Thursday, December 17, 2009

Egg on a stick

She was as tall as a large novelty pencil and her head was the size of pickle. Just like an egg on a stick. No eyes, nothin to speak of. Frightening. Dancing round the room like a star. Grabbin all the pots and pans out of our cupboards and whipping up a storm. A fucking storm. Wendy we shouted over the din...Wendy! Get out of the shop ya fuckin egg on a stick. You are bringing us undone.

This is quite an emotional scene people. BV is crying tears of sauce mate and my right tonsil's got gas. Fuckin gas.

Wendy's banging her pan and I can quite seriously see this all ending. Like that fish Otto goin down the drain into the sea. Ending. And me ma's all 1950's and shit and Im all alone now in the big sea.

The big sea is not where we wanna be.

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