Sixteen year old Hamrick Oster is known for one thing above all others. A little help here.
Gurlock O'turlingmook offers:
Friday, March 16, 2007
2 comments:
-
-
It's his shirt collar, boy-o. I agree wit you, the stoyle's hideous, but that's kids nowadays.
And it's not loik he's blind, mate. He's got oys wot are plain as the nose on 'is face. Y'can see his left one here, jest south o'that scar he got a'skateboarding last summer. A little beedy oyed shite, he is. - 10:06 AM
-
-
Whell, it moit jist bee whut ye say, but it's still disgoostin. Stoyl, moy big white reer ind. And 'is oys moyt jist bee as plain as th' nooz on his face, but I kinna see it, soo there. I wish ye a fair dey.
- 8:08 PM
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
It's the huge fin on his head, of course of course. Whoy, oy've seen the little bigger flyin' doon the street, head torned soydwoys while grinnin' loik a lizard, I have. He's the envy of all the kids in the neighborhood, he is. The gorls goo crazy fer the boy, they do. Oy've nivver unnerstood any of this, o' course. Wit no oys er nose, y'd tink he'd be considered a hideous mess o' stinkin flesh, and to some, I s'pose he is. But he's OUR Oster, y'know. Why, I remember 'im flyin' boy last week, a whole gaggle o' young gorls sceamin' and runnin' after; his headfin torned soidwys, kitchin' the wind, skeetboad unner his feets jist spinnin along.
Oy don't know jist whut that pink thing is unner his chin, tho. That ting's joost digustin' if'n ye axe me.