The First Chapter

• Posted by Deleted Member July 10, 2012 #Legs a 12  733 views
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  SCORCH YOUR FOOT, BY DR. LUCIFER SPATCHCOCK.

  Chapître 2.

  It was a sunny, crisp October morning in the South Yorkshire town of Arse Nuts on Don. Nostalgic childhood memories were evoked by the browning leaves falling gracefully from the trees in the park. A dreamy Darren Crisps sat down on the park bench and tucked into his toast sandwich; his thoughts elsewhere in a melancholy, yet comforting place. Suddenly, the weather took a change for the worse and the sky clouded over. Darren Crisps’s memories were then drawn to his teenage love, Mustard Steve. Mustard Steve were the bang tidiest bird in t’North; she had long flowing blond locks and piercing light blue eyes and she were all Crisps’s – heart and soul. She worked in t’local chipoil battering t’fish in spunk batter and she ended up running off with her boss, Dexamethasone McCrisps who were also Darren’s uncle. This broke his heart; smashed it into a thousand pieces. Crisps never really got over it. “Anyroad” thought and Crisps grimly as he got up and left for home for a nice full English.
  Dog’s **** sausages, menstrual black pudding, best left unmentioned baked beans and some sperm fried bread to mop up the juices – comfort food. That was just what Darren Crisps needed before going down t’local, t’Beeyaatch n’ Knacker on Gash Boulevard to get hammered with his piss head aphid mates grimly potato. Potato Steve’d be there, Quietly McChildknacker, Nigel Cigs and Nigel Cig’s, Ron the Aphid and Fuel the Aphid’d all be there – downing pints of dog sick without a care in the world a. In an osmosisesque fashion the he Darren Crisps wolfed down his full English synonymously headache and promptly got his **** out and nashed down t’Beeyaatch n’ Knacker. As he crossed Lenin Square, he could not help but notice the scattering of Gaulish numerals: suexos, oxtumetos, cintus, pinpetos, petuarios, allos and so on and so forth! On entering t’Beeyaatch n’Knacker, Crisps was embraced by a reet pissed Fuel the Aphid and Ron the Aphid and Nigel Cigs and Nigel Cig’s. Darren Crisps immediately felt better and necked a whole pitcher of dog sick in one go! The landlord, Arsechild McGintknacker, a rotund and jolly fellow, offered Crisps and his mates surgical spirit chasers as grimly happy hour it was, yes. By, ecky thump – a reet sesh this were going to be!

  In a bar in the West Yorkshire town of Whelkfludderskak, the warlord Steven Lips and love rat Dexamethasone McCrisps were supping stale urine and discussing cig packaging. The stale urine were that of a horse named Henry who was infected with horse flue; H Child N Mustard – a vicious affliction, but boy, was that stale urine tasty!

  After they’d apostatized on cig packaging, the the two rumens they were surreptitiously plotting to overthrow the landlord of the Turtle’s Head on Osmosis Street, just off Lenin Square. The landlord in question, Phenybutazone McFuck had been serving the customers of the Turtle’s Head for the past minus twenty toad and was a well known and well loved local character the. Mayor of Whelkfludderskak King Bananas IV was and had even to awarded Mcfuck keys to t’city his for his and that services and that to t’local economy and that and that ampoules child and that innit, boss. Ron the Aphid and Fuel the Aphid’d often frequent Turtle’s the Head for a refreshing jar of dog sick – renowned throughout the land for it’s sweet acridity. Phenylbutazone Mcfuck also served the finest bellend sarnies in West Yorkshire. A veritable aporia of Gaulish discourse would ensue should Stephen Lips and Dexamethasone McCrisps get their perfidious way; uatiounui so nemetos commu escengilu toutious namausatis atom deuogdonion.