Larry and Mick do Yoga to Nine Inch Nails

'And... bre-e-eath...' said Mick, as Trent Reznor went on about God and Hate and nothing-can-stop-me-now and such gubbins.
Larry breathed, twisted round his leg and stuck his foot behind his head, but he was less than convinced about the context of his Cosmic Awakening.
'Mick?' said Larry.
'Yes, Larry?' said Mick.
'Remind me again why we're doing yoga to Nine Inch Nails...'
'Well,' said Mick, as he dislocated his left elbow, folded his arm behind his back, reached round and grasped his right nipple; 'it's a test,' he continued, as he did the same with his right elbow/arm/left nipple, 'of your Spiritual Commitment.'
Larry made several failed attempts to insert an earlobe between his toes. 'But it is difficult to feel At One With the Essence of All That Is and Ever Will Be,' said Larry, 'when some bloke is banging on about Death, S&M and The Meaninglessness Of It All to an Industro-Metal soundtrack.'
Mick appeared to flick himself inside out, such that his arse was on his chin and his limbs were arranged into some kind of nautical knot. 'Place your soul inside a bubble, Larry,' said he; 'disconnect from all external stimuli...'
Larry attempted to replicate the flicky/inside-out-y/arsey-chinny/nautical-knotty move that Mick had just done. Something snapped. Larry yelped. He rolled forward and banged his head on the XBox 360. He was rendered unconscious.
'Oops,' said Mick and called 999.

* * *

'May I make a suggestion?' said Larry, as he sat up in the hospital bed and Mick fed him yoghurt-coated raisins.
'What would that be, friend Larry,' said Mick.
'Could we perhaps next time try Whale Song or Enya or - what the hell - Greatest Boyband Ballads 2005?'
'Maybe you're right,' said Mick; 'maybe Nine Inch Nails was a bit much' - he rooted around in his satchel - 'so I thought next time we could try this!' - he pulled out a CD and plonked it on the bed:
Death Metal Classics, it said.
Larry started to wonder why he was friends with Mick.

[ fin ]