What do you give the man who has everything?...........
.......a kick to the bollocks. That'll teach the rich bastard.
Well the story telling hat has been brought down from it's trusty peg and so another story must be told, All names have been changed to protect the..... hell, the names have been changed purely for my amusement. I call this story:
The Ballad of the Snooker Cue
Keith had taken to wearing a patch over one eye. There was no reason for it. "There is a reason everything" he would reply when challenged, "And every dog shall have its day". What these hoary old clichés had to do with the eye patch and its wearing are unclear, although few could question the truth of these words. In fact, what Keith and his eye patch have to do with this story is unclear, as they will not be mentioned again.
No, our story deals, as always, with the adventures of a certain blonde haired, blue eyed young man. Our hero lies in bed reading, unaware that destiny is going to come a-knockin':
"Knock, knock" said the fist against the door, "Open, open" creaked the hinges.
"Destiny? Is that you?" enquired the young man.
"Don't be a tit” proclaimed the tartan pajama clad door opener, "Phone".
The tpcdo (think about it) then launched said article with what we could describe as vicious force. But we won't, because that would be a lie. As dexterous as he is modest, our wonderfully-excellent-uber-hero-who-is-rightly-worshipped-where-ever-he-goes-by-god-he's-great-women-want-to-shag-him-men-want-to-be-him-fucking-hell-he's-ace-don't-cha-just-love-him hero missed the phone and it landed just centimetres away from his future child manufacturing equipment. (I won't stoop to obvious penis gags. And trust me, when I stoop my penis is obvious.........eh?) While offering a silent prayer of thanks to the god of narrowly averted knacker damage our hero does the expected phone-answering type thing:
"Speak mortal"
"Don't be a pretentious twat."
"Good morning to you too."
"I'm having some trouble with a wireless router."
"What's the problem?"
"It's not fucking working!"
"Ah. I'll pop round later."
"Cheers."
The male protagonist of our story (oh yes! Chalk that one up!) rises and sets about readying himself for an outing. "I need a haircut,” he tells the mirror, who keeps it's only counsel. (Until our champion (make it two!) leaves the room. Then it replies, "Fucking right you long haired twat." (Mirrors eh? Can't trust em. And I've lost track of how many brackets are open. Just to be safe...))))) that'll do it.) (What was I saying?) Our hero strides, as is expected of heroes, around the road (at least someone was paying attention to the narrative). A swift chap on the door was answered swiftly by a chap.
"Where's this router then?"
"Beside the computer I think."
"I keep losing track of where I've put it."
"Well just have to follow all the wires to it then" (How we laughed)
"That bracket thing is getting really old you know."
"What?"
"Nothing"
"So the router is on the kitchen table."
"How did you know that? I didn’t tell you."
"Continuity error."
"Oh I see. Is that why I've closed this door three time but only opened it once?"
"Yep."
And so our hero used his finest bluffing skills poked about a bit and got the router working. A bit. On the walk home he saw a woman leave her house, turn around and shout back in the door "I'm away to do the shopping". (We'll gloss over the fact that he would have heard rather than seen that.) Getting no response the woman then left in a huff. Until she realised she'd fit more messages in a car so left in that instead. (huffs are notorious for their lack of boot space you see.) (Note to self: I think they get it, it's just not funny.)
True story. That's exactly how it happened.
No doubt there will be more posts like these* until I have:
a) The balls to post a proper short story
b) the ability write something decent
c) some originality. This ripped off Robert Rankin wholesale.
* Who groaned? Come on own up!
Hmm.....that serious post didn't materialize did it.....
Well the story telling hat has been brought down from it's trusty peg and so another story must be told, All names have been changed to protect the..... hell, the names have been changed purely for my amusement. I call this story:
The Ballad of the Snooker Cue
Keith had taken to wearing a patch over one eye. There was no reason for it. "There is a reason everything" he would reply when challenged, "And every dog shall have its day". What these hoary old clichés had to do with the eye patch and its wearing are unclear, although few could question the truth of these words. In fact, what Keith and his eye patch have to do with this story is unclear, as they will not be mentioned again.
No, our story deals, as always, with the adventures of a certain blonde haired, blue eyed young man. Our hero lies in bed reading, unaware that destiny is going to come a-knockin':
"Knock, knock" said the fist against the door, "Open, open" creaked the hinges.
"Destiny? Is that you?" enquired the young man.
"Don't be a tit” proclaimed the tartan pajama clad door opener, "Phone".
The tpcdo (think about it) then launched said article with what we could describe as vicious force. But we won't, because that would be a lie. As dexterous as he is modest, our wonderfully-excellent-uber-hero-who-is-rightly-worshipped-where-ever-he-goes-by-god-he's-great-women-want-to-shag-him-men-want-to-be-him-fucking-hell-he's-ace-don't-cha-just-love-him hero missed the phone and it landed just centimetres away from his future child manufacturing equipment. (I won't stoop to obvious penis gags. And trust me, when I stoop my penis is obvious.........eh?) While offering a silent prayer of thanks to the god of narrowly averted knacker damage our hero does the expected phone-answering type thing:
"Speak mortal"
"Don't be a pretentious twat."
"Good morning to you too."
"I'm having some trouble with a wireless router."
"What's the problem?"
"It's not fucking working!"
"Ah. I'll pop round later."
"Cheers."
The male protagonist of our story (oh yes! Chalk that one up!) rises and sets about readying himself for an outing. "I need a haircut,” he tells the mirror, who keeps it's only counsel. (Until our champion (make it two!) leaves the room. Then it replies, "Fucking right you long haired twat." (Mirrors eh? Can't trust em. And I've lost track of how many brackets are open. Just to be safe...))))) that'll do it.) (What was I saying?) Our hero strides, as is expected of heroes, around the road (at least someone was paying attention to the narrative). A swift chap on the door was answered swiftly by a chap.
"Where's this router then?"
"Beside the computer I think."
"I keep losing track of where I've put it."
"Well just have to follow all the wires to it then" (How we laughed)
"That bracket thing is getting really old you know."
"What?"
"Nothing"
"So the router is on the kitchen table."
"How did you know that? I didn’t tell you."
"Continuity error."
"Oh I see. Is that why I've closed this door three time but only opened it once?"
"Yep."
And so our hero used his finest bluffing skills poked about a bit and got the router working. A bit. On the walk home he saw a woman leave her house, turn around and shout back in the door "I'm away to do the shopping". (We'll gloss over the fact that he would have heard rather than seen that.) Getting no response the woman then left in a huff. Until she realised she'd fit more messages in a car so left in that instead. (huffs are notorious for their lack of boot space you see.) (Note to self: I think they get it, it's just not funny.)
True story. That's exactly how it happened.
No doubt there will be more posts like these* until I have:
a) The balls to post a proper short story
b) the ability write something decent
c) some originality. This ripped off Robert Rankin wholesale.
* Who groaned? Come on own up!
Hmm.....that serious post didn't materialize did it.....