THE BIRTH OF KROJO AND THE DEATH OF THE EARTH; a Mojo-love story

THE BIRTH OF KROJO AND THE DEATH OF THE EARTH; a Mojo-love story

I’d been living in Belfast in two separate millennia and I was getting fed up with the vast cornucopia of cunts that I would continually encounter. I went to a party around the time and I was innocently chatting to a girl and some guy started shouting at me for no reason.

“Who the fuck are you? Get the fuck out of my house!” He shouted.

You’re a cunt, I thought. I worked hard all week and my weekends were getting progressively more shit. What was going wrong? I had hit a break wall.

I had broken up with a girl I had being going out with on and off for a year and I faced a world of early morning pre-work despair and pathetic Belfast religious humour.

It was the start of the Mojo Destruction Years. No more Mister Nice Mojo I thought. It was at this time I started to pound the world relentlessly. I felt like Michael Jackson during the recording of “Off the wall”. I was reinventing dance music. Quincy Jones wept with delight at my daily contributions. My friends could only stand back and disapprove. “Burn this Disco Out” was my mantra.

“Mojo, are you ok? What’s wrong? Why did you just projectile vomit over that dog? Are you ok Mojo?” My friends would say.
“Fuck you. I’m fine. I’m fucking fine. That dog’s a wanker. He never stops barking.” I’d say.

I felt lonely. I had lots of friends but I was changing into Teen Wolf and nobody understood me anymore. And that was the hardest thing to take. I wanted to listen to a Mariah carey remix whilst shitting off my balcony. Whereas previously I’d be more than happy to sit in with a Douglas Coupland novel listening to “grace” by Jeff Buckley. And my friends would joke and say “ For fuck sake Mojo, Mariah Carey?”

“What about ‘Heartbreaker’? How can you just dismiss the masterpiece that is ‘Heartbreaker?’ ” I yelped.

Then one night, everything changed.

I stood lost at the bar in Whites Tavern, a popular squashed bar/nightclub facility in the centre of Belfast. I went down early to get a seat. I was alone. The place was empty but soon I knew it would be packed to a level that would be potentially life threatening. Behind me I could hear a loud voice incoherently extol the virtues of Stephen Patrick Morrissey’s solo career. Then laughter, I could hear lots of laughter. I turned around and there was only one other person at the bar. He wore a cravat and a green velvet jacket. I was wearing my black velvet jacket. He was my face. He had abandon in his eyes and danger in his smile. I knew right away that he definitely wasn’t a cunt. He was a destroyer like me. That fact was undeniable. He grinned like a Caucasian chuck berry and said

“I’m the Kryst.”

Kryst + Mojo = Krojo. Neither of us knew at this moment that this was the birth of Krojo Corp and also bizarrely, what would eventually lead to the death of the Earth. I smiled like a heterosexual Caucasian Little Richard. We took that Saturday night and held it up against the wall by the neck and taught it a lesson. Women screamed with delight beneath us as we done what we done best. We danced, we laughed and we loved women. The crowds gathered around the original Krojo duo in what seemed like minutes. It was a harrowingly beautiful beginning. Little hotties were spinning plates on long wooden sticks. They hung on our every word. They watched us dance with disbelief. We were other-worldly. The dream team had come to Whites Tavern and no woman could resist Krojo Corp. Separately we were unstoppable love machines. But together we were The Earth Shattering Emperors of Super Deluxe Bonus Mega Love Unlimited.

I remember the night. The moment was what mattered. To love is a constant fight. There were cunts everywhere that night. We were threatened by cunts but we persevered and love won out in the end. We met girls and made dreams come true. It was what scientists and historians in the distant future would refer to as the “Fun tremor” that would eventually lead to “The Great Love Earthquake” that would bring humanity crashing to its knees. The future glistened like a disfigured mirror ball. It was beautiful chaos. Belfast was set alight.

To be continued.

MOJO