Sunday, October 11, 2009

Do you like guns?

I had a gun to my head this gone Friday morn/eve.
T'was an event to behold, I very nearly shat brix, a delicate trail of rust-coloured rectangles so close to be coming apparent.
You may ask, 'why?'. I wouldn't doubt that you are even a little bit curious to know how this story goes. Well, it happened at aprox. 3:15am, or more so, this is where our story begins.
It had come to my attention that a few shady looking strangers had entered the premises of my home, purchasing a 50bag from our dealer, before claiming that the ganja be a'taken involuntarily. Or so to say, stolen ganja.
It was well-known that the accused 'theif' was in fact, not a theif at all and that this was some serious buuullllshit. No point-ze-finger games f' me.
However, despite our efforts to converse with the High Scorers of the blame game, we were given a simple warning to be headed. 'We shall return at 4o'clock sharp with our associates, armed and dangerous'.
I retreated to the living room once the commotion had died down, laying my old self down beside Sir Dicey and discussing prior events, and watching a damn good film, which, as it would turn out, was rudely interrupted by a shouting gentleman. 'Nine mm Glock!'
'wut buddy?' I say, arising to my feet. 'Dis gun shit, in my home? wut the fuck, bruzz', I say, taking the whole event very seriously. 'Let us be off to deal with these fuckin' dickheaaaads, my good sir', I announce to Sir Dicey.
And as if by magic, at the tick of a clock, it was I, standing amidst a battlefield of sorts, expecting all manner of internal organs to fly at me and collide with my face. They did not, however, but my eyes did indeed take in the gun/machete/metal bat weilding lunatics that surrounded me and my comrads.
A brave young female stands before the gun and RAAAAAAAAGES at the weilder, and just as the ol' chap notices me old self, t3h gun turns it's attention to me, indeed, for a brief 10 seconds, and I stare at it for just a little ol' while, before turning my back upon it.
'oh dear me, dat waz some silly tingz to do, Fertz', I mentally lecture myself. 'why has turned back on weaponzzz?'. But alive I stand, for no speeding bullet met my back, and feeling not dead, I continued inside the house, having nothing better to do but stand around hyperventilating.
Balaclava'd men pushed past me, uttering apologies and such, a particular sir delivering a certain message: Apologies, m'lady, retreat to the back of this there buildin', and ye shall be safe from harm.
'Gah', I exhale. 'Scurvy bidden rats'. I see da assailants enter my room by means of force, breaking down the door with one of dem dere metal batzorz. 'Awshi-!', me shouts, 'Dem Emily and Sir Jaymes be a'sleeping in dat room, cuz!'.
But unchanged the situation be, as brave young female who shall be honoured from this day forward is thrown against ze bed. 'Oh noes, awaking to gun in face is not my cup of tea', Emily would think, as she burries said face into Sir Jaymes.
'Empty dem dere pockets', gun-dude demands, and almost has his way but a courageous fool attempts to disarm him. Courageous fool earns a gun smack in da face, but owellz, for he completed his mission to distract the cursed gun-dude. The men exit the building, leaving our bustop shattered, a mess of shattered glass.
Dem dere brave young female who be named Krys calls the ol' pigs, calm and collected amidst dis chaotic scenez. Ten internetz to you, delicious little girl, you is braver thenz even me!
Owellz, owellz, so I was pussy and bailed wit the others at mention of cops a'coming, for they is far more scarier than any gun/machete/metal bat weilding lunatic dat dere smashed up my home wit their spite!
It occured to me, howevz, in the following morn, that gun was in fact... Pussy Replica. Apparently, gun replica is da shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit, but I disagree entirely.
I am in the belief that no faces were broken and that as traumatic as this epic movie-like night may have been, we shall all recover.
Sir Dicey asks 'Would you have knowledge of what is very homosexual about last night?'.
'What would that be?', me asks, wondering.
'That we did not in fact indulge in sexual intercourse'.
It's recently come to my attention that Sir Dicey is an utter douche.
cuz d4t wuz OBVIOUSLEE ze worstest ting dat happened on dat dr34dfulz eve.

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