From: joemahoney1950@gmail.com   
      
   My fellow fellaters of the florid fungus, this I'm about to share with you is   
   one o' my last memries of Dad before he ascendered to the Trump Rally in the   
   sky.     
      
   Dad, if you're watcherin' down, this one's for you...   
      
   So, shortly afta my famly settled into our new town of Halifax Maxichusipp's,   
   wheya Dad felt right at home, cuz theya was no libries or book-stowa's or   
   soshlism of any kind (also every restrint in town serbs one thing: pizza, and   
   all the beeya they offa    
   is Bud, Bud Lite, Cooas, or Milla -- no communist dock stuff), I met my nayba,   
   Timmy.  Timmy King.   
      
   So he invitered me ova, and we smoked dope, turned on the Van Halen, and   
   jerked each otha off, while the wondaful aroma of pig manure (his dad was a   
   fomma) filled our nostrilments.  And befo' I ambled back to my house for a   
   meal of lasanya, hot pockets,    
   pizza, and gollick bread, all washed down widda few 6-packs of Mountin Dew, he   
   mentioned "Oh by the way, my name's Timmy.  Timmy King."     
      
   So, while I was perparin a nice suppa, suddenly I heard a dowa slam and the   
   familya sound of profanities utt'd in a falsetto voice echoed through the   
   naybahood.  Dad was home.  And he was HUNGRY.   
      
   Now while Dad was swiggin down some Bud Lite's and waiterin fo the microwave   
   to cook up his lasanya, I mentioned to him (Joe Mahoney Seenya) that the   
   neighbas was pig fomma's and they's name was the King's.   
      
   Dad froze.  "The King's?"     
      
   "Yes, dad, I uttered, spewin a few chunks of Hot Pockit as I spoke.  "The   
   King's."     
      
   Dad belched loudly then wandid outside and stayad into the King's yod,   
   inhalerin the wondafull aroma of pig manooa.  "King's are to be respected," he   
   said.  "The rule the land."     
      
   And every time Dad mentioned the King's, he did so with the uttermist   
   erspeck.  And evry time he drove by, he would staya jnto theya yod and pig   
   fom, with supreme fassernatchims.   
      
   One day, while I was stoned in bed, my mom nocked on my doah, and asked with   
   supreme anxiety wheya dad was.     
      
   "I dunno, Moms," I said, "I got no dears."     
      
   "Well, will you please find him, Joe Joonya?  I'm worried.  And he hasn't used   
   his dildos on me tonite."     
      
   Dad hadn't used his dildos?  Sumthin had ta be wrong!     
      
   So I swilled a couple of Bud Lite's for courage, pulled on a paya of pance,   
   grabbed a flasherlite, and headed out doah's.     
      
      
   I heard some sounds and noticed a commotion next doah in the King's yod.     
      
   I went down, and theya was the POLICE and the King's, aimin flaserlites in the   
   King's pig fom!     
      
   And theya, in the middle of the sty, crawlerin around naked on all fours,   
   smeared in mud and pig excfremeent, was Dad!     
      
   One of the cops axed Dad to identerfy himself.  Dad, without misserin a beat,   
   answad as follers:   
      
   "Moo, I'm a pig, oink I'm a hoarse, bah I'm a sheep."     
      
   The Cops and King's looked at each otha, slightly puzzled.     
      
   But Dad contuned, rollin around that massive 350 5'6" body of his, and   
   continued louda and louda:     
      
   "Moo, I'm a pig, Oink I'm a hoss, Bah I'm asleep!"   
      
   They finely took Dad in, I fergit wheya, but I din't see him agin foe a few   
   days.     
      
   And mom was REEL upset.  Cuz she dint get no dildo the hole time.   
      
   Joe "Moo" Mahoney   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)