goat

The Sentence Game

©The Goat and his Boiled Chairman - facebook announcement

stories

Tony picked up the phone and dialed a random number. It turned out that the number wasn't so random afterall, my hands out of habit insticntively dialled 0898 664 664 and was soon listening to the soothing sound of Phil Collins, who was having his gut slit open with the sharpened edge of a Gary Glitter Best Of CD. I thought carefully before accepting. Did I really want sublimnal kiddy-fiddling messages? Did I want to be in his gang, his gang, his gang? Pete Townsend's book has never been published either... There was only one thing to do, shag my friends nan... I removed my heavily soiled underwear, which had been dripping throughout the conversation. A substance not unlike orange molasses caked the cloth. I put them in my pocket to save for later - I was fairly sure I didn't have any food back at my apartment. It could have been a friendship that lasted for years but for that pesky turkey.
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