Why Did You Have To Piss Yourself?

I was driving my car down the mean streets of Gardens yesterday, bobbing my head to the cool sounds of DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince, whilst picking my nose and flicking it out the window in one graceful movement. The dry air ensured I was kept fairly busy, and I had made steady and satisfactory progress by the time I reached the traffic lights.

There you staggered over, draped in a giant poster with John Smit's face on it. You never said a word to me, you just came to my window, looked down at the poster and stared back at me, shaking your Spur styrofoam cup in the process.

Is that it?

Was that your pitch?

I'm supposed to give you money because of your vague reference to the Rugby World Cup win?

Come now buddy, the feel good factor is already starting to wear out. I'm not going to dive around looking for loose change for you, just because you have a rugby poster attached to your body. Especially seeing as I saw you just the other day, drunk on metholated spirits, lying on the pavement where you literally pissed yourself.


Homeless Guy - Letting Down The Team

That's right, don't you feel sheepish now? I saw you on Saturday at the Stop Street, I was just about to give you my leftover Barcelo's chicken special burger with Very Peri sauce. Then you fell over, and I saw the wee literally running down your leg. I was so appalled I gave the food to your mate with the titanium leg instead.

I was VERY disappointed when I saw you like that. I thought you were a respectable bergie (vagrant). You had that lovely grey beard which gave you a statesman-like air about you. Now the only air you have is the pungent smell of urine. I am NOT going to give you money, I am just going to pick my nose and flick it at you.

Take that you disgusting little man.



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