"Shalt thou not lend unbelievable conspiracy duck
views, ktb, free, corpse, female comedianne, judaism, nuns, discrimination, greatest, middle east blogs, islam, literature, galleries, conspiracy duck, I look down and my knees are like ruddy ears, laughing at my plight. My toes are in knots that shall take weeks to untangle. My shins hum with static, barking at one another. The sound is unbearable. My breasts kick angrily downwards at my thighs, while in between, my sweet vagina weeps..."Carol went on like this for a while. When she had finished I couldn't think of an adequate retort so I yielded to her unbelievable demands and invited unbelievable her in. I sat playing Emlyn Hughes International Soccer on my Sinclair unbelievable ZX Spectrum +3 for a couple of hours while she sniffed at my neck. "This should keep her going for a few more months," I thought to myself. (stusut79, Tue 13 Sep 2005, 11:43) Not a story, just an observation I think being a mother-in-law is actually a genetic condition, and you can't help it.My mum is ace, she has a heart of gold and I really couldn't have picked a better one, she's readily available for tea and sympathy, takes me shopping when I'm poor, and cooks the best fish pie under the sun.
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"Shalt thou not lend me thine shoulder that I may inhale thy sickly scent?" I knew what she wanted. Even though her daughter's ashes had been scattered liberally around the Disney Store in Manchester's Arndale Centre almost three years previously, Carol still maintained that conspiracy duck she could smell her on me. "Carol," I conspiracy duck pleaded. "Thou conspiracy duck art mother in law and in law alone. Not in heart, nor mind, nor breast. Not in blood, nor milk, nor in the eyes of the Lord."Carol would not be told. "But sire, I implore ye! Thou art my son in law and in deed, in memory and in soul. My need to smell the floral tones of my daughter's loins from the nape of thine waxy neck is volcanic in its magnitude and brutal in its dogged determination. I awake under moonlight, bile gargling like cold tea in the well of my parched throat. I retch in the darkness.
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