Twin Peaks

Twin Peaks

Posted on December 17, 2020 at 11:59 pm by Cancer Jiles

“If I wanted to be told a story, I certainly wouldn’t have chosen you to tell it.” – Cancer Jiles, just now, about Teddy Palmer’s Road to Perdition.





“Hello you wonderful bastards. Let’s get right to it, shall we?”

Rhetorical pause.

“So, there I was waiting for another pebble to be cast into the pond I pissed in. I waited some more. And I waited some more. And I waited some more. Then, one by one you all started to dip your toes in. It was quite the ride, watching and learning and listening to your redemptive wind songs.”

I rub my hands together to keep them warm, as if a fire was burning before me.

“There was Hannibal riding in on a one pony sleigh. I won’t lie. I found the whole thing… (lightblew)festive(/lightblew). Also, not to throw shade– is it weird I still don’t know if old Hannibal is a man or a woman? Like, I think he’s a man. But, then again… Oh well. I’ve smoked a lot of pot in my day so I’m not one to play judge.”


On both accounts.

I chuckle at the cheapness of my pop.


“As if the suspense of the seven person Battle Royal to name your own Group in the upcoming, will be widely lauded, Denucci Cup wasn’t enough, I tell ya! Boy, oh, BOY. It’s only going to get kicked up a notch when I find out if Santa Clause has a beard on his face, or a beard on her…”

I stop myself to smile.


Also, I remember that Mom is probably watching.

“Anyway, so yeah. Max’s son is undefeated.”

A pause.

“Incase none of you have heard.”

GET. It.

“Figured I give the whippersnapper a rub being he’s new to this and all and has an inescapable shadow that’s going to be following him around for the rest of his career.”

RIP Max Shell.

“It’s the least I could do.”

All ready tired, I rub my hand against my face to jog my memory.

“Oh. Right. Then there was Zeb drinking his first beer. It was quite the belch, if I don’t say so myself. I was proud of the former Bandit upstart. I thought maybe even a hair sprouted from him chest.”

Impressed with such a feat, I nod my head diligently.

“On a more personal note, Zeb, please tell Bobby the next time you see him that’s he’s dead to me. I don’t care. DEAD. Also, well played you savant. Best of luck.”

I don’t mean it, no matter how shiny my smile is.

“I think Zion manned up, and good for him. At least it makes this easier, knowing full well in advance that I stand absolutely no chance at all. Thanks, pal. You rotten, soulless, pig of a man. I hope your happy with what you’ve done. Dooming me. Dooming the Cup. I swear on everything I have ever done. IF, IF, IF we are in the same group which you happened to have named– so help me god I’ll shave my fucking head Lee Best bald before the start of the cup. PROMISE, no crossies.”

Of course I hold my hands up to show I ain’t kidding around.

“Fucking Zionite. Unbelievable.”

Astonished, I forget all about Hollywood and go right the finish.

“And then there was Teddy taking us through Laura Palmer’s missing diary. I can’t wait to see who Bob is.”