I'm drunk!

@The_Donkey this woman said now that you are just the best, I apparently do f all for you and you do lots of favours for me. She said I must buy you a bottle of gin from our friend at distell.

Should I tell her you stopped drinking?
 
Craig said:
@The_Donkey this woman said now that you are just the best, I apparently do f all for you and you do lots of favours for me. She said I must buy you a bottle of gin from our friend at distell.

Should I tell her you stopped drinking?
Click to expand...
I will come to Stellebosch and kick your ass skew!!! I'm waiting for my gin tomorrow :thumbsup:
 
The_Donkey said:
I can't find a charger.

What's worst is I went to ask for a charger from my neighbour and now I can't find it. I'm too embarrassed to go ask him if I gave it back
Click to expand...

Send it to my Gmail. Have you still got my Gmail address?
 
The_Donkey said:
I can't find a charger.

What's worst is I went to ask for a charger from my neighbour and now I can't find it. I'm too embarrassed to go ask him if I gave it back
Click to expand...

Im almost too scared to ask if you were sober when you borrowed it?
 
Craig said:
Im almost too scared to ask if you were sober when you borrowed it?
Click to expand...
You might be onto something here. You've created enough doubt in my mind now to not even be ****ing sure whether I went to go ask him for a charger to begin with :unsure:
 
So, I am a tad bit lekker.

Texting random fsckers (I am a lonely old sod when I am drunk*) and rescuing miggies from my poison.

Can't for the life of me remember what I came to post. It was funny. I think... LAUGH and go dop!

Savages!

The asterisk is there to denote that any reference to inebriation should comply with the thread title if at all possible in this stupor we choose to indulge in. Example follows

I was fscknuckled - represented as -> DRUNK
Pissed - represented as -> DRUNK
Slept with a jellyfich - represented as -> DRUNK
Cant spell or utilise the fine arts of non-socialmedia constructed grammar - - represented as -> DRUNK
etc

Fsck it, gonna grab a bowl and finish writing the worst joke in history. My history. Never written a joke before.
 
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Datura said:
So, I am a tad bit lekker.

Texting random fsckers (I am a lonely old sod when I am drunk*) and rescuing miggies from my poison.

Can't for the life of me remember what I came to post. It was funny. I think... LAUGH and go dop!

Savages!

The asterisk is there to denote that any reference to inebriation should comply with the thread title if at all possible in this stupor we choose to indulge in. Example follows

I was fscknuckled - represented as -> DRUNK
Pissed - represented as -> DRUNK
Slept with a jellyfich - represented as -> DRUNK
Cant spell or utilise the fine arts of non-socialmedia constructed grammar - - represented as -> DRUNK
etc

Fsck it, gonna grab a bowl and finish writing the worst joke in history. My history. Never written a joke before.
Click to expand...
I finished the joke. It is more of a drunk introspective piece that sparks joy.

Disclaimer: Mike does not exist and the crows are real.
There was this guy. Early 40’s living on a beach. His name was Mike. Lonely guy sat on his stoep all day watching waves break and whales breach.



Mike used to get two visitors a day. Morning and late afternoon. Two crows. Hansel and Gretel. Mike and the crows became mutual buddies. By mutual, I mean symbiotic in a sense. They listened to Mike chat about nonsense while they ate the morsels that Mike would give them to eat. Mostly bread. Fresh, they hate it when the bread gets hard… Bits of this and that when the occasion presented itself.



They listened to Mike chat about nonsense before they caved in and did what needed to be done.



“Yo, Mike!”, piped Gretel.



“What in the actual **** was that, dude?”, surprised Mike out loud…



“Bro, Hansel and I have been thinking… don’t be alarmed that I am speaking to you, it is all in your mind… and we would like to take you to wherever your heart desires. Right away. If, of course, we come to an understanding. An agreement of sorts… know what I mean?”…



“Yeah cool. A ****ing talking crow. Do you even have a proper tongue? How did you even…

Never mind that… Seeing how I am chatting to you, let’s go! Costa Rica. What are your terms?”



“Squawk! Fully! Here it is: Hansel and I will get a murder together, grab a cord each of your hammock and fly you there. I suggest you bring some nibbles for us and food for yourself. And a coat. Gonna get cold drifting over the Atlantic, mate.”



“Sounds dodge but I am in… terms you were speaking of?”



“Well, the thing is, we kinda want to go to a night club. And drop acid. And dance. Without anyone freaking out about two crows getting down and out.”



“Sorted! Should we be off then? Just going to grab a few tins of baked beans and some pilchards for you lot. Won’t be a minute!”, Mike decided as he leapt to his feet to go do what he had said. Frightening the crows for a moment that saw them ‘flap-flap’ off their perch and return with a tuck of their wings and a beady glance at the skinny bloke before them. Beaks pointed right at him.



No ‘goodbye’ or ‘fare thee well’ to a wretched soul was made. Up into the air they swept. The mad man and the crows. Across the Atlantic they swept. No incident but Mike froze.



In Costa Rica, thawed and fed, they travelled forests side by side. Hansel and Gretel taught Mike how to kill. How to run. How to hide.



The years past quickly. Three of them, at best. And the coolest thing that Mike had learned: how to fly and drop a rock from a very savage height.



Gretel pecked Mike’s head one tropical morning and said, “The time has come, Hansel has read a book about a crazy bird and says that it is time to boogy! Get your things together, we are flying to a night club. You know the drill. Squawk. Vamos.”



Mike grabbed his **** and light packed the supplies that he had prepared for this negotiation’s inevitability. Not a regret later and they were off into the sky. The other crows that Hansel and Gretel had whipped together for the job, spoke only Spanish and drove old Mike quite mad.



They got to Obs one day of days and the Spanish crows pissed off. “I know a place, give me an hour and then we will rock our tits off!” The crows pecked and groomed without much acknowledgement that any human could perceive. The human went to do his thing.



It was town lights and busy streets under the mountain shadow when Mike came back.



“Here, take these ****ers!”, he advised to two wide open beaks and dropped a shot a-piece.



“Let’s go!”.



The club was cool. The music… dark. Nick Cave and all that jazz. The crows they loved the murder ballads and the pixies and some clash.



“Mike!”, squawked Hansel, “This is great but we need to bring our friends!!”.



“Sure, no prob…”, slurred Mike. Not fussed how this ends.



An hour later, God’s truth! Those Spanish crows were back again and tearing off the roof.



“Vamos a jugar por la playa!” they rattled out at a deafening pitch, “ and they whipped out their uzi machine guns out from under their wings. They squawked no questions or ‘crrrrrr”’d no lies.



****ers came out blazing right there in the club.



All the crows under that strobe light with the music banging.



Mike was the first human in history to see it for real. To see what it really looked like.



People had been saying it on the radio with bad noises chaperoning.



Nothing compared to the bloodshed that erupted when all the crows let go.



And then…



Everything stopped.



Hypnotised by very bad house music, the crows dropped their arms that they hid under their wings and the acid kicked in.



Hansel caught Mike by the arm as he turned to leave the world and spun him around to his feathered friends getting dirty on the dance floor.



Gretel crowed up next to Mike and asked him in clean English, “Would you care to dance?”.



“No mean to disrespect.”, he pinned. “But.. the crows are going mad. They are all about to kill each other and that just makes me sad!”.



“Oh pucker up!”, ordered Gretel.



The bullets started flying. Crows blasting crows. Bird brain flying everywhere.



There was a murder on the dance floor!
 
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Did I kill the thread?

Fsck me gently, I just read that now. Weed and beer don't hurt but they don't do much good together...

I think it is beer o'clock. Gave myself the afternoon off as I will be spending the next 4 nights doing server migrations :(

I actually dig it but can't dop and do it. Will end up redirecting goldenshores to goldenshowers or some k@k.
 
Datura said:
Did I kill the thread?

Fsck me gently, I just read that now. Weed and beer don't hurt but they don't do much good together...

I think it is beer o'clock. Gave myself the afternoon off as I will be spending the next 4 nights doing server migrations :(

I actually dig it but can't dop and do it. Will end up redirecting goldenshores to goldenshowers or some k@k.
Click to expand...

Well I thought it was good.

You could drop the punchline (even make it the title) and it would still be a cool short story.
 
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