My father Max (Thor) is a senile old fart. "She giggles and pulls her top down to cover her orifice" he says. Pox-ridden syphylitic moron. What happened? Grandpa drop you on the head when you were a baby? You are a blithering blathering blubbering baboon. A filthy lousy misshapen swine. You idiot, the belly-button is not an orifice. I know this. And when I say "I know this" I speak from experience. And what do you know about sluts, you limp prick? That walking stick of yours is no less than the essense of your manhood, ain't it. Your sanctum sanctorum. You brandish it. Wave it around. Bang it on the floor. No wonder. In the sneaky twisted depths of that infantile imagination of yours it's the only way you can visualise an erection, isn't it. Poor sod. If you weren't so abominably ugly I'd kill you and put you out of my misery. You vomitous mass. Luckily for you I don't harm women, children, the weak, and the ugly.
Now I'm not saying that any of this is unnatural. It isn't. Just ask any wheezing old geezer above the age of 60 and they'll tell you how difficult things are when the spirit is willing, but the flesh weak. Hahaha. Twit.
Speaking of family, my older brother Teddy (Ben) has just come home. Fancy that. I walk out of my room and there he is, just standing there in the living room, like he owns the place or something. Wanker. Who the blazes does this shrivelled up little fart think he is? Goes off for God knows how long and turns up in the middle of the night expecting a place to stay. Doctor of Philosophy my left buttock! That bugger won't know an Aristotelian syllogism if it crawled up his arse and died there.
I note that some of you have taken a fancy to my younger brother Joey (Ian). What is it with you people? Leave you alone for five minutes and you breed like rabbits. Think he can scratch your itch, do you? Think he can put a smile to that stinking leprous face of yours, do you? Think you want to eat him up, do you? Well, wake up children. No such thing as a free lunch. You have what it takes, and I'm talking four figures, then maybe we'll do business. Otherwise go fly a kite.
1 Comments:
Tripped and fell over this at Patrick's blog.
Am waiting for opening night with bated breath.
Break a leg (hopefully somebody else's)! =)
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