Chiffon #98. A Few Cans Short of a Food Parcel

Hullo,

Straight up! What the fuck is going off? I was laughing to hear the prime minister, Capt. Krudd, asking for a fair shaking of the sauce bottle. One does not shake but sucks the sauce. I wonder just how many kangaroos short of a picnic is this man?

The Aussie slang, is she ready for an overhaul? Does she need the overhaul? What does it mean if one speaks our slang like they are making it up? Is he really Australian? I think he is pretending because he is a Labor man and you have to be identifiable with the workers of this country

STRUTH

Does not this coot know? He could check with the cove he has put in as his five-eight. He probably wouldn’t know which end of a wallaby tail tastes better? It is a valid concern what is happening to our slang. I daresay it will morph into some multi-culturally acceptable babble spoken in a broken foreign language and will be then legislated against so as to stop this sort of thing happening again. Wallah!

I was sitting on the bus enjoying my Action hero’s (Bus Driver Man?) driving the other day, when we approached a stop with two people waiting. One of them got on and the other asked Bus Driver Man if he could take the bike on the bus. I should mention that some buses have a facility for carrying the bikes of, I guess, over zealous wanna be healthy heroes!

I thought of the paradox that exists about riding a bike for the obvious benefits and the convenience of catching the bus and negating those benefits, as well as the inconvenience in taking the bike on the bus. One or the other, surely.

Whilst on the subject of getting around, I should tell you about the car that my friend acquired, that stopped, on the highway. Now let me tell you about stopping on the highway. It is lonely. It is lonelier than a suspected case of swine flu in Korea. And the reason it stopped was that the engine got hot, the radiator she was dry. She was drier than a dingo in a drought.

I did not wish to drive it further as I did not wish to create further damage. I was doing the right thing however a short phone call to my friend to tell her I was on the highway translated to the car’s more fucked than a hooker working double shifts. Apparently I was broken down on the highway because this car she bought was a shitheap and the engine was fucked. I guess she got carried away with the moment. Her friends who know a little about a lot, further revved her up by telling her that the head was cracked and that it would be a big job to repair. She would probably need a new engine yaddah, yaddah.

God knows what they told her but it has resulted in everyone she knows behaving like a Morgan gallop poll, all of it is/was speculative.

Way too much energy.

As is my thing I will tell you about the dog.

The dog Cage.

My dog.

She has just had pups, seven of them. Cage is a border collie. The father of these puppies is one of those annoying little terriers, a toy dog. I am embarrassed and miffed because these dogs are not the purebreds they should be, but they are very funny.

It was around two in the morning the other day/night, when I was wrenched from my sleep by the sound of a little puppy squealing in the compound out in the backyard. My immediate thought, Nooooo! The little puppy is being killed suffocated or squashed or something worse. So unlike Clark Kent I dashed out the front door, in the nude, and what a sight for the neighbours as my breasts, they swung free and unhindered. I negotiated the steel gates to the enclosure, reaching their (the puppies’) door in one, or two perhaps, more like half a dozen single bounds. I had enough presence of mind to show my best sides.

I opened the door to a pitch-black void It was blacker than a good economy’s budget. I could hear the pup, alas I could not see it. Just then from out of the darkness, six puppies, all trying to get away from the squealer, inundated me. I fumbled around in the dark and finally found the seventh pup. It was stuck in the middle of a car tyre which had been leaning against the wall and now had fallen around this little k9 (We will call this one hub) and it was stuck and could not get out to be with her or his brothers and sisters who by now had wandered off and were spreading in a ever growing ark across the backyard.

I spent ten minutes trying to call, collect, herd, contain, just get them really, as well as striking some stunning poses simply because I could and my public demand it. I finally carried them all back to their beds and tucked them in. Did I neglect to mention that it is the middle of winter, that at this time, the Mercury does not move. It was cold. My nipples, my nipples were pert and proud was I. Whilst all of this is going on I wondered about the mother of these puppies. Where was she? Did she care? Oh nooooo! She was inside the house keeping warm. This is certainly a dog’s life, Nespar!

Luff Chiffon xxx.

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