Essy never came back to work. Neither did Jonah. Bartenders with black eyes and busted lips don't get tips.
The following song is excellent, and essential to the tale I am telling you. Please, Transplants, put up an official video of this song so we can give you proper props.
--------------------------------
“Himmy. You fucker.”
"Que pasa Jefe?!"
"You told Jonah the Bartender, didn't you."
“Me lo siento, mi hermano! Hahaha! I’m sorry! But you did not say it was a secret!”
“Why would I need to say that? Dude. You fucked everything up!”
“No, No. You fucked her. She's a co-worker, man. You shit where you eat. You then sang like a leetle bird at the top of his lungs! You are the one who fucked everything up for yourself. Pinche cabron.”
"Shut up, bitch."
----------------------------
"Weeee-ill. Duuuude."
"Fuck Joey, never seen you so bummed man. Come on inside. Everyone's gone off to bed, so be quiet. Becoming a daddy not treating you so good?"
"Don't remind me Weeee-ill. Ughhhhhhh."
"You guys sure about it? I mean, sure it's gonna happen?"
"Yup. You know me. Went out and bought ten of those kits they sell. Then had the free clinic do it as well, when her appointment came up. All signs point to Poppa Joe."
"Ffffffuuuuuuuuuck."
"Ughhhhhhhhhhhh."
"Well, Joe, maybe you'll get to visit them in Germany."
"Man, I don't want her to take my baby over there!"
"She could apply for a visa or someshit."
"What she need with a credit card? Anyways, she ain't even told her parents yet."
"Have you told yours?"
"Fuck that! I haven't even told myself yet..."
"Oh. Huh."
-------------------------------
Good evening, this is Trish Tocker for KFUK-TV, and we have some really tubular developments in the Fig Tree Massacre. The fire marshal has determined that the cause of the fire was indeed allegedly intentional, and that the burned body allegedly stuck to the burnt decking with an allegedly really big knife may have been allegedly trying to stop the arsonist.
I guess we have a hero, ladies and gentlemen. Memorial services for young Martin Lander will be held next Sunday at noon allegedly at the United Methodist Church up in Clovis, where the rich farmers allegedly live.
Evidently, from me walking around the site behind the taped off area, the force of the explosion was so great that it allegedly blew a Jeep onto a fig tree. I'd show you a picture of it, but a cute police escort showed up and took my film from me and then guided me back to my car.
Police are remaining quiet about the space robot with the laser beam and purple mohawk and white X's of hate on his face.
Back to you in the studio!
-------------------------------
"Hello? This is Will. May I speak to Katheena?"
"Certainly. Hold on for a sec. Katheena! Phone! How are you doing Will?"
"Not bad, sir. Thanks."
"That's nice. Here she is."
"Hey Katheena. How're you and Ivan doing?"
"Hi Will. As well as can be expected. How's your head?"
"It was the best ever, but now it's gone."
"Um, what?"
"Oh, I mean that the cut on the top of my head is healing well."
"Good to hear. Yup, the German kids are going back next week. It was kinda uncertain at one point because of the plane crash. Hell, they wanted to ship these kids back home on different boats because the parents didn't trust the air crafts anymore. Still, those Germans don't want to send them all back on the same plane now. At least Ivan and I have had the extra time together why they work it out."
"Cool for you. Gonna miss him a lot, I guess, huh."
"That's really sweet of you, Will. Me too."
"Hah? No! I was talking about you!"
"Oh. Hehehe. Sorry. I thought you had finally warmed up to Ivan."
"I'd like to warm him up in a fire."
"What's that?"
"I mean, I hope he has a safe flight. Ya know."
"Me too, Will. Me Too."
-------------------------
In this Aftermath, you should know something, and here I will tell you. It's a bit of a secret.
In revealing this secret, it is also the precursor to the next part of the tale.
This is about the Violin and the Violinist.
God Help You.
Glinda helped me forget about a certain girl who had rocked my own little world and who had captained me to the Moon. Glinda was a glider. She knew about gliding.
This is not about hand gliding. This about the theory of superstrings. This is about playing strings in a way that can make music like you’ve never heard nor felt before.
A woman can be played like a violin, you see.
You will see. Tomorrow.
++++++++++++++++++++++
LINKS
World’s most powerful rocket.
Creepy chick Boxxy, in a blonde wig. Huh.
Robocop killerbot Ed 209 vs. Rocky.
6 Best conjoined twins in history. Vlogbros.
The next time.
Mummy face cloud.
The Outside Joke site. Hmmm…
Here’s UGO, a site with a lot of flashy ads and shit. TV Celebrity Cameos that are short, sweet, and unexpected, like your lady says about your penis.
Sorry about that.
This site has none of that shit. But simply all about cat fights at Denny’s. Hey, who doesn’t like a good Grand Slam on the way back home from the pubs and bars?
Cool site. Cult movie maker wants movie pirates to help him out. Interesting idea. Free content, because it’s from the fans?
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
OK, One more for ya. NSFW because of the links and ads.
Or, a song in the opposite direction, for my own leetle birds, my ladies in my house. Whatever you do, enjoy yourself, and see you tomorrow.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment