It Burns.
We arrived in the strange new land, 10 million leagues away as the seabird flies (as you know it flies very sillyley, silleeeeyleey often wheeling about in one place for a good few hours, going back the way it came for a few million leagues, sitting down on the ocean for a while for a meal of anchovies).
But we got here.
It was amazing to see how the trees were somewhat the same, the grass, hmm, exactly the same, cars and footpaths, people with eyes, shops, Ronald McDonald sitting nonchalantly, polystyrenely on park benches, come here lucky little kiddies.
Almost immediately we were locals, sitting on trams and trains with vacant expressions, glancing through the gossip rags at the 'love wanted' ads:
"To the girl in the orange stripey hat with the massive melons on the Chewberry line, your bazoongas are enormous, I'm in love, from the spotty git who was staring at them, 5-6pm, Saturday"
"To the exotic, golden haired, dark skinned girl on the Cockburn Street train, your eyes are pools of chocolate, is it the same with your lower eye? Charles, Lilydick."
People from our country are the nasty bastards here. Sarcastic, snide, closed off. The kind of people who make fun of heartfelt love pleas from people on trains.
But now the military are making robots that fly around in flies bodies and mate with eachother to make more flybots, and they will kill all the dissenters so its gonna all be okay.
Make love on trains. The flies wont watch you. Its a new future of joy.
But we got here.
It was amazing to see how the trees were somewhat the same, the grass, hmm, exactly the same, cars and footpaths, people with eyes, shops, Ronald McDonald sitting nonchalantly, polystyrenely on park benches, come here lucky little kiddies.
Almost immediately we were locals, sitting on trams and trains with vacant expressions, glancing through the gossip rags at the 'love wanted' ads:
"To the girl in the orange stripey hat with the massive melons on the Chewberry line, your bazoongas are enormous, I'm in love, from the spotty git who was staring at them, 5-6pm, Saturday"
"To the exotic, golden haired, dark skinned girl on the Cockburn Street train, your eyes are pools of chocolate, is it the same with your lower eye? Charles, Lilydick."
People from our country are the nasty bastards here. Sarcastic, snide, closed off. The kind of people who make fun of heartfelt love pleas from people on trains.
But now the military are making robots that fly around in flies bodies and mate with eachother to make more flybots, and they will kill all the dissenters so its gonna all be okay.
Make love on trains. The flies wont watch you. Its a new future of joy.
posted by Face at 6:03 AM
3 Comments:
I thought of having insects like that before they were invented. I couldn't be bothered to patent the idea. I prefer edible ones anyway. So Face, dear, have you emigrated? To big bad Australia?
Sssssh, I'm supposed to be incognito. I suppose the link was a dead giveaway. Foiled again by detective Bananas.
don't let me see you making love on the train or i'm going to have to snide your head off.
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