Runner's World novel.

121 to 140 of 148 messages
11/10/2012 at 14:07

Only Shortfuse Shorty who did not get that moniker by accident but was given him by his mother to commemorate his birth. He yelled at Ismail in Italian "Pourquoi? only to hear it reverberate around him irritatingly translated to the French "Perche". Before Ismail could respond a great sow appeared looking at him accusingly..........

11/10/2012 at 21:42

as he tucked into a pork sausage, still his favourite delicacy despite his now legendary penchant for salivating in public, I wonder he thought scratching himself, will Terry and June be on Gold this evening or are they still repeating Sykes - there was only one way to find out, he rolled up his trousers and climbed aboard his................

11/10/2012 at 22:22

bath yacht. He reached for his cockeled copy of the TV times and thunbed through to the right page. Poo bum and bollox, he'd missed it! Still, if he was lucky he'd find himself one of those damn diggly angles things and hotwire the thing to take him back in time so he could watch the whole series on one of those old fashioned tube thingies. Right, peanuts...

11/10/2012 at 22:22

donkey. It sagged beneath his considerable weight, and what little remained of it's dignity slipped away into the ether. The donkey stared morosely at the dusty ground and sighed dejectedly. Today, it decided, would be the day. Come nightfall, it would all be over.................

12/10/2012 at 06:36

... so with his fate now decided Peanuts the donkey (see what i did there) pondered on how he would spend these final few hours ... 

12/10/2012 at 09:31

how could a donkey spend his last hours on this mortal coil,  As he pondered, there was a whisper in the background - pssst he heard his name called "Peanuts, over here" he looked and saw a raggedy dressed man with long flowing hair and a beard, his feet were encased in sandles and he was asking for a ride as far as Jerusalem - oh no not again thought Peanuts but the man was insistant so off he went trundling alon and thinking of his cousin Dominic I wonder where he...................................

12/10/2012 at 22:51

put the marmite, I could right fancy a cheese and marmite sandwhich right now. he thought to himself. As it was with his current burden it probably wouldn't be wise to ask for bread, or water for that matter, what he did to water was anybodies guess, probably pissed in it, or bathed in it. Something like that anyway, it certainly wasn't fit for a donkey to drink. Oh we're here...

13/10/2012 at 14:50

.......thought Peanuts as the hippy bloke wandered off serenely smoking his whiff leaving Peanuts withdrawal symptoms as the fug dispersed and his head cleared. Where is my master Ismail and who is this Man with No Name calling me his burro? Me a burro? We'aall at least he is looking after me and  tells them cowpokes when I am upset. It gets reee'all exciting when they don't listen to his carefully chosen mumblings. For a few dollars more I might just hang about this dude maybe Sister Sarah (see wot I done!) and her two mules might turn up........

13/10/2012 at 18:28

which she did.

Meanwhile, in a secret government underground bunker, a scientist was working. Hunched over a microscope he peered intently at the sample he had cultured painstakingly. He readjusted the focus, and the image cleared. There it was, plain to see. The virus was thriving. Damn it! He sat back, rolling his stiff neck as he reached for yet another glass slide. His hand slipped. The glass fell. Without thinking, the scientist grabbed for it. He caught the cool glass, his hand wrapping round it far tighter than intended, and he felt it shatter...........

13/10/2012 at 19:24

drat, these glass slides are damned expensive and I don't have the budget for another. Two decades of work down the drain for want of a tiny bit of fragile glass. he looked at another glass, this one, at least was still viable, it contained more than a finger of scotch. He swigged down more than he should and felt it's firery path down. Hell that was good. Pushing his glasses back up his nose he contrived a plane to steel the much needed extra slide from that ahole Nisbet. He was a prize if ever there was one. He deserved to be ruined ffs. What could be more wasteful than trying to solve the puzzle. No, Nisbet was a waste of space, even more so than his stupid project. Bert stood from his stool, for he was sitting, and walked calmly into the empty lab of Nisbet. (Nisbet wasn't known for working long hours).

13/10/2012 at 22:13

Nisbet was known however for leaving his stools all over the place, the runners trots had plagued him for years. Bert wiped the stool off his foot with a slither of glass he found on the laboratory bench and carelessly tossed it to one side. As he walked out the doors, two decades of micro bacterial research began to mulitply at an alarming rate, cross crossing with the DNA from Nisbet's stool.  Had Nisbets research ultimately been succesful or...........................................

Edited: 13/10/2012 at 22:13
14/10/2012 at 09:23

had he created a pile of poop. A festering ever growing pile of poop at that. The steam rose as the fetid stench grew. A fog with a green tinge (green is so zombie) permeated the laboratory, creeping in cupboards and sliding down the necks of demijohns, infiltrating the silent inhabitants of petridishes...

14/10/2012 at 09:55

and lastly in his home made dandelion and snail gin. Months it had been fermenting, bubbling away nicely ready for his daughters long awaited wedding the following saturday where she was finally going to mary her handsome, but ginger Prince Harry. Hal had been born after a short liaision with a former calvary officer, depsite that the once and future king had accepted him as his own packing him off to front line Afghanistan to coninute his education. Ginger nuts as he was known (in polite society) had returned ready for his big day. Little did he know, indeed little diot the waiting world know the fate that was to befall him. As he arrived at..........................

15/10/2012 at 01:15

the front line, Cilla Black jumped out singing "Surprise, Surprise..."

15/10/2012 at 09:12

The trouble is he hated that show, ever since that incident with Bob Carolgees and Spit the Dog when.................................

15/10/2012 at 09:45

someone passed him a glass of dandilion and snail gin and all that was forgotten.

The next day he had a roaring headache a stomach that had been trampled by a thousand elephants and a body that refused to get out of bed. That could only mean one thing.

He was dead. That was going to be a bit of a bummer then. How was he going to save the world now? Still look on the bright side, I'm not going to have to spend the rest of my days with...

15/10/2012 at 14:09

my father who some years ago adpted the Jehovah Witness faith. The idea os spending another Saturday afternoon with his foot stuck in a door whilst trying to persuade a drug addled Glaswegian that God

  1. Did Exist
  2. That all he had to do was to read this free magazine
  3. Remove his fist from Nisbet's mouth.

If only however he had adopted his brothers muslim faith, even now he would be travelling to heaven to meet up with 76 islamic virgins.  Oh sh*t he thought now what is going to.....................................

 

15/10/2012 at 14:47

... wow that's hot... (and no he wasn't looking at one of the very many virgins, which btw, where do they all come from or is it the same 76 and once dead you can't do that sort of thing, well not in public anyway and not with God in the same room). Where was the plot? Oh yes, Harry is dead and wondering what's going to happen to the planet? no? oh, his dog Barkles now that there is no one to take him walkies.

15/10/2012 at 15:26

Fortunately, as is always the way when drifting off plot, Harry's devestated next of kin contacted Cesar Millan America's renowned Dog Whisperer. If anyone could resolve the issue he could. Unfortunately, his suggestion to send the dog to Korea was not what they had anticipated and one that they frankly didn't think was the correct decision. To compound matters, Harry's son's school called to say that Harry Junior had left his lunchbox at home today and would it be ok if they gave him a hot lunch, well what could they say of course......................................

15/10/2012 at 15:36

While out on a 10K run with the dogs the 76 virgins found an old Sydney Post newspaper cutting pinned to a large oak tree. 

Dillidangeroo is a smal sheep station on a three point bearing 043 degrees north of Alice Springs. Swagmen and jumbucks settled around a billabong to watch Jenny go walkabout some years ago in the mandolin wind and just stayed. There are no girls there though all the stockmen call out to each other "G'day Sheila" just to remind themselves what each is missing. They are all hardmen and though female anecdote has it that a hardman is good to find they ...........

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