Stoptober Diaries. Day 3 ...shhhiiiiuu ti kwooar. Shhhiii rrr tu qwooor. It sounds like an asthmatics last death rattle. I thought to lessen the tension we could use this as I inhale non-smoke from the freshly purchased battery powered fruit-flavoured plastic tube. Behold. I am the Master of the Mist !!! FFS is muttered from somewhere in the kitchen. Son 2 - You sound like Darth Vader Son 1 - Points at me and kills me with - ha ha DAFT VAPOUR !!!. The boys are rolling on the floor, when a voice from the kitchen adds More like Jabba the Fat Bastard Hutt. One of the boys starts to hyper-ventilate. I heard that Oh good. At least something on you still works. I instinctively cover my dangly-bits and fire a quizzical look to the kitchen. I make for the solace of the garden; puffing intently shhhhii ti kwooar Shhiii ti quoar. Now hes Ivor the bloody Engine and more cackling. I find a wide and sturdy chair and try to contemplate how just 1 day with a bottle of Grants and 20 Chesterfields wouldnt hurt. I notice the curtains are twisted in the corners. I am more startled by the twisted tea-spoon on the grass. I cross my legs.
Posted on: Sat, 04 Oct 2014 09:44:10 +0000
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