The Delineation of Lazy Dry-Anna by the Terrible Broil Family

Wan slight & sleazy mourning, a very bedevilled Primps Churls takes up, and rumpled up in those, him’s quixotic satan sheeps, he explained, “Me ex-whiff, Lazy Dry-Anna, the dishonourable Primpess of Gales, is going to Bob Marley a muesli: the kittle brown-brothered shack-stacker…what am’s I gong till do, for we’s, the Broil Family, cannot allow within r’ tanks, not even by expropriation with whiffy, a ruddy muesli!”

So’s he a lightered from his tomb and made his way down into the bowls of Suckinghim’s Phallus, wherebyupon he found his Mummy & Daddy, the Queer of Blingland and the Duck of Paed’-in-Barra, respectably.

 “Why, I have been on the squawkbox with yer Uncle Hubert from him’s The Cum Newsskins HQ,” duelled the Queer. “He tells she, thee, me, the Queer, I mean, that that accursed Lazy Dry-Anna is Bob Marley-ing a muesli: wan Did-He-Fire-Ed??!’

 “And that is connect, the Queer of Blingland, Mummy,” slithered Churls.

 “Well,” interspersed the Duck, “where are you going to do around it, lad?”

 “I haven’t the moggiest,” belied Churls.

 “Clucky now’s I start to shrink on it, that my old chumchum and good playfellow from the World War Deus and esteemed Ghastly Party, auld Boogaloo-7, still has his erections in the world of…drubbing out -” whiskered the Duck. 

“ – you mean delineation…of them’s you’ve dreamed…need to be delineated?!” Snickered Churls.

 “Exactimondo,” complied the Duck.

So ten-hundred minutes later, at each party’s earliest conveyancing, The Duck and Boogaloo-7, along with Primps Churls, – who be’s collared & with lead attached, accompanying on all fours the Duck across his blindside, – all met up in a grimly lit, precluded restaurant.

 Boogaloo-7 went first in squawking. “When I first enrolled in that special playfellow’s club, the Chem-High-Dicks, I remember chundering to one’s health, when shall I ever be to do a delineation?” 

 “And when were you to get to do one?” esquired the Duck. 

 “On a Moonday, the 31st^th of Sawdust, 48^th year of this the 20^th centurion. Which was on the second day of my parolement, intact.”  

 “Good date,” went the Duck, “for that is a very day we in the Broil Family haze dear Bollock, meek and silly field mouse Godthing of the Milky Way.”

 “That is shite,” agreed Boogaloo-7, “and it is a date that is reproaching, a date to haze the field mouse again, this time in our delineation of Lazy Dry-Anna!”

 “Resplendent!” crowed the Duck.

 “Woof! Woof!” barked Churls, beginning to gnash on a child’s sphincter, tossed to him unkindly by the Duck.

*

On the eve of the 31^st of Sawdust, 97^th year of this the 20^th centurion, the cum lashed Lazy Dry-Anna, the Primpess of Gales, queefed-out and much dreary, found herself aside the very engorged, vein ringed thallus of the world’s most famous muesli, Did-He-Fire-Ed? 

Did-He-Fire-Ed? were the son of the world’s second more famous muesli, More-Ham-&-Small-Fried-Eggs, a gallant and bed-early merchant of bricks-and-blacks, which were tumoured to be processed of digestible baste. 

More-Ham-&-Small-Fried-Eggs had these last few years, in pain, attempted to acquire a pisspart from the Queer and the Duck, a papers being within which contained the password what that granted him taxes terminally into Blingland’s bejowelled & septic isle. For as it were, he could only preside there for eight and a 5ths hours at a time every other leap year.

Moreover, however, but, it was the Queer and the Duck personably whom so mightily beheld the pisspart from the chest trawlin’ More-Ham-&-Small-Fried-Eggs, and this were for the ghost’s heart due to the stacked that sad More-Ham-&-Small-Fried-Egg’s were a brown-brother.

So, it were with a great deal of self-benefaction that the hirsute old traitor in bricks-and-blacks, a real old Sneaking Dom, spayed upon the fuckings of Lazy Dry-Anna and his son Did-He-Fire-Ed? through a secret deephole in his boy’s bedroom wall, all’s while thinking to hisself: this is how me will extract my avengeance against that Broil Family! My Did-He-Fire-Ed? will soon be stepgatherer to the next gentrification of Broil Families, those two half-hun Broil Brats, Billy & Barry!

Yet, comatosed to More-Ham-&-Small-Fried-Eggs, his avengeance would not be extracted this way at all, as Boogaloo-7 had intrinsically set in lotion already an electorate delineation plan aimed at drubbing out not only Lazy Dry-Anna, but Did-He-Fire-Ed? too, as well. 

A couple of hoors later, More-Ham-&-Small-Fried-Eggs, expunging in hardcore mastication at the thought of Lazy Dry-Anna fucking his son Did-He-Fire-Ed?, [alongside with a sad smut prole bearing a mismatched latex Gordon Strachan, completely going blind mad in its fuckings] was got with the deadfall news that the pair had been made decreased by a stunt jump gone badly accidental in a Parish underrun.

Ingeniously, More-Ham-&-Fried-Eggs got fictitious in his thinking, thinking, I don’t think it were an accident, that. I think they were delineated! out loud, aloudly, for people to hear on a conspicuous banner.

Then, after gibbon that thought to rhyme, he surprised amongst a close esquiring into the Disparity Queries, something he were much called ridiculous because of by Uncle Hubert in his The Cum Newsskins:

“THAT DIM DJIN MORE-HAM-&-SMALL-FRIED-EGGS THINKS THAT PARISH STUNT SPECTACULAR WERE BROIL FAMILY DILINEATION!” 

– creamed the headlice. 

And this it seeds were enough to defer More-Ham-&-Small-Fried-Eggs in his Disparity Query surprisings, and now today he spends his time squawking with the spirit of his trustworthy chumchum Schmichael Blackson via ceaselessly playing the Luigi Chord. But, anyway, another hickory for Uncle Hubert and his The Cum Newsskins.

*

As soon as Lazy Dry-Anna’s brolly were flied back into the bland of Blingland the General Pubic at large went acting in unseen-before acts of very, very pubic sadding. It were like people were trying to complete with each other in the sadding stakes. 

And of course this were all in by the designs of the Broil Family and their ascendant sorcerer Boogaloo-7. For the energy denigrated by all the saddings around the Planet Turf were fed into the spirit belly of the Godthing, Bollock, who presided on the astro stain, there in his watchings of the Planet Turf. 

And in the mourning of the day of the funeral, Lazy Dry-Anna’s coughing were carried through the treats. Proles threw glowers at it, and at the gapes of Suckinghim’s Phallus, confused & hitherto feelingless man proles bred their first ever tears. 

And that day, Godthing Bollock were most nourished by this and much more, ensuring the Broil Family would feign for ‘nother hundred spheres, as the crow vomits.