Chapter 18, Pygmies know best!

Funny story written by Jaggedone

Thursday, 21 October 2010


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image for Chapter 18, Pygmies know best!
Last spotted heading towards the rising sun, BANZAI!

The sun burnt down with impunity as a gentle west, south west breeze lifted the ripples alongside the log float causing a fata-morgana of fluffy gay white, furry Father Christmas's to dance upon the waves.

Exitus from the deep, dark, bat hung caverns of Masterchev's inner psyche proved more difficult than expected.

The race to find IT, The Oracle of all that matters and once mattered stumbled to a halt upon the frying pans of the Spoof's 5 star Michelin Maniac.

Proving once more that sanity is just a figment of the imagination and insanity is where the foundation of all is to be found?

The remaining intrepid Spoofers became victims of their own determination to find IT; luckily the local DIY store had some logs to burn and several lashings of streaky bacon to tie them together.

Dashing for the pebbled beach below Brighton pier, queer, and determined to escape via high tide as moonbeams divulged the bodies of several couples on their evening jaunt (not in a gay way) upon the queer pier wrestling for breath in the sea air blowing heavily:

Freedom! Jehovah witnessed as the "Bats out of Hell" pursued (bats hate water).

Parched, sunburnt and delirious, the bats were avoided and now, water, water, all around and none to drink!

Jean was the first to hallucinate and beg for a sip of the remaing rain water that had gathered without moss, "don't worry Jean" a soothing voice broke the morning silence, "here take my ration, I need not, Stella or Heineken?" asked Skoob.

The listless log raft drifted aimlessly amongst the still ocean when suddenly CJ screamed in horror, "shit" he cried, "that fucking seagull crapped in my eye, I spy!"

"Land they all cried, it must be land, seagulls never fly far from land, we are saved, hurraah!"

Jubilent scenes were witnessed as everybody rocked the boat to Bob Marley's "No Woman No Cry".

Skoob the old Sea Dog, as usual always prepared, grabbed his mighty telescope from behind, "low and behold laddies, land in sight, he puked! (alas, too many Stella's)

The remaining survivors fantasised of hula-hula girls bare bosomed in grass skirts whilst the one female left, Katarina the reptilian, dreamt of huge black Can-he-balls offering huge bunches of grapes and bananas a lá Lynford Christie.

Christopher Columbus failed, the Spoof (red white army) never.

As the log raft beached a disturbing noise crescendoed towards them, the sound of barking, wild Pitbulls, "dammit" bellowed Birbee, "my flipping compass was wrongly Poled and it lead us to the only island which I never ever wanted to land upon, the dreaded Isle of Dogs, AAAAAGH!"

Offering gifts of points, The sun and other tabloids to the natives, (Millwall fans polishing their bovver boots because West Ham was just around the corner) they approached hesitantly!

The natives, being able neither to read or speak in a comprehensible tongue, snatched the gifts whilst their mighty scarred and very ugly chief approached from behind.

Tatooed from head to foot with Nazi swastikas and "we hate fucking Cockney Reds", seven feet tall (without his boots on), he offered a limp hand to JO, Mon Dieu!

The air could have been cut with a machete as large and stiff as Eddie Murphy's dick as the 2 eyeballed each other, whilst CJ and the rest of the Spoof Bravehearts stood their ground (they must have been pissed).

Suddenly a soft, brogue voice sailed across the deadly scenario, EQ, that dastardly, Oxford educated Cad stepped between the two arch rivals and in a perfect German accent said:

"Sir ve are searching for ze Oracle of all zings, wisdom und Spooferitis, vere is it, Dummkopf und imbecilic Inglorious Bastard (who?)?"

Reduced to a wobbling bowl of Birds Eye rasberry Jelly the giant hooligan quivered, fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness for him and all of the WHU fans he had ever annihilated.

"Messiah, zis is ze wrong island you need Borneo, land of the pygmies, headhunters and cannibals, zer lies ze oracle, nichts here" (Kraut Millwall fans, whatever next???)

Ther intrepid Spoof army returned to their leaking log raft not knowing what the future may hold (and the streaky bacon also) and drifted silently seewards towards their destiny with the truth.

"No tide, low tide or high tide will ever relinquish our quest until we find IT," dabbled Charpa silently as the skull and crossbones was raised and they headed eastwards towards the rising sun, Banzai!

The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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