The best of Lardcore, Volume Two

These three pictures are from two separate tramps on and around Mount Fyffe in Kaikoura, New Zealand. The narratives that accompany each picture may not be 100% true, but then again you should never let the facts get in the way of a good story. That's what my old man always said. Of course, my generation is more direct, nowadays we say "Fuck you meat puppet, this shit is real, and if you can't handle the jandal then you can always take a flying fuck at a rolling dough nut."



Once upon a time a couple of weeks ago, we were busting ass in the jungle when we arrived at the Hapuku Hut. We were running low on ammo, and we knew the nazis were right on our asses. We were almost out of time when stephen had an idea ...

A few minutes later they came stomping around the corner to find us as you see above. Naturally they screamed. Firstly in terror, then in anger, then in confusion, but still we didnt move.

After a few minutes of them screaming and us doing nothing, a nazi cautiously approached us toting a knife the size of a helicopter blade and a boomstick the size of a small rocket ship. He tentatively poked me in the abdominal region and squeezed Stephens bicep, before turning back to his fellows, gushing with relief, "Its ok, they're just statues!"

A few minutes later, after many of the nazis had walked off into the bush to change their underpants, the party departed. Seconds later, our party arrived. Choppers landed, carrying pizza and beer and strippers as well as a portable dance floor and a do-it-yourself disco kit.





One weekend we were inflamed with bloodlust. We craved the thrill of the chase. We needed to take down the beast. We needed to prove ourselves. We needed to be MEN. Consequently, we went to Kaikoura to hunt cow.

We drove. On arrival, we sprinted to the top of a nearby mountain to survey the land. We looked out across the wilderness to find our prey, but there were none to be seen.

All of a sudden, we heard the sound of gunshot flatulence echo behind us, and we spun back toward the trail. The entire bovine population of Kaikoura stood not 20 meters behind us. Cripple turned to me and said words to the effect of "Good golly gosh! We have been gollyingly ambushed. Gosh it, we're gonna jolly goshing die!"

We assembled in battle formation (see above) and waited.

The silence stretched out.

Suddenly, the lead cow flapped her ears vigorously, passed gas from both ends, and urinated a terrifying waterfall. We trembled. Tim gulped. Matthew Price screamed like a little girl whose favourite carebear has just been stuffed in a blender.

Seconds passed. Matthew ran out of breath. The silenced stretched again.

Then, a few rows back from the front, a cow blinked rapidly, stood up, pointed a hoof at me, and rumbled: "WTF!? Hey, Mrs Fatslut [a cow clearly loved by her owner], isn't that the mother fucker who touched your baby inappropriately?!".

I turned to Cripple and said words to the effect of, "Holy jolly!, I just got goshing made!". In response he turned and sprinted away flapping his arms and screaming. The others followed suit, sprinting off in random directions. It seemed like an acceptable plan at the time.

The herd charged straight at me, and I bolted away from them, down the steepest, most rugged, face of the mountain. At some point I tripped and busted my face pretty good on a rock. I blacked out...

A few seconds later I awoke to see a cow rolling past me down the mountain. Then another, and another. Then hundreds of cows were rolling past, some sideways, some end-over-end. Sometimes they rolled heavily against the mountain, sometimes they got airborne and flailed about spastically. The air was filled with sporadic, highly confused mooing. I started laughing in triumph but quickly shut my mouth when a monstrously flabby beast sailed by directly overhead like some twisted take-off of Free Willy. Its humongous milkbag bounced and flopped about crazily. The cast of Baywatch would have been shamed.

At last all the cows collected at the bottom of the mountain in one giant heap of dead, pre-tenderized beef.

Having just completed the most successful cow hunt in history, we retired back to Christchurch feeling like true American heroes.





One weekend we were busting ass in the jungle when we spent the night in Kowhai Hut above. Next morning we went out front to take some photos — as is our tradition. We had the camera set up on the timer and were ready to take the most testosterone packed photo playgirl has ever seen. But just as we got in position, a bunch of zombies stumbled out of the jungle close by. We were just standing there in plain sight with nowhere to go when Matthew Price squawked, "quick fools! look like a bunch of psychotic flesh eating wackos and they'll walk right past us". Stephen responded "Shawt brew!" and we embraced the role with maximum vigour. It worked beautifully, we could easily have passed for deranged lunatics. But the zombies still tried to slaughter us and munch our guts.

As they approached, Stephen looked at me and said, "Screw this shite. Check this out niggas:". He hitched up his pants, stomped up to the closest zombie and busted it in the chops with his stick. Baseball style. Its jaw broke free and sailed off into the bush. A couple more wallops to the head and its brains were dribbling out nicely. It stumbled to its knees, mumbling about its mommy before Stephen rammed his stick through its eye and into its brain and stirred until the zombie stopped whinging.

Well that was all good and all, but there were plenty more where that one came from. Fortunately, Cripple had just graduated from ninja school the weekend before. As I watched, he launched into a flying bicycle kick, brutally pummeling a zombie in the chest over and over while simultaneously hacking its head off with his axe.

Then we all got into the spirit of things.

I kicked out a zombies legs and held it down while Matthew sawed its head off. Then we mounted its decapitated head on the end of my stick to form a makeshift bommie knocker which I subsequently used to beat the shit out of several more zombies.

While this was happening, Tim used the other axe to cleave the skull of a nearby zombie, splattering its brains on the ground. Bending down, he scooped up said brains and flung them in the eyes of the next zombie, which never even knew it was being decapitated until it was too late. One devious zombie snuck up behind him and opened its pie hole to bite. But just before it did, Stephen jammed a severed foot into its mouth rendering it completely harmless.

I noticed Stephen and Matthew working together for a time. Stephen would tease a zombie, offering his arm to it, but withdrawing it just before he could be bitten. Meanwhile Matthew would stand behind them quietly sawing their head off.

When all of the undead were unundead, we hacked off their limbs and spit roasted them (on the fire that is) and ate THEM for breakfast.

Now children, that is why you should always do your homework. Then you will always know who you are fucking with.