Post by Farquaad "Friendly" Fire on Aug 14, 2019 18:11:53 GMT -5
“I knoo it was love first time Phoebe peed in me mouth” beamed rotund Brummie of Bangladeshi descent, hands scratching his irritable anus with, mercifully, a leather chair obscuring this abominable sight. A pristine, greying man, badge reading “Related Marriage Counselling: Nigel”, sat the opposite side of a beech desk, eyes darting between the clock and empty chair next to his client.
“Farquaad, would you prefer to reschedule to a time more convenient for your wife?” Nigel queried. “Nah babs, me wench’s comin”. The door opened and an elderly, even more rotund Bengali led a whippet into the room. It barked loudly and excitedly mounted Farquaad, tonguing him with gusto.
“Aw Phoebe, yam licken’ me face so bostin’!” he squealed with delight. “This is a joke! You’re nuts!”. “She ain’t licked me nuts in yonks, that’s why we’m eya”. Nigel rose indignantly, held the door open and asserted “Sir, I am a marriage counsellor, not an animal psychologist! Goodbye!”. The older man slammed the door with unearthly strength. Nigel quivered. “WE PAY GOOD MONEY YOU HELP THEM OR I SMASH”. Nigel nodded, sitting back down.
“Sorry abart Uncle Vikesh, he just been on a positive thinken’ course for ‘is anger isshooows”. “IT SHIT” Vikesh yelled. Nigel diverted the focus – “So Mr. Fire, when did the problems between you and your… wife start?”
Farquaad stroked the dog, now growling aggressively. “It begun when she begged me fer sex with those puppy eyes. I ‘ad to disappoint ‘er… we had sex. Anover time duren oral, I accidentally kicked 'er an' she bit me on the bollocks. Uncle Vikesh said 'it's karma', I said 'no, if anythen she’s even mower angry'”.
Nigel shook his head. “I must say, sex with animals is wrong, at least in my eyes”.
“Of course mayyyte… it’s much betta up tha bum then in yaw eyes.”
Uncle Vikesh glared at Nigel to conform. He obliged, stroking his chin in feigned professional contemplation. “Clearly your issue's that of sexual compatibility. Have you tried anything to nurture intimacy?”
“I bought a Dee Vee Dee about ‘ow to improve me foreplooy techniques. It was really greaaaat… I ‘ad ter fast forward past tha boren’ bit at tha beginnen’ though. This mornen I troid ter goo ter me premature ejaculation support group... turns ert it's tomorrer. No wonder Phoebe keep callin’ me rough rough.”
Suddenly, the dog started mauling Farquaad. Uncle Vikesh intervened, subduing it with a PEDIGREE! “ME HAD STOP BITCH BLEED YOU DRY. SPEAK OF WHICH, YOU MATCH VALERIY RICHTER UPRISING. YOU NEED BE BAD BOY IN TALK. KILL!”
Farquaad pondered with concern. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of raw meat. As he chewed, it appeared strangely human. Nigel was dumfounded.
“Alright Valeriy babs. I mus’ admit, you catch me eye. Almost as much as dwarves with umbrellas. We’m both really normal blokes. But yow knoo there’s summat ELECTRIC between us!”
“Is Valerie your real wife?”
“No, ‘es a wrestla and ‘is ‘eart is with Wendi Richter. So I pretended ter help him find 'er. Sorry I loid, Valeriy, an' dove us both into the electric circuit board. I just wanted ter see if I cud conduct yaw electromagnetic manipulation powers.”
Vikash piped up. “HE NOT HE STILL PUNY TAPEWORM”.
“That's not nice Uncle, Valeriy’s a bostin geezer. We'm well similar innit. Loike me, he's cum ter America ter chase his dreams. His hero's Wendi Richter, me inspiration's Jeffrey Dahmer. Ee foights bears, I foight bare.”
“NO NOT VALERIY, I TALK ABOUT YOU. YOU PUNY TAPEWORM NEED TO VERBAL SKULLFUCK VALERIY BEFORE UPRISING!”
“I can’t do it. Me brain's incapable of speakin’ unpleasant. Bloody Mari-joo-arrnaaa. Yow shoot plooyse Uncle.”
Nigel cowered as Uncle Vikesh perched his humongous derriere on the desk. It collapsed. He boomed ominously:
“VALERIY UKRANIAN SHIT. FARQUAAD FRIENDLY FIRE SO DESTRUCT HE QUAKE OFF YOU RICHTER SCALE. PAIN SO BAD WENDI FEEL IT VICARIOUS WHEREVER SHE ARE. CHERNOBYL BE BABY FART COMPARE TO FARQUAAD RIP THROUGH YOU. YOU WISH RADIATION POISON KILL YOU WHEN HE WRESTLE!”
Farquaad turned to Nigel upon his and Vikesh’s exit, noticing him gazing helplessly at the whippet left motionless on his floor. “Ta bab yaouw really ‘elped.”
“Farquaad, would you prefer to reschedule to a time more convenient for your wife?” Nigel queried. “Nah babs, me wench’s comin”. The door opened and an elderly, even more rotund Bengali led a whippet into the room. It barked loudly and excitedly mounted Farquaad, tonguing him with gusto.
“Aw Phoebe, yam licken’ me face so bostin’!” he squealed with delight. “This is a joke! You’re nuts!”. “She ain’t licked me nuts in yonks, that’s why we’m eya”. Nigel rose indignantly, held the door open and asserted “Sir, I am a marriage counsellor, not an animal psychologist! Goodbye!”. The older man slammed the door with unearthly strength. Nigel quivered. “WE PAY GOOD MONEY YOU HELP THEM OR I SMASH”. Nigel nodded, sitting back down.
“Sorry abart Uncle Vikesh, he just been on a positive thinken’ course for ‘is anger isshooows”. “IT SHIT” Vikesh yelled. Nigel diverted the focus – “So Mr. Fire, when did the problems between you and your… wife start?”
Farquaad stroked the dog, now growling aggressively. “It begun when she begged me fer sex with those puppy eyes. I ‘ad to disappoint ‘er… we had sex. Anover time duren oral, I accidentally kicked 'er an' she bit me on the bollocks. Uncle Vikesh said 'it's karma', I said 'no, if anythen she’s even mower angry'”.
Nigel shook his head. “I must say, sex with animals is wrong, at least in my eyes”.
“Of course mayyyte… it’s much betta up tha bum then in yaw eyes.”
Uncle Vikesh glared at Nigel to conform. He obliged, stroking his chin in feigned professional contemplation. “Clearly your issue's that of sexual compatibility. Have you tried anything to nurture intimacy?”
“I bought a Dee Vee Dee about ‘ow to improve me foreplooy techniques. It was really greaaaat… I ‘ad ter fast forward past tha boren’ bit at tha beginnen’ though. This mornen I troid ter goo ter me premature ejaculation support group... turns ert it's tomorrer. No wonder Phoebe keep callin’ me rough rough.”
Suddenly, the dog started mauling Farquaad. Uncle Vikesh intervened, subduing it with a PEDIGREE! “ME HAD STOP BITCH BLEED YOU DRY. SPEAK OF WHICH, YOU MATCH VALERIY RICHTER UPRISING. YOU NEED BE BAD BOY IN TALK. KILL!”
Farquaad pondered with concern. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of raw meat. As he chewed, it appeared strangely human. Nigel was dumfounded.
“Alright Valeriy babs. I mus’ admit, you catch me eye. Almost as much as dwarves with umbrellas. We’m both really normal blokes. But yow knoo there’s summat ELECTRIC between us!”
“Is Valerie your real wife?”
“No, ‘es a wrestla and ‘is ‘eart is with Wendi Richter. So I pretended ter help him find 'er. Sorry I loid, Valeriy, an' dove us both into the electric circuit board. I just wanted ter see if I cud conduct yaw electromagnetic manipulation powers.”
Vikash piped up. “HE NOT HE STILL PUNY TAPEWORM”.
“That's not nice Uncle, Valeriy’s a bostin geezer. We'm well similar innit. Loike me, he's cum ter America ter chase his dreams. His hero's Wendi Richter, me inspiration's Jeffrey Dahmer. Ee foights bears, I foight bare.”
“NO NOT VALERIY, I TALK ABOUT YOU. YOU PUNY TAPEWORM NEED TO VERBAL SKULLFUCK VALERIY BEFORE UPRISING!”
“I can’t do it. Me brain's incapable of speakin’ unpleasant. Bloody Mari-joo-arrnaaa. Yow shoot plooyse Uncle.”
Nigel cowered as Uncle Vikesh perched his humongous derriere on the desk. It collapsed. He boomed ominously:
“VALERIY UKRANIAN SHIT. FARQUAAD FRIENDLY FIRE SO DESTRUCT HE QUAKE OFF YOU RICHTER SCALE. PAIN SO BAD WENDI FEEL IT VICARIOUS WHEREVER SHE ARE. CHERNOBYL BE BABY FART COMPARE TO FARQUAAD RIP THROUGH YOU. YOU WISH RADIATION POISON KILL YOU WHEN HE WRESTLE!”
Farquaad turned to Nigel upon his and Vikesh’s exit, noticing him gazing helplessly at the whippet left motionless on his floor. “Ta bab yaouw really ‘elped.”