Tuesday, September 16, 2008

47.

Daly made his way down the street, moving as if he couldn't decide whether he wanted to walk or crawl. If anyone were in his immediate vicinity they would have no doubt been thoroughly disturbed; to compliment his unsightly spasmodic dance, he groaned incessantly in a harsh brogue befitting a mule immediately after castration.

The only person who could have noticed was Melanie, but she was thoroughly distracted by the rubbish bin which had inconveniently swallowed her left leg. She was beginning to chaff and not in a good way. Then it burst upon her, surprising, like a freshly opened deep anal fissure that you would never have noticed if not for the change of water colour during your post number two observations. The unsettling noise reveberating from Daly's vocal chords beat out the pain in her leg (mainly because it was starting to numb), she looked around. First a flying man now this, it looked like a zombie was headed right for her.

1 comment:

lorenhops said...

Only a truly heartless individual would castrate a mule. I'm working on my metaphors and similies, I'm pretty sure I can do better.