Flaming bag of poo!
My mother recommended the Stephanie Plum mysteries to me, and I was just reading "Hot Six" i'm up to the point where she disables the locomotive powers of some wiseguys by lighting a bag of poo under their car. Of course, as in such mysteries, when that sort of thing happens- the plan goes awry. Well, instead of just getting doggy doo on their nice knock-off Italian loafers, the wiseguys end up with their car on fire.
Hence the mad cackling on my part. My sister's Lab, Hershey, decided to join in on the fun- he began to bark and jump around like a demented brown kangaroo. Which leads me to thank whatever gods there be that my family, while seriously screwed up, have never felt called upon to deliver someone a flaming bag of poo. I'm also down on my knees that those self-same deities that no one has suggested it to my brother... because he is the sort who would do such a thing...
However, there are a few people to whom I would not mind delivering a fresh batch of Hershey fudge en flambe. But then, most people probably have a sincere desire to see certain others stamp on flame-broiled dog shit. Insurance agents, lawyers, politicians,telemarketers, used car salesmen, the list is endless. Therefore, pranksters and disenfranchised of the world unite! Words, wars and weapons of mass destruction have proved fruitless. All we need is a pile of dog turds, a brown paper bag and a match to get our point across! This is the land of the free and the home of the brave! And nothing is more brave than waiting for your poodle, Lab or rottweiler to do the number 2, and stick in a bag and light it.
In case this should be read by the dumb-fucks at homeland security (who can't seem to do anything right lately): this is merely a humorous literary exercise, and I cannot be held responsible if there are any rashes of FBP to any person or persons in the above-named profession or professions. But if there are any rashes, then that means something in those above-named profession or professions stinks. And I am not referring to the defections of canines.
Hence the mad cackling on my part. My sister's Lab, Hershey, decided to join in on the fun- he began to bark and jump around like a demented brown kangaroo. Which leads me to thank whatever gods there be that my family, while seriously screwed up, have never felt called upon to deliver someone a flaming bag of poo. I'm also down on my knees that those self-same deities that no one has suggested it to my brother... because he is the sort who would do such a thing...
However, there are a few people to whom I would not mind delivering a fresh batch of Hershey fudge en flambe. But then, most people probably have a sincere desire to see certain others stamp on flame-broiled dog shit. Insurance agents, lawyers, politicians,telemarketers, used car salesmen, the list is endless. Therefore, pranksters and disenfranchised of the world unite! Words, wars and weapons of mass destruction have proved fruitless. All we need is a pile of dog turds, a brown paper bag and a match to get our point across! This is the land of the free and the home of the brave! And nothing is more brave than waiting for your poodle, Lab or rottweiler to do the number 2, and stick in a bag and light it.
In case this should be read by the dumb-fucks at homeland security (who can't seem to do anything right lately): this is merely a humorous literary exercise, and I cannot be held responsible if there are any rashes of FBP to any person or persons in the above-named profession or professions. But if there are any rashes, then that means something in those above-named profession or professions stinks. And I am not referring to the defections of canines.