Wednesday, August 29, 2018
Knife Shop
-A complete workshop of plastic surgery,
cuts and pastes and trickeries, has moved into my apartment building. I do believe a titty reduction is my pretty future!
-Good! Because you never wash that
training bra. Typical male filth!
-And a Ball Lift after that.
-Just one? Or can’t find the other in
all the residual old fat?
-Hmmm? Maybe Dr Quick-Knife should
excise that latter first?
-Step one of so many...but STOP!
-Whyso?
-Cease and desist! I’m telling me.
For going along with your macho
self-ridicule implies that you’re
still a man.
-I’m not?
-Nah. You’ve reached the age
when it no longer matters.
-Not even fair game for brainless
ridicule anymore?
-No one gives a flying fuck!
-Why put it that mildly? Total mental
and physical mess...and respected!
Christ! Can I step back?
-No way! Reinforced wall!
-So I can be ever so slightly
amusing whilst no one attends?
That’s my very best till expiration?
-Pardon?
Labels: done, friends, macho humor, Old Age, plastic surgery, ridicule, self-ridicule
