The Old Lady

A fucking short story


A while ago, I noticed a little old lady sitting in a stairwell. She didn't bother anyone necessarily. She'd just sit there, basking in her pained-expression... caressing her dirty left foot... flicking various unwanted toe-crack related materials onto the ground. Obviously we never spoke. I would just climb over her, clutching my belongings, staring intensely at some ambiguous point ahead. Till one day she strategically placed her slipper on the stair, so that I fell, and ruptured several crucial tendons in my ankles, rendering me completely immobile and disgustingly desperate. These days we chill-out on the stairs together, massaging each others feet and screeching harmoniously at passers-by...completely content in our gauntlet of judgement.

Identifying a Sensitive New Age Troll

Some are self-explanatory.

Please braid my hair 

Some will wipe their sludge all over you, dare you try and escape.

Ragh?

Others will trap you in their labyrinth of fragility. Frequently throwing razor-blade parties and drafting suicide notes amidst a sea of bleeding, like-minded Sensitive New Age Troll pity-pals.

I want to violently weep on your chest when we make love, Lauren. 

New Amusement Park Ride Labelled Sponsored Slaughter

                                                  



COLOURED-CATASTROPHY CENTRAL-- Disney's newest roller coaster, Sponsored Slaughter, opened this spring, following extensive research done by the Morgues Are Fun Association. 


Spokesperson for the association, Sherry Tyler, reported "The majority of amusement park goers just want to plummet to their death. Last year, 67,000 people died here. Typically you'd think that'd deter your average person from getting on board...but what we found was quite the opposite. In fact, we've been operating Sponsored Slaughter around the clock. Mainly for the parents wanting to gently shove their entire families onto the ride".


Maintenance man, James Stewart, added "I breeds the cats that live in the gears. Grrrrrrrr".


Wet 'N Wild are said to be designing a rapid drowning ride to compete.
     

Fake-Tanned Chicks Gone WILD

Census Report Nation's Singles All Middle-Aged Souls

THIS CRUEL WORLD-- The 2011 Census, conducted nationwide a month ago, revealed that whilst both Australia's "old" and "young souls" were married, or in a serious relationship, middle-aged souls were all still single, boring, and basking in their despair.


Reincarnation Therapist, Dr. Caesar Pythagoras Morpheus said, "People naturally gravitate towards older souls. Their silent complexity is terribly hypnotic...like a fine wine you'd drink and pretend to understand. Young souls, on the other hand, attract mates with their radiating positivity. They're just like a walking anti-depressant...constantly smiling about retarded things like oozing jam and steaming compost heaps. Then we're left with the middle-aged souls who float somewhere in-between. Neither fun or wise. They basically possess all the personality of a badminton shuttlecock. Yeah, they don't even want to date each other. It's really quite sad".


Middle-aged soul, Simon, said something entirely too mediocre to take note of.


The Australian Government suggested middle-aged souls engage in risky behaviour, like running with scissors, to speed up the process.

Retro Word of the Day

Festy: (a.) Bad, disgusting, undesirable, revolting. Backconstruction from verb "fester".




"MAN, your eyebrow acne is festy"

The Tooth Fairy

A short story


One tantalisingly cold night, I awoke from my sleep, only to find the Tooth Fairy digging her petrified, thousand year old, unkempt claws into my gums. "WAUGH DA FAULLK", I exclaimed, as she jammed my mouth open with a jack...frequently chuckling and stabbing me up the nostril with the tip of her magical, theft-driven wing. Disorientated and slightly brain damaged, I commando rolled off my bed, in search of a housemate, a robust man, or an exceedingly ugly pet. To my dismay, the Tooth Fairy was already ten flaps ahead of me...hovering at the end of the hall, licking her fangs and swinging my severed, nerve-endings around the top of her head, like a lasso. "I GERKVV UP", I said, choking on the ramifications. And with that, she just made a high pitch buzzing sound...pegged an obligatory, glittered dollar at my temple, and flew away. Which obviously made it all worthwhile. So I returned back to bed, clutching my dollar, and fell asleep in a blood-stained, linen sea...totally and utterly satisfied. 

Good friends, Pterodactyls, dreams coming true.

Recently, a good friend of mine said if she could be anything, it'd be a pterodactyl...so she could soar through the sky, and poop all over everyone below. I thought this was pretty funny, personally.

Filed under:  Pterodactyls:     true story:     her decision is both crazy and completely rational:         wiggidy-whack:      why don't these tags work

Restaurant's Resident Creeper Finds Self-Esteem in Deep-Fried Plate of Goo

Bromance Weekly