RIP CF.... and Nipples

RIP

Boofinecroism.

It's a sad case, but all too common I'm afraid. Death by boofiness.

You see they found the body after about a week. She'd said she was up in Sydney (Sydney! God I know, but there we have it) WORKING when really it was some cheap shonky Northern Beaches foreskin factory. Yes, she sank that low. Wanted some boof transplant and some poor Maronite refo kid had to pay for it – you wanna get out of camp? leave desert? $5? No more razor wire? then whip, slash and a quivering bit of skin from some even more quivering arabic and now might-as-well-be Islamic teenaged asylum seeker, sorry illegal immigrant, gets rushed off to Wrong Side of the Tracks Manly Group District Hospital to be stappled onto to the scarred, veinless, nerveless bone of a cock of Christian Fletcher (may she rest untroubled) AND SHE TOLD NOONE. Came back fit as a fiddle (lies all lies!) and then locked herself away for foreskin fantasies.

Found her you know. Tom did. Was going through her room looking for money. Small change. Something for a tram ticket and a fix. Heard moaning. She'll be right he thought. For God sake's she carries on (and on) after the 5th day.

They found her you know. She'd wrapped her head in ger own schlozzer. Rolled her foreskin over her own head, suffocated on her own smegma. Snuffed it if you like. On her own schlong-snot.

Not the first. Like that Josh Mole. Said she was off to Geneva for Human Rights. Never you believe it. Dr Greenberg's Clinique Suisse De-circumsisionee more like. Lined up 15 Ukrainian youths and had her pick, weekly till the fit was, er, fat.

Never seen again.

If you listen closely in any old Kristen Bjorn vid you can hear her in the background you know: help help! I want my passport back!

It's a form of abuse.

Never sign ANYTHING in Switzerland....

They found her you know... looked like a falafel from the shoulders down (er, up), attached to the groin, wretched, wretching. Vomit, spoof: and of the day it's all the same.

No time for emails that one...

J(ash)

Nipples

He said, she said, they said, everyone wants to say and does, ad nausea… that’s the problemo. The trick is to not say, or not listen, or not partake, as you know 50% of it is going to be crap – uneducated, unthought out drivel, for heaven’s sake – and not worth wasting the effort. 50% will be some version of the truth, with an added agenda. Chinese whispers, but… Yabber, yabber, yabber. Probably their mother’s didn’t tell them their peckers were beautiful when they were young – yes, even the mutilated ones. Maybe they didn’t get picked for the volley ball team in grade 3. Maybe they were cursed with red pubes. I don’t know! But there is a lot of hot air being blown about, which I am surprised you even listen to. Except for me, of course.

I’m now chatting to Angelo – you remember… conversations with…charming, I think your words were.

My last long mail was 10 days ago, sister.

27.05.05

You know it’s Friday night and I got a bag of pot on my way home and I got a fire burning and I got the place to myself. So you know I ain’t gunna wanna write anything. But keep writing to me, very funny, you make me laugh. See, you are clever. Who’d have thought? A couple more joints and I might head to 80.

I reckon Tony is a sitting duck.

Big smile.

I can taste him on my lips already.

Been getting out. Got laid five times. I let this cute Mario get away, after playing with his god of a todger. I mean… I mean… massive, fat and hooded as it came up to say hello. Stuck out from his loins like a tree stump. Cubicle with no light, though. Couldn’t see it. Can’t do. Changing cubicles is always dicey. All the rest were full.

Some other time mate.

Ah!

I had sex with Manny, he split up with his boyfriend. We had hot sex the next night. He has great nipples! During which the phone rang, we ignored it. When I was out on the balcony, having a ciggie after, Manny listened to his message. The boyfriend wanted to make up, he’d be over in five minutes… on a message already thirty minutes old. Manny said later if the boy friend had arrived at the door, he would have just locked me out their, on the (smoking) balcony. It’s only first floor. But, I would have had to make it home with no car keys, no wallet and no phone, all inside. And while I didn’t walk out to the car with my shirt in one hand and my shoes in the other, I felt like I did.

You’d better go.

Any way, the mull bowl awaits.

Be off with you Little One, go explore.

I think I will.

C(Christian)