He forcefully holds his curved nose with his fingers as if they were pliers, and declares freely in a strong masculine voice, “My mommy should give these naughty boys a good whip in the tush. Permitting their personal odours to drift and wander through public areas in eminently inappropriate.”
“Why zee hell ‘ou ‘ere if zeh aint able zeh breathe in eh little fukin’ wisp o’ zis ass?” She slams open the already broken door causing him to suddenly jump like a rabbit as she glares at him with her drunken blood-shot eyes.
“My mommy explicitly told me not to chitter-chatter with strangers; and YOU ma’am, are a stranger.” And with that, he stalks away towards the urinal, one fist raised high towards the filthy mildew ceiling.
“‘Ou ma’am, zare eh stranger’” she mimics him in a squeaky childlike tone; her head bobbling from shoulder to shoulder as she trudges after him, “Boy, ‘ou zay me eh fukin’ stranger uno more time an’ by zee time z’I’m done wiz ‘ur rattlin’, ‘ur fukin’ face will zave become eh fukin’ stranger zto ‘OU!. Ugh damn it, I need zee smoke.”
Ma’am, I must say, you’re odour already bares a striking resemblance to my mommy’s armpits. Another cigarette is NOT going to do you any favours. Please, can I offer you some powder? It possesses a fresh yet delicately light scent of flowers. It’s Avon!” He snaches a medium-sized cylinder tube from his breast pocket and waves it gleefully in front of her pimply face.
As if an invisible source has electrocuted her, she plunges towards him without warning, grabs him by the nape of his neck and violently dunks his face into a toilet seat. “Zis fool, ain’t ‘ur momma teach ‘ou ztoo shut ‘ur fukin’ trap? ‘Ou best tell ‘ur momma to put ‘er crap in eh bowl razzer zen in ‘ur noodle.”
Apparently unaware of the red veins popping out of her eyes like 3-D spider webs, he continues to happily chat away, “In actuality, I believe the term you are struggling to refer to is toilet bowl. However, it is also frequently known as the toilet seat. My mommy doesn’t like it when I don’t put the cover down, because SOMETIMES, not always, I forget to flush away the remnants which escape my body.”
(to herself) “Zis Frequently…an’ zeese remnants...why zee fuck ziss ass-wipe oo’sin’ all zis big WORDS? Does ‘e think ‘e iz bezzer zen me or zumme shit like zat? Does ‘e think I don’t know what ‘e iz TALKIN’ z’about? Zi oughta show ‘im zat ‘e ain’t zee only fuckin’ boy wiz wits zat as sharp as zee knife zat punctured zee brain o’ my last…”
With a smirk slowly creeping upon her cracked lips, she spins around to face his awaiting bubbly smile, “Z’Yo dipsteeck, ‘u want too play cops an’ robbers?”
“Oh, how exhilarating! However, I must decline your enticing offer. It is now time for me to offer my sexy body to those pretentious women in a way in which you perceptibly have been deprived.”
What zee fuck ‘ou jus’ zay zto me, ‘ou panzy-stripper? ‘ou bezzer run run, run, run, az fast as ‘ou fuckin’ can, schmuck, o’ else ‘ou definitely gon’ be eh dead man.”
Finally allowing some sense to hammer into his noggin, he flees as fast as his chubby legs allow him; screaming like a parrot at the top of him lungs…
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3 comments:
... and that line about the mom's armpits... o'priceless.
Laughter. The only emotion to be effective after reading this peice.
your mind is like a balloon that will never deflate for your ideas are so exquisite, so tantalizing to the close-minded person of waht truly happens in a public washroom. i must say, the drifting aromas of people's farts and body extracts annoy me so as well i am with mama's boy on this one! although, has he nvr smelled his own fart?
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