Dear Disgusting Train Traveller,
Have you ever had a toilet scrub shoved up your nose while it's still wet; you can actually feel the bowl juice run down your face.Well, I would hardly call it juice but then again, I do not know where your tastes lie.
Yes, I agree that it is quite an horrendous experience; scares me shitless, if you will.But still, have you ever had such an experience?
No?
Are you quite certain?
If you still insist that you haven't had such an experience, I guess I will have to take you for what it's worth, which isn't much.But I will have to ask you to desist from trying to force on me a crash course in scrubonomics.
What am I referring to, you ask.
What I am referring to, sir, is the overgrown piece of jungle weed that you call hair.It's bad enough to walk around with a style which has been out of fashion since it was first seen in Edward Scissorhands but what makes it worse is the fact that you find it necessary to use all of Iraq's oil reserves to supplicate it's growth.
While I agree that ours is a free country and that we value the freedom to expression but when your feifdom of expression begins to crawl all over my face, I have to put my foot down.You see, while you were dozing away to glory, your little minions of antichrist began a pre-emptive strike into my nasal airspace.Not only did they nearly choke me but they also left launched chemical warfare by leeching out a little of your foul smelling oil.
I almost overlooked this but when you slumped over me and started dribble out saliva like a cretin, I had to slap you out off your sleep.
Yes, it wasn't a crack of lightening you heard.
What I'm saying is that perhaps, just perhaps, it maybe time to shear off your dreadlocks.
And maybe think of a pacifier.
Yes, I agree that it is quite an horrendous experience; scares me shitless, if you will.But still, have you ever had such an experience?
No?
Are you quite certain?
If you still insist that you haven't had such an experience, I guess I will have to take you for what it's worth, which isn't much.But I will have to ask you to desist from trying to force on me a crash course in scrubonomics.
What am I referring to, you ask.
What I am referring to, sir, is the overgrown piece of jungle weed that you call hair.It's bad enough to walk around with a style which has been out of fashion since it was first seen in Edward Scissorhands but what makes it worse is the fact that you find it necessary to use all of Iraq's oil reserves to supplicate it's growth.
While I agree that ours is a free country and that we value the freedom to expression but when your feifdom of expression begins to crawl all over my face, I have to put my foot down.You see, while you were dozing away to glory, your little minions of antichrist began a pre-emptive strike into my nasal airspace.Not only did they nearly choke me but they also left launched chemical warfare by leeching out a little of your foul smelling oil.
I almost overlooked this but when you slumped over me and started dribble out saliva like a cretin, I had to slap you out off your sleep.
Yes, it wasn't a crack of lightening you heard.
What I'm saying is that perhaps, just perhaps, it maybe time to shear off your dreadlocks.
And maybe think of a pacifier.
This entry was posted
on Tuesday, May 03, 2005 at 11:08 AM.
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