Bumpy bump went the wheel as it bounced. This wheel went bump because the master of its circumference smashed this poor little wheel against a gutter. Smashed it at such a pace it tore the circle out of it, it now bumped, then came to a stop and sat. It was obvious, the old woman is drunk.
The culprit was a large lonely old woman and although she didn’t live in a shoe, she had no idea of what to do. She was in her early seventies who had seen far too much sun, while smoking far too many cigarettes. Her lips and moustache were like a river delta of sagging skin and her leathery appearance gave her a winning lizard like impersonation. A lizard that had been out in the sun too long, that is. She was in no fit state, in mind or body.
A different view
Her view on life gave an impersonation of a pig ignorant buffoon. One that saw the world but didn’t understand any part of part, aside from the mundane, women’s magazine gossipy view of life that advertising agencies mainlined on. Operating within mindless gossip and pig ignorance, a clear lack of tolerance or even love. This woman was plumped up by her addiction to the pokies, or slots as they’re called in America.
She wanted to win enough money to go to America and join the famous bible belt set in Arizona. The Tea Party was right up her street she thought, she loved Sarah Palin. she also loved Australia’s version of this simple minded fifties view on life – the perennial politician called Pauline Hanson.
This lizard lady was quite racist, homophobic, xenophobic and just plain backward in her thinking. That backward in fact she thought that winning on the pokies would change her life. She wanted to change, although she was blissfully unaware of the really important bits of her twisted existence that should be changed.
She didn’t even get up from the winning streak on the pokies to go to the ladies, she just wet herself in the seat rather than leave the machine. The staff had to deal with this DNA deposit after she’d gone, every bloody day.
The old woman is drunk
On her perilous journey back to the driveway of her modest 3 bedroom cottage in the western suburbs, she wondered why the car was behaving so strangely. The car wouldn’t drive straight, or turn the corner when she finally realised she should and it steered so heavily to the right all the way home. It matched her dim witted political stance as well, as it turned out.
Finally she made it home and while struggling to get out of the car promptly fell into the garden. Eight bourbons and coke didn’t help her driving, walking or speech as she screamed at the house asking for help. It didn’t answer.
No help came of course. She was so pissed that she had forgotten her husband had walked out and left her and that the children moved away in disgust. That left the cat sitting on the front patio and he couldn’t do anything of course. She sat in the garden for four hours and endured the rain. Endured only because she had passed out. The cat moved inside and watched while warm and dry, from the front window. It seemed to smile. The neighbours found her as they wandered down the street on their way to work.
The younger brother observed the bitter pissed old bat.
“Why the crap does she wipe herself out so much and what is that smell ?” The smell could be described as manure, but it wasn’t from a four legged animal or even a two legged chicken, it was from a two legged old lizard and trust me this lizard shit stinks.
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