Speef Narkle

Smiegel


FlashBack Enema
The following is an excerpt from Bleef the Grugs, a book that I have finished writing but have yet to be published. The entire book in txt form can be viewed here.

Beware the Siberian Fishmonger
After a couple bottles of shitty vodka, even the thickest language barrier usually finds a common denominator in stick drawings or in this case, a sort of demented sign language. A couple summers ago while lounging first class on the Trans Siberian Express, my Uncle Mort and I found ourselves acting out a moronic fly fishing skit to one of the drunken passengers. It seemed we were communicating rather effectively, and deduced that he must have been a fish trader because he smelled like rotten scrod and kept making these hand motions like a card dealer. So we're all laughing ordering more “wodka” and exchanging stories and he pulls out a wad of batteries and starts swallowing them and chasing with alcohol, grimacing and groaning the whole time. We figure that this must have been a traditional ethnic practice rarely witnessed by Westerners, but then I noticed everybody else clearing out of the dining car. The bloke starts rumbling and I move to the side in case he launches a torrent of vomitus, instead his neck starts smoking and he keels over and passes out.
Without thinking, Uncle Mort tosses ice water on the unconscious sot and he slowly rolls over on his stomach, lets out a yell and sends a lazer beam farting out his ass. The thing must have been a half inch in diameter in an ice cold blue, and I'm thinking 'that's a rude way of communicating.' Right about now my Uncle and I get the idea that this guy isn't quite normal and we decide to head back to our cabin. But the guy starts chasing us shuffling on all fours backward trying to slice us in half with his thermonuclear ass cannon. Fortunately he wasn't fast enough and we made it to the KGB agent that was guiding our tour and she immediately put a stop to the madness.
When the trip was over we said goodbye to all the great friends we had made, and to show our thanks to the tour guide, we gave her a used Sports Illustrated Football Phone.
 


speef@dreamscan.com