Alcho-mo-hol is wunce again one of the major food groops and that makesh me shoooo happy.
Wish I could shay the same about my experiencshes (whoah, need a raincoat for that word) at the commune.
It all went pear-shaped, or maybe I shuld shay bear-shaped (ahahahaha) when I was cheditating (that’sh meditating while you eat cheese) during a visit to the yogi. In the middle of my transhe the yogi shaid “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
Something inshide me snappd. He was ushing clichés!!!!! Cliches - the arch nemnemi …the arch nesmes ….the.arch neminmes ….. the arch enemy of creative thought. Don’t talk to me in clichés Yogi, I thought. A cliché to me is like a red rag to a bull.
Cliché – I bet there’sh sum poor kid out there whose crinminally misguided parents thought that would be an awesum Christian name. “Thish ish my daughter Cliché Rhododendron Academia Potts” – throwing in the cruellest of acronymsh for good meashur.
And then the shtuped bear said ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’!!!
Aarrrgggg. Another of the shuckers!!! I was sho angry everything went red, quite literally – red with flashes of shilver (though, in retroshpect, that might have had shomething to do with the new type of mushroom the commune had dishcovered).
It turnsh out that what doeshn’t kill you can give you a darn good wallop and knock you off your shtupid branch.
It all went downhill from there. The bl00dy hobbits had been watching me from the bushes and they weren’t amused at me throwing sticks at the yogi.
The furry little buggas may not be that tall but they shwing a punch at a dangerous height. The sort of height that getsh fathersh and their children on funniesht home videosh.
Anyway, after a brief and remarkably painful period of bending over and sheeing double I began my journey of 1000 miles with a whole sheries of shmall shteps, taken at great shpeed.
I found my car along the way, don’t ask me where it had got to but at leasht it had the decency to look sheepish and, other than a brief period in something called a rehabilitation centre where I had to get over a shtrange adickwillytion (thought this shounded less rude) I had acquired to green peas, the journey home was uneventful.
But the story doesn’t end there. Shtrangest of all – I woke on the final morning to discover I was living in a share-house, just down the road in Smith’s Lake, and that four weeks of my life couldn’t be accounted for. Apparently this isn’t that uncommon an experience in Smith’s Lake. Whole lifetimesh can disappear there. At leasht I’m pretty shure I washn’t abducted by aliens becaushe my bottom didn’t feel sore.
Sho, it turns out it was all just a dream. Or was it?
[Fade to eerie “Twilight Zone” music]
P.S. No koalash or hobbits were harmed during thish experience. Not sho sure about braincells though.
P.P.S. My hobbit therapissed tellsh me I’m making excellent progressh.
And that bringsh another Febfasht to an end for another year. It will come around again all too fasht, for all of ush. In the meantime why not conshider donating to the caushe which is a sheriously good one and a donationsh may jusht shave shome of you from the fiery pitsh of Hell (though to be honesht mosht of you are probably a losht cause). Anyway, if you feel like doing good then donate to:
https://febfast2013.everydayhero.com/au/chris-jones
Yours affectionately - Gandalf
Wish I could shay the same about my experiencshes (whoah, need a raincoat for that word) at the commune.
It all went pear-shaped, or maybe I shuld shay bear-shaped (ahahahaha) when I was cheditating (that’sh meditating while you eat cheese) during a visit to the yogi. In the middle of my transhe the yogi shaid “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
Something inshide me snappd. He was ushing clichés!!!!! Cliches - the arch nemnemi …the arch nesmes ….the.arch neminmes ….. the arch enemy of creative thought. Don’t talk to me in clichés Yogi, I thought. A cliché to me is like a red rag to a bull.
Cliché – I bet there’sh sum poor kid out there whose crinminally misguided parents thought that would be an awesum Christian name. “Thish ish my daughter Cliché Rhododendron Academia Potts” – throwing in the cruellest of acronymsh for good meashur.
And then the shtuped bear said ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’!!!
Aarrrgggg. Another of the shuckers!!! I was sho angry everything went red, quite literally – red with flashes of shilver (though, in retroshpect, that might have had shomething to do with the new type of mushroom the commune had dishcovered).
It turnsh out that what doeshn’t kill you can give you a darn good wallop and knock you off your shtupid branch.
It all went downhill from there. The bl00dy hobbits had been watching me from the bushes and they weren’t amused at me throwing sticks at the yogi.
The furry little buggas may not be that tall but they shwing a punch at a dangerous height. The sort of height that getsh fathersh and their children on funniesht home videosh.
Anyway, after a brief and remarkably painful period of bending over and sheeing double I began my journey of 1000 miles with a whole sheries of shmall shteps, taken at great shpeed.
I found my car along the way, don’t ask me where it had got to but at leasht it had the decency to look sheepish and, other than a brief period in something called a rehabilitation centre where I had to get over a shtrange adickwillytion (thought this shounded less rude) I had acquired to green peas, the journey home was uneventful.
But the story doesn’t end there. Shtrangest of all – I woke on the final morning to discover I was living in a share-house, just down the road in Smith’s Lake, and that four weeks of my life couldn’t be accounted for. Apparently this isn’t that uncommon an experience in Smith’s Lake. Whole lifetimesh can disappear there. At leasht I’m pretty shure I washn’t abducted by aliens becaushe my bottom didn’t feel sore.
Sho, it turns out it was all just a dream. Or was it?
[Fade to eerie “Twilight Zone” music]
P.S. No koalash or hobbits were harmed during thish experience. Not sho sure about braincells though.
P.P.S. My hobbit therapissed tellsh me I’m making excellent progressh.
And that bringsh another Febfasht to an end for another year. It will come around again all too fasht, for all of ush. In the meantime why not conshider donating to the caushe which is a sheriously good one and a donationsh may jusht shave shome of you from the fiery pitsh of Hell (though to be honesht mosht of you are probably a losht cause). Anyway, if you feel like doing good then donate to:
https://febfast2013.everydayhero.com/au/chris-jones
Yours affectionately - Gandalf
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