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Story No. 315
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"I don't understand, what am I doing here? Why me? What is the point of it all?" I wondered as I sat with my feet in the bath caressing
the shiny chrome tap. It was quite phallic, she thought. A few swipes from the old soap-on-a-rope and she squated, forcing herself onto the tap, masturabting furiously. Then her mum walked in.
And thus she spake, quothing " Get those hairy hands off my scotched egg collection or i'll take thee to the cleaners and put thee on a ninety degree setting!"
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(the pause lasted for only a micro-second) No, he shouted, I disagree. The fundamental tents of surburban swinging allow for rubber hosing your neighbours wife but not your own daughter!
"I have always been my own daughter, and I have the stretch-marks to prove it" replied Brian, slipping into the back of the room through a trombone and landing with a squelch upon the head of whomever last spoke.
Arthur Lee
Crowfeeder
Raaaa
