The Billancourt Boycotters embargoed the Feast of the Redeemer, claiming that rather than redeeming the Redeemer kept those who sought redemption in the dark. ‘its all rather complicated’ said the head Boycotter, ‘so don’t go thinking we have the answer, no one does... not even God!’ A portly woman curdled down the sideways, her bawling child in tow. ‘he has the answer’ she said pointing at the child, ‘gimme a fiver and I get him to tell you’. ‘feathers and shit flying every which where’. The bawling child fell into a stupor before he could divulge it, his back teeth grinding like a corn-wheel. The bawling boy’s da, Tavkozlesi Szolgaltato, has the answer, but seldom leaves his cottage outside the five-mile. Stop that nattering; pull up your socks and get on with it! This isn’t a feast, for Jesus’ sake, it’s a free-for-all, a stick in the eye-for-all! Smucks! She rode the mule upside down, her pubis grinding the mule’s rump. Get out of the way… scoot! Give her some room, for the love of God! Can’t you see she’s faltering? Give way for Christ Almighty! Give way!
When he was a boy his da fried up calf’s liver with boiled onions, mashing the liver and onions into a placental hash. He had to eat what was on his plate; refusal to do so would incur his da’s wrath, his temper flaring like a Mayday Roman Candle. ‘but da it tastes like metal’. ‘stop your snivelling and eat’ his da would command, the veins on his forehead bulging. Alberto Blanco, Czarne Gonzalo Rojas, Pizarro Alberto Garrandés and Jesús Rogelio Curbelo met at the Wydawnictwo Riveron motel under dark of night, each man having in his possession a woman’s handbag in which was stowed a red whore’s glove. Jesús Rogelio Curbelo, being a man of little patience said loudly ‘enough’s enough, sit down gentlemen please’.
When he was a boy his da fried up calf’s liver with boiled onions, mashing the liver and onions into a placental hash. He had to eat what was on his plate; refusal to do so would incur his da’s wrath, his temper flaring like a Mayday Roman Candle. ‘but da it tastes like metal’. ‘stop your snivelling and eat’ his da would command, the veins on his forehead bulging. Alberto Blanco, Czarne Gonzalo Rojas, Pizarro Alberto Garrandés and Jesús Rogelio Curbelo met at the Wydawnictwo Riveron motel under dark of night, each man having in his possession a woman’s handbag in which was stowed a red whore’s glove. Jesús Rogelio Curbelo, being a man of little patience said loudly ‘enough’s enough, sit down gentlemen please’.
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