds of their worlds, despite all logic, hearts only, bodies purely.
Suddently Nix burst in, daks down and ready to party. "Jesus Baulty! Look at yr crank! Wooooo!"
Gwendolyne grimaced. It was going to be like that trip to Bunbury all over again.
