|
and gripping his throbbing
|
member as he unzipped
|
a bag of fish
|
/side/ thought you might come in to save yourself - good timing /note/
|
sticks. "Dammit!" he cried,
|
as he turned on
|
the toaster oven. "I
|
really prefer Gortons". But
|
the smell was enough
|
to stimulate his taste
|
in fish. Budweiser goes
|
down easy when cooking,
|
as does Spudcon's Mum.
|
who does a great
|
lol@SG!
...impression of a marauding |
hot Gorton's fish stick.
|
Spudcons wife on the
|
weekends was different from
|
the others spud satisfied
|
in his SuperSpudman role.
|
That very night, Spudcon
|
decided to leave his
|
underwear in the drawer.
|
Swinging freely, he walked
|
proudly to the nearest
|
bathroom to pee, then
|
marched to the kitchen
|
for a spot of tea.
|
then chop up weiners.
|
and beaners and Spam
|
for a tasty treat.
|
"How odd," he thought,
|
spam, wieners and spam
|
roasting. "Punctuation's critical nowadays!"
|
He mused, tossing his
|
throat yogurt haphazardly towards
|
the throat yoghurt bin.
|
He missed, but it
|
fell back in it
|
Later, beer in hand
|
he peed in the snow
|
cone his neighbour was
|
laboriously crafting from real
|
imported igloos. As he
|
let fly, he thought,
|
this is true freedom!
|
Then watched Braveheart again.
|
Suddenly, police burst in!
|
The duct tape police
|
Captained by the captivating
|
and strangely overdressed, Captain
|
wearing flippers and a kilt
|
what a happy monkey
|
would wear to a
|
tape shape making convention.
|
Captain Duct Tape pulled
|
out his huge silver
|
balls, which he had
|
handily stored in his
|
huge silver ball container.
|
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