“It’s for you”, shouted The Lady Sanne, hurling the mighty ancient bronze Taighliaghphonnaigh Handenpucett made in China across the great bedroom she shared with the Hero Mogens, resplendent in his M&S Special Edition Pyjamas. A dozen or so of Sanne’s young paramours fled the scene to afford her conversation some privacy, also for the avoidance of multiple injuries and lesser contusions. Rubbing some docken leaf and other rare condiments ruefully into a mildly compound temporal fracture, Mogens picked up the Taighliaghphonnaigh and bellowed politely, “Vass you vant, fuck-face!!!”
“Congratulations,” said a voice, evidently originating in Vineland, “You have won a magnificent Trophy!”
In a slight temper, Mogens smashed the mighty bronze Taighliaghphonnaigh made in China device against a wall of the stout-built castle, dislodging tons of granitic basaltic igneous metamorphosenish rocky blocks, which cascaded down the hill crushing 82 villages, 37 peasants, a multitude of oxen, innumerable pottery works, three crates of Carlsberg Speziale and a small souvenir statue intended to resemble the Duke of Edinburgh.
“Bastard kalt kollers!” fumed Mogens unhappily, “Ik vill get them for disturbing my somniferous kipping opportunities, with secondary causation of cerebral kontra-coup injuries of the brains also.”
“Hmmm,” replied Sanne, “How about we mount a Hexpedizione til de Far Vest? Then we can find that booger of the Congratulatory Kalt Kolling and stick his Taighliaghphonnaigh uppen hims Erse in an extended Ceremony, subsequently stringen along behind longenbooot met Taighliaghphonnaigh Vire.”
“Ent meanwhiles,” mused Mogens, “An astonishing Kurse & Fatt-Waugh vill ve hurle at him and alle his Kuntly Kind. Yess, may he be stricken doon with the heeby-jeebies, telephonist’s wrist, the White Skoor. Leprosy of the Eyeballs, may that severely attack his vision hypermetropically ASAP, & may all his personal fluiddes be either dried up or excessively secreted, whichever is the more embarrassing in polite Kompanie at the Earliest Opportunity.”
“I’ll juist phone the Shamanistic Practitioner Practice, Massive Kursen en Spezialtie” sez the Lady Sanne. “Hev dju seen the Taighliaghphonnaigh?”
Copyright © Donnie Ross 2011
Warning: contains violence, foul language, religious references and a complete disregard for oriental communicative devices. It's funny though.
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