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Story No. 1028
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'Delicious', my Grandfather said as he passed me back the still smouldering crack pipe over christmas dinner.
With the cancellation of roast potatoes it was immediatly obvious mother wasn't happy. She had been swatting flies with what was left of grandad.
We quickly piled his remains into the boot and headed off to the
large object at the back of the farmer's field. The object had arrived on Tuesday and so far no one had worked out what it was. It was roughly square, although not completely, and appeared to be made entirely out of
plastercine so morph seems to think so as he loves old tony heart and his gallery,
where the weeks Crimes Against Art were held up to be spat at by bitter teachers as they drank meths.
- Contributors:
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Raaaa -
Big Vadge Madge - ton1c
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The Bishop of Southwark -
dieselsmomma -
Crowfeeder
[ See who wrote what ]
