Disclaimer: I cannot be held responsible if you find the content of this composition offensive. Actually, I probably could, but I will not go quietly.
My friends Callee, Garth, Zoe and myself passed this place of worship in the back streets of Laverton. To say Laverton is the toilet of Melbourne would be cruel and unjust. It’s more the half flush button on the toilet. And that toilet is in a stinky old service station. A servo in Laverton. Anyway, upon realisation of their unfortunate choice of words, I performed a textbook full throttle burn out u-turn and parked on the front lawn. On the count of three, say Cheese-us!
Never mind the fact that at least three of us are apathetic non intrusive atheists, we were also on our way to an all girl pro-wrestling show in which Zoe & Callee would actually be tearing other girls to shreds. Love thy fellow man? Well it doesn’t apply when it’s no men and all women!
The epic clash of the gash (I cannot believe I just wrote that) was enthusiastically accompanied by Garth and me cheering raucously with all the vigour, jubilation and mindless violence mongering to rival that of barbaric pagan warriors of old. And the canteen sold hotdogs… which was… you know… awesome.
The show was fascinating, although I’ve been to a few events like this now and knew the sort of antics to expect. What I didn’t expect to see that night was a full moon… in a skirt. Oh dear merciless Christ she was horrid. Probably a nice girl. But I’ll never know. Now, one would think if you had an ass like that, you would do your best to conceal it. Like when a family has an ugly child, they grow his hair over his face, encourage an interest in wide brimmed hats and teach it to walk only in the shadows. They do not shine a great big bloody spotlight on the fugly thing and have flashing neon signs and a 12 piece choir all drawing attention to it. It was like the skirt was alive and was doing it’s very best to stay away from her dreadful rump. It literally stayed up, defying gravity, for her entire match. It looked like a fat lampshade yawning. Jesus Christ I’m an asshole sometimes. But if she’s going to parade around like that, she’s simply advertising a hearty heckling.
Now, please bow your head and drop your pants in prayer.
Our Father, who aren’t in Laverton, Shallow be Hal’s name Thy’s favourite word is come and thy will be done, in a gym sock as it is in Laverton. Give us this day our daily porn. And forgive them their scripts, As we forgive those who hold it against us. And lead us straight into temptation, and deliver us the evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the FIRE!, and the gloryhole, for ever and ever.
Amen
My friends Callee, Garth, Zoe and myself passed this place of worship in the back streets of Laverton. To say Laverton is the toilet of Melbourne would be cruel and unjust. It’s more the half flush button on the toilet. And that toilet is in a stinky old service station. A servo in Laverton. Anyway, upon realisation of their unfortunate choice of words, I performed a textbook full throttle burn out u-turn and parked on the front lawn. On the count of three, say Cheese-us!
Never mind the fact that at least three of us are apathetic non intrusive atheists, we were also on our way to an all girl pro-wrestling show in which Zoe & Callee would actually be tearing other girls to shreds. Love thy fellow man? Well it doesn’t apply when it’s no men and all women!
The epic clash of the gash (I cannot believe I just wrote that) was enthusiastically accompanied by Garth and me cheering raucously with all the vigour, jubilation and mindless violence mongering to rival that of barbaric pagan warriors of old. And the canteen sold hotdogs… which was… you know… awesome.
The show was fascinating, although I’ve been to a few events like this now and knew the sort of antics to expect. What I didn’t expect to see that night was a full moon… in a skirt. Oh dear merciless Christ she was horrid. Probably a nice girl. But I’ll never know. Now, one would think if you had an ass like that, you would do your best to conceal it. Like when a family has an ugly child, they grow his hair over his face, encourage an interest in wide brimmed hats and teach it to walk only in the shadows. They do not shine a great big bloody spotlight on the fugly thing and have flashing neon signs and a 12 piece choir all drawing attention to it. It was like the skirt was alive and was doing it’s very best to stay away from her dreadful rump. It literally stayed up, defying gravity, for her entire match. It looked like a fat lampshade yawning. Jesus Christ I’m an asshole sometimes. But if she’s going to parade around like that, she’s simply advertising a hearty heckling.
Now, please bow your head and drop your pants in prayer.
Our Father, who aren’t in Laverton, Shallow be Hal’s name Thy’s favourite word is come and thy will be done, in a gym sock as it is in Laverton. Give us this day our daily porn. And forgive them their scripts, As we forgive those who hold it against us. And lead us straight into temptation, and deliver us the evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the FIRE!, and the gloryhole, for ever and ever.
Amen
Fucking love that photo. And the line 'epic clash of the gash' has made life worth living until at least such time as it is beaten.
ReplyDeleteWhich is never.
Gold :P
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