I've had it with these motherfonking snipes on this motherfonking train!
I mean, when Billy Dean fetched me up this morning to hunt the bastards, I went along cause I figured a snipe steak cooked medium rare with a side of onion rings would really cap off the day. That was before I ever tasted snipe, seen a snipe, or even knew what one looked like. The way Billy Dean made it out to be, a snipe's sorta like a warthog, only wrinklier. Hell, ain't no such a thing. A snipe's a little wretched feathered thing with a beak the size of its body. And sharp? Let me tell you. You never know pain til you get stabbed in the eye with a snipe beak. That happened to me somewhere's between the Hollister and Chidester stops. I decided then and there, bleeding from my eyeballs, that I wanted nothing more to do with any snipe. I got off at Chidester and Billy Dean rode on. Said he'd catch every one of them motherfonking snipes on that motherfonking train or die trying. What a dork.
- Jeeter
Jeeter, you moron! I TOLE you not to wear any aftershave! It just stirs 'em up! Sometimes I think you got brains made of cabbage parts. And you come onto the train with you clompers, too. Sheesh. You saw I was wearin' sandals! I warned you about it, but did you lissen? NOOOOOOooo. You always gotta go your own way. Well I DID catch all them fonkers, dude. Just before Chidester, in fact. You can come over and I'll fix you a mess of snipebugers, with onions, too. Let me know when you can see again.
ReplyDeleteJeeter said..
ReplyDeleteSure hope you debeaked the sumsabitches.
I alreddy et 'em. Deep fried and crunchy. Yum. Pullin' splinters outa my gums as I write. Yowch.
ReplyDelete