The Tromboner.
I’ll post something other than silly pictures soon. Promise.
WELCOME TO DUBLIN.
One of my best mates of all time. He stole that bike from outside of a Centra. The poor, little girl was probably inside spending her pocket money on a cola bar. He took that shit into a bush and set it on fire. Well damn, that’s the way it was back in the day. Thug.
Rhino’s Birthday Card 2002
We wrote this Birthday Card to Mr. Ryan, our Maths teacher, when we were in transition year. Apparently, the word ‘clit’ had just entered our class’s vocabulary and we were all very excited to use it as much as possible. It seems at least one of us was unsure as to what it actually meant;
1. I made ur da stick his throbbing cock up your daughter’s clit
2. I squeezed your daughter’s clit with a pliers
3. purple is the stain from ur daughters punctured clit
Other meritable greetings;
- ur mother wailed with pleasure when a thrust a scissors deep into her cunt
- is ur dog still limping?
- I tore at ur mas chitter
- I used vaseline to soften ur ma’s dead skin
- Hallo faggot, I dug up ur ma, fucked her and ate her. She was salty.
Some day, I hope to receive one of these myself.
Mr. Shitcannister.
I was teaching a class today and by chance I came upon an old notebook of mine. I found a very short story that I had scrawled in a cramped frenzy on a plane home from Canada.
To give the reader some background; for 9 hours I had been stuck in the middle seat of the row, between my girlfriend and an unfortunate woman who had such a bad tooth infection that with every breath she exhaled, a cloud of heinous, blackened gas would spew forth from her septic pot of pungent purulence. I resolved to alleviate my discomfort by producing a written anecdote in which I would act out some violent vengeance upon my nauseating antagonist. My girlfriend warned me against doing so in case my impish ploy should be exposed and so I changed some specific details to sidetrack my odorous neighbour’s possible suspicions.
The original manuscript.
It reads:
“This one time in my life I was stuck on a plane flying from B.C. in Canada to a place called Sweden. There was an ugly man sitting next to me and he had a foul stench emanating from between his buttocks. I asked him nicely to cease/cancel(?) the vulgar stench by holding in his body wind but he failed to comply.
I waited patiently until we were served our meal (it was a 9 hour flight). I was served a foul chicken-dish. The vegetables were beyond rancid and the potatoes showed grot on their diced underbellies. Anyways, I gripped my plastic knife in my hand and tapped Mr. Shitcannister on his shoulder. As he turned around I thrust the fork in his eye and spat a mouthful of spitty, chewed-up chocolate in his face. ‘Bon Appetit!’, I blurted…..”
