• Welcome to BellGab.com Archive.
 

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)

Started by heater, December 19, 2013, 09:37:40 PM

Should this thread be removed from the forum?

Yes
1296 (66.7%)
No
647 (33.3%)

Total Members Voted: 1937

Fyodor Gutman

We're hearing reports that George has been talking with pro bono lawyers in the San Francisco area about launching suit against Michael Vandeven.

GravitySucks

Falkie gets hot and bothered while walking his audience through a ghost porn reading...

https://youtu.be/5FS9DUOxHy8

(Worldwide Press And Then Some) -- President Donald J. Trump, in addition to signing the tax-reform bill, took time to address another pressing issue in America today.



NO MORE "Going Full Retard On You Tube" for you-know-who.

Quote from: Happier Times are Coming on December 20, 2017, 09:31:18 PM

(damn, the United Nations could also...)
LOL

LOL! I just "had to do it" after your inspirational post. Something like this?:

At a recent General Assembly of the United Nations, a proposed resolution would say "NO MORE" to a certain online-video "personality" known for "Going Full Retard On You Tube."



ONeill

Fuck Senda with a moldboard plow, fuck Senda with a fully grown hedgehog, fuck Senda with a pneumatic drill, fuck Senda with a sand blaster. I am well aware that this might sound like a lot of fucking, but let me reiterate - fuck Senda, fuck Senda, FUCK SENDA!!!!

SergeantMajor

MERRY CHRISTMAS to all! May you have a wonderful Christmas.  If you have been bad, Santa Senda will visit you tonight and leave you kitty poop in your stocking.

WhiteCrow

Quote from: SergeantMajor on December 24, 2017, 01:37:43 PM
MERRY CHRISTMAS to all! May you have a wonderful Christmas.  If you have been bad, Santa Senda will visit you tonight and leave you kitty poop in your stocking.

Merry Christmas to all and a special holiday best wishes to MV and Falkie. My two favorite people in the whole wide world that I never met. Someday hope to. You guys bring us cheer throughout the year! Thank You both.

This is White Crow

Merry Christmas to everyone in the Falkie thread!  Best wishes from Ol' Gerry for a happy and festive holiday season, and I hope you have a wonderful new year too!

All hail The Master, George Senda!  Merry Christmas to The Guy From Pittsburgh (tm)!  Ho ho ho, jingle bells, figgy pudding, and all that jazz!

Have a great evening, folks, and a great day tomorrow!

Here's George's unboxing of the "Canadian Haul" that Mrs. Gerry and I sent him for Christmas earlier in the month in case any of you haven't seen it yet.   We had gone to Las Vegas in October, and George had humbly requested a souvenir since he once lived there, so that's why the Las Vegas items were in there too.

http://youtu.be/MEI645G-V1I

It's a good thing that the return address on the box was fake, given the way The Master was holding it right up to the camera!

chefist

Quote from: Open Lines Gerry on December 24, 2017, 11:05:35 PM
Merry Christmas to everyone in the Falkie thread!  Best wishes from Ol' Gerry for a happy and festive holiday season, and I hope you have a wonderful new year too!

All hail The Master, George Senda!  Merry Christmas to The Guy From Pittsburgh (tm)!  Ho ho ho, jingle bells, figgy pudding, and all that jazz!

Have a great evening, folks, and a great day tomorrow!

Here's George's unboxing of the "Canadian Haul" that Mrs. Gerry and I sent him for Christmas earlier in the month in case any of you haven't seen it yet.   We had gone to Las Vegas in October, and George had humbly requested a souvenir since he once lived there, so that's why the Las Vegas items were in there too.

http://youtu.be/MEI645G-V1I

It's a good thing that the return address on the box was fake, given the way The Master was holding it right up to the camera!

Merry Christmas...OLG...and all on the Musings thread...Hope George grants you all that you wish!

Norm

Quote from: Open Lines Gerry on December 24, 2017, 11:05:35 PM
Merry Christmas to everyone in the Falkie thread!  Best wishes from Ol' Gerry for a happy and festive holiday season, and I hope you have a wonderful new year too!

All hail The Master, George Senda!  Merry Christmas to The Guy From Pittsburgh (tm)!  Ho ho ho, jingle bells, figgy pudding, and all that jazz!

Have a great evening, folks, and a great day tomorrow!

Here's George's unboxing of the "Canadian Haul" that Mrs. Gerry and I sent him for Christmas earlier in the month in case any of you haven't seen it yet.   We had gone to Las Vegas in October, and George had humbly requested a souvenir since he once lived there, so that's why the Las Vegas items were in there too.

http://youtu.be/MEI645G-V1I

It's a good thing that the return address on the box was fake, given the way The Master was holding it right up to the camera!

Soon, Senda will become just another case for Medi-Cal Asset Recovery. The taxpayers will foot the bill for corpse disposal and cremation charges unless a generous friend steps up to the plate and pays the bill. I wonder who will it be?

WhiteCrow

Quote from: Open Lines Gerry on December 24, 2017, 11:05:35 PM
Merry Christmas to everyone in the Falkie thread!  Best wishes from Ol' Gerry for a happy and festive holiday season, and I hope you have a wonderful new year too!

All hail The Master, George Senda!  Merry Christmas to The Guy From Pittsburgh (tm)!  Ho ho ho, jingle bells, figgy pudding, and all that jazz!

Have a great evening, folks, and a great day tomorrow!

Here's George's unboxing of the "Canadian Haul" that Mrs. Gerry and I sent him for Christmas earlier in the month in case any of you haven't seen it yet.   We had gone to Las Vegas in October, and George had humbly requested a souvenir since he once lived there, so that's why the Las Vegas items were in there too.

http://youtu.be/MEI645G-V1I

It's a good thing that the return address on the box was fake, given the way The Master was holding it right up to the camera!

Thank you Jerry and your wonderful wife for being so thoughtful and making George's Christmas special.

Love ALL

WhiteCrow

Quote from: Norm on December 25, 2017, 03:44:45 AM
Soon, Senda will become just another case for Medi-Cal Asset Recovery. The taxpayers will foot the bill for corpse disposal and cremation charges unless a generous friend steps up to the plate and pays the bill. I wonder who will it be?

That would be a very kind act.. George gets excellant medical care so hopefully he will be with us for many more decades.

Norm

Quote from: WhiteCrow on December 25, 2017, 10:38:28 AM
That would be a very kind act.. George gets excellant medical care so hopefully he will be with us for many more decades.

Well, la dee dah.....




3OctaveFart

One of the best things ever written on this board. Merry Christmas to the Falkie thread.

Quote from: SredniVashtar on December 06, 2015, 06:19:48 AM
Falkie's Christmas Carol

Cast:

Anthony George Senda: 'Falkie' (A useless fat oaf/sponger)

Yorkshire Pud: 'Pud Scratchit' (An illegal immigrant, and Falkie's carer)
Michael Horn: 'Mini Mike' (His insane, appallingly ugly, midget son)

Who: 'Himself' ('The Voice of Conscience')

Falkie's Sister: 'Her/himself' (A cross-dressing, racist loan-shark)
Paladin1991: 'Mr Senda' (Her/his/its husband)


Stave One

Senda was dead: to begin with. Or was he? To be honest, even after sitting through his endless shitty videos it was always hard to be sure whether he was much more than just a slightly lively corpse. Was there was ever any meaningful activity going on inside that fat head? Even on his best days, Senda looked like a moulted guinea pig filled with compressed air, but the appalling heap of noisome lard sprawled across the couch looked as dead as anything I have seen: jaw hanging lifelessly on his chest, the remains of a hot dog â€" half-masticated - dangling out of his mouth; crusty T-shirt (3 weeks and still unwashed) clinging to his flabby, bed-sored chest; flies distressingly agape; Little George poking his sweaty head through the hole; pudgy right hand gripping the (if you can call it that) shaft. Suddenly!

   'Ngghhnm!!'

Senda splutters to what we will loosely call 'life', the ejected hotdog sailing across the room and knocking over his [Redacted] voodoo doll. Dear reader, don't distress yourself. The hero of our story was alive, after all. If only the good die young, this oily heap of misery will soar on well past his 100th birthday. He was just 'busy', that's all...if it was any of your business, which it wasn't!! We all have our ambitions, some humbler than others. While you might want to find a cure for cancer, or help build a hospital for starving African schoolchildren, Senda wants to masturbate to every episode of 'The Men From U.N.C.L.E'. Whether it's the cute little cleft chin, or just the name 'Napoleon Solo' giving him the idea for indulging in the solitary vice, Senda gets his upsetting groove on every time he sees Robert Vaughn in a suit. And, no, he didn't have another stroke â€" the effort of trying to coax his floppy dick into life tired him out and he fell asleep. Despite several appeals on BellGab for someone to come and help him with it, he's had no takers so far, surprisingly.
  Senda's nasty little eyes scanned the room. He looked at the clock â€" it was only 2pm FFS! â€" and fell back to sleep again. One hour later (remember he is NOT a morning person) he decided to get up. Time for breakfast!
  'Scratchit!'
  'Yes, sir, Mr Senda, sir!'
A small, hideously shrivelled man scuttled in, clad in nothing but a turquoise singlet and leather posing pouch. Clutching a pencil and pad in claw-like hands he prepared to take dictation.
  'Give me meats burned like St Joan, and fierce mustards to pierce the tongue like Cardigan's lancers' said Senda, getting all literary. 'And do it fast! Time is money, you know!'
  'Yes, sir, Mr Senda, sir!'
This poor misbegotten wretch was Pud Scratchit; abandoned as a child in the gutters of Yorkshire (not that it's easy to tell the difference there), and forced to eke out a pitiful living as Senda's carer - or, in Senda's elegant formulation, 'house-bitch' - working 18-hour days at his master's beck and call, to support himself and his repellent, crippled child Michael. More on him later.
  While Scratchit is readying his morning snack (the meat equivalent of half a barbecued bison) Senda waddled to the window and gazed upon the scene : lord of all he surveyed, a king among men. It's Christmas Eve and at last, he said to himself, he will finally get a chance to relax. The famous blizzards of Martinez have transformed his area of town (really just a dumping ground for welfare grifters and social outcasts) into a winter wonderland. He chuckled to himself as he recalled the time he entered Sweet Kathy for the Martinez Ski Jumping Championships, and her first attempt created an avalanche that buried half the town. But, he remembered with a quiet smile, it was only the Mexican half. He opened the window and took a deep breath of the invigorating mineral air. 'O, to be young again and have the world at my feet!' he thought. These days, all he has at his feet are his long saggy balls.
  'Breakfast is ready, Mr Senda, sir!'
Senda gasped over to the dining room (the couch again) and flopped down to eat. If you have ever seen vultures tearing at a dead wildebeeste then you get the picture here. Senda paused briefly and looked up from his plate to see Scratchit loitering hesitantly by the door.
  'Yes?' grunted Senda. His melodious voice slightly muffled by about three pounds of anonymous gristle jammed in his face.
  'Well...it's Christmas Eve, sir. You said you'd give me the rest of the day off. I've given your undershorts their monthly scraping and cleaned the, ahem, yoghurt, off your full-length signed George Noory photo. I and Mike were going to spend the rest of the day together. He's quite hideous to look at and mad as a fruitbat, but he's still the product of my loins and I don't like to disappoint him.' 
Senda's one good eye stared contemptuously; the other squinting at god knows what, as usual.
  'Christmas! Bah! STFU! I work 24-hour days. Sometimes I have my eyes closed at the same time, yes, but that's nobody's business. Who's going to report the news from CNN if News Director Senda's not on the case? Tell me that!!??'
  'Umm, CNN?' offered Scratchit, nervously.
  'STFU! Go on, fuck off! Just be here all the earlier tomorrow, that's all. I suppose you want to be, ugh!, paid for your half-holiday too, you north-country nitwit?'
  'If you wouldn't mind, sir' stammered Scratchit.
  'I'll pay you in YouTube views' said Senda. 'By the way, this Mini Mike of yours...'
  'Don't call him that!' hissed Scratchit, in an undertone. 'He's very sensitive about being 2 feet tall and deformed and mad as a snake.'
  'And isn't he older than you, too? How the fuck did that work?'
Scratchit shrugged his shoulders. Senda had a lot to learn. Scratchit thought back to those halcyon days of his youth. Normally the only way you could tell a woman in Yorkshire was the way they all pissed standing up, but there was one woman he met at 3am in a Doncaster car park...blonde and at least seven-feet tall, she said her name was 'Reticularis-24' and that she was from another planet. Scratchit assumed she meant Lancashire, but fucked her anyway. Three days later he heard a knock on the door and found a bundle of old clothes, inside which was a hideously wizened imp. There was a note stuck to its forehead: 'I'm calling it Michael. You want to listen to it talk! And I thought his diapers were full of shit! Here, you take the little bastard, I'm off to join the Penhaligons again!' Scratchit took a vow from that day to care for the little shit as if he were his very own, while reflecting that Mini Mike also happened to be just the right size to plug the hole in the roof of his Martinez favela. 
  'Who can tell us of the mysteries of love, sir?' said Scratchit, visibly moved.
  'God knows I am a very loving person, myself' said Senda. 'I may have driven Sweet Kathy out in the snow yesterday, but at least I gave the slut her bus fare to the homeless shelter. And the haters still call me a self-centred piece of shit. Do you know what she did?'
Scratchit did know, since he had heard the same speech about twenty times already today.
  'She broke my priceless George Noory plush moustache!'
  'Mustache' corrected Scratchit.
  'And Shredded Brain Matter can't even make me talk proper 'murrican, that Limey fag! Go on, get out! And when you return tomorrow, don't forget that I like to think in bed until well past noon, and I have a nude Kath...oh, I forgot, I kicked the bitch out. Well, anyway, I hope you choke on your turkey feet and french fries, and Mini Mike gets carried off by an eagle.'
  'And a Merry Christmas to you too, sir.'

Scratchit scampered out before his boss changed his mind, and Senda was alone for only a few minutes before the bell rang outside his hovel. He shambled to the door, and wheezed out to the stranger:
  'Who is it?'
  'That's right' said the visitor.
  'No, I mean WHO are you?' repeated Senda.
  'We could go on like this for hours, while SV lamely tries to milk an old Abbott and Costello joke for all it's worth. I'm Who. You know, the guy that tries to prick your conscience occasionally?'
  'You're the prick!' said Senda. 'Anyway, I've been conscience for at least the last half hour. I don't need some fancy fruit in a long scarf to tell me to wake up.'
  'You mean “conscious”, Senda.'
  'And don't call me “Senda”. Call me George, you dehumanising bastard!' said Senda.
  'Sorry, Senda. Anyway, as part of my effort to turn you into a slightly less self-centred piece of shit, I am coming to you to ask for a donation to help those less fortunate than yourself this Christmas' said Who.
  'LESS fortunate than ME!!?' roared Senda. 'Do you know what happened to my...'
  'Yes, it's a tragedy what happened to that mustache, Senda, but Christmas is a time for thinking beyond our own petty concerns. I am collecting on behalf of orphaned Mexicans.'
  'STFU!'
  'Orphaned, homeless Mexicans.'
  'STFU!!. Twice.'
  'Orphaned, homeless...amputee Mexicans?' persisted Who.
  'Those limbless spics have it easy' whined Senda. 'I wish I didn't have any legs either, then I wouldn't be screaming in pain all the time. Do you know I have two bad knees, AND my back aches? Plus, I can't even sit down to do an office job because my dead mother keeps possessing my ASS. Don't they have Indian reservations to go to, or something?'
  'No, because they aren't Indians; or, in the correct nomenclature, “Native Americans”, said Who.'
  'They're just feathery Mexicans, that's all. Charity begins at home, that's what I always say, now GET THE FUCK OUT!!' yelled Senda, slamming the door.

Five minutes later, the doorbell rang again:
  'Yoo-hoo!'
  'If that's Who he can go fuck himself!' said Senda.
  'I don't know who Hoo-Hee is, but he sounds like some stinky zipperhead to me. That's no way to talk to your long-lost sister. Georgie, it's me!'
Despite not having talked to her for 45 years, the authentic Senda family traits of unpleasantness and racial bigotry still shone through. It was Falkie's estranged sister, Glenda Senda. Falkie was puzzled for a moment; he thought he was looking in the mirror. The same air of gormlessness, the unfairly abundant hair, the revolting obesity...Glenda was a man! Yes, Glenda Senda was transgender. Recently retired from her life's work, loaning out money to indigent minorities at exorbitant rates of interest, Glenda (or 'Glen', as we now have to call her... him. whatever!) had decided to patch things up with her erring brother George. Glenda Senda (the transgender money-lender) had taken deep draughts of the Christmas spirit and was ready to vomit it all over him.
  'Georgie, darling, I want you to come and spend Christmas with me and my husband. Christmas is a time for families and togetherness, not for inviting yourself over to trough it with people you once accused of rape.'
  'Husband?' said Senda. 'But you're a man now, aren't you?'
  'He's a marine, he's into weird shit, and it's the size of a baby's leg' said Glen, simply. 'They're all like that in the marine corps; two drinks away from gobbling a truck driver. Semper Fag.'
  'I don't know, it seems a bit peculiar to me' said Senda, backing away and trying to shut the door.
  'Look, we can spend the day complaining about what an awful old cow our mother was!' said Glen, smiling encouragingly. 'I remember the time she bought me a new doll's house for my birthday; when she wrapped it up she used the wrong colour ribbon! That evil bitch!'
  'Yeah' said Senda, 'and she used to buy me so many clothes that I couldn't shut the goddamn closet.'
At this point there eyes met for the first time, and they were aware of an unbreakable bond based on fucked-up genes and chronic over-eating. They joined hands and sang out in perfect harmony:
  'MAY SHE BURN IN HELL!!'
  'Alright, then that's settled' said Glen. 'See you tomorrow. My Pallikins is keen to meet you. He said he can't wait to meet the man behind those fascinating videos of yours. He loved the way you coped with all the names during your reporting of the earthquake in Afghanistan. You could have been a Pashmina tribesman!'
  'I'll see' said Senda. 'I'm always keen to meet my many fans, but I have several important projects bubbling right now.'
  'The only thing you've got bubbling right now is that “Conspiracy Expert” T-shirt of yours. Jesus wept, man! that thing will walk around on its own before too long! I shall expect you tomorrow. If you don't show, I'll get my little Pally-Wally to give you a call, and you'd better pick up the phone!' said Glen.
  'If your husband is a marine, does that mean I can go to the VA every time I collapse from binge-eating and need a stomach pump? I get sick of waiting in the ER with all those jungle bunnies.'
  'Mr Senda is incorruptible. It's why I love him. Well, that and the baby's leg.'
  'Mr Senda?' said Falkie. 'Why did he take your name?'
  'Oh, he'll do anything for me' said Glen, giggling. 'And it's very hard for someone to object when you're sitting on their FACE!!'
And with that â€" remembering that it was half-price day at Popeye's, and it always gave her a chance to punch a few blacks in the lunchtime rush â€" Glen stumped off, leaving Senda alone again.

Peace at last! Senda went back to doing what he does best: sleeping. Halfway through a particularly exciting dream which saw Sir Galahad of Senda rescuing Lady Georgina of Noory from the clutches of a fire-breathing Sweet Kathy, Senda suddenly awoke, and was aware of a foul stench in the air. Yes, that may have had something to do with the three months of dirty laundy piled up in the corner, but there was something else â€" the smell of putrid brimstone. Through a greenish fog he could see two spectral figures approaching: one was a heap of fiery clothes with two eyes peering out, while the other looked like an upturned bathtub. With a shiver of horror, Falkie realised that he was staring at his own dead parents: Wanda Senda, and her husband Genghis.

(to be continued...)

Norm

Quote from: WhiteCrow on December 25, 2017, 01:07:03 PM
Pfft..

https://youtu.be/XM8RbPgheT4

Impossible. Close visual inspection reveals no neck                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               


whoozit

I hope George has a wonderful Christmas filled with things and people to bitch about.

Norm

Quote from: whoozit on December 25, 2017, 04:38:41 PM
I hope George has a wonderful Christmas filled with things and people to bitch about.

And giant earthquakes to experience!

https://youtu.be/Fym5OBTOy4Q

3OctaveFart

Quote from: SredniVashtar on December 24, 2015, 04:08:49 PM
Falkie's Christmas Carol - Stave Two - Part Two.

(Cont.)

Things had gotten serious, and Senda needed to think. He had thought himself into a doze when he heard a tumult of confused noises in the street outside his hovel. Cautiously peeping out of the window, Senda saw what looked like a fleet of limousines parked outside, and a group of official-looking men in shades and earpieces milling about and looking busy. At a signal from the senior man, the door of one of the limos opened to reveal a familiar figure, who marched in purposeful fashion to Senda's toilet/apartment. Senda thought he was looking into the mirror - if he hadn't already known that Sweet Kathy had broken six mirrors in the last month and he hadn't bought another one since he kicked her out. It looked like Senda, but yet it wasn't. This one was wearing a suit and George hadn't worn a suit since his last court appearance concerning that unfortunate business at the children's playground ('I had an itchy dick and was just trying to scratch it, that's all, so STFU!') so this prosperous-looking Senda was puzzling. Then he decided that, blood being thicker than water, a long-lost Senda relative might be perfect loan material, and rushed to open the door, his grifting antennae twitching urgently at this new potential income stream.

'Please come in,' said Senda, trying to moderate the ghastliness of his appearance with a muscular spasm that he hoped was an ingratiating smile. 'I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to clean today, but...'
The visitor looked piercingly into Falkie's fat face, taking him in at a glance and swallowing hard to control an urge to vomit. It could have been owing to the natural loathsomeness of Senda's features, the three months of skidmarked laundry piled in a corner of his hovel, or the aroma of the three rotting cats he had already spatchcocked in the last three months but not had a chance to clean up yet...take your pick. The unexpected guest cleared his throat and began to speak in a deep rumbling voice:
  'I am President George Senda,' said President George Senda.
  'That's fascinating,' said Senda. 'Anyway, can you lend me 100 bucks till the end of next month? I am guest speaker at the fourteenth annual “FatBastardCon” and I am having trouble finding the airfare to get there, so if you wouldn't mind doing the decent thing and spotting me a bit of spending money...' rambled Senda. 'Hang on a minute, you can't be president. That's some jungle bunny from Kenya.'
  'I am President George Senda nevertheless. In an alternative universe I am the world's most loved human being. America is like the Garden of Eden, there is no unemployment, and everyone lives useful productive lives. Work is prayer, my friend,' said the president, a beatific smile wreathing his bronzed, distinguished face. 'What's the matter? He said, looking concernedly at his alter-ego.
  'Would you mind not using the 'W' word in front of me? It's in very poor taste,' said Senda, clutching his chest.
  'I am also the Ghost of Christmas Past, come to teach you the error of your ways. This life of living on handouts and public charity has got to stop. In my world, everyone has their place and contributes to society.'
  'Fuck you! Said Senda. 'I am a respected YouTube commentator; do you think I just turn the camera on and say the first shit that comes into my head or something!? And as soon as they find life on another planet, George Noory promises me they will be able to sell that TV show we did. I thought we nearly had a deal the other week, but those fucking Eskimos backed out at the last minute, saying they didn't have cable in their mud huts, those stupid bastards!

President Senda sighed, grabbed Senda by his greasy 'Got Conspiracies?' T-shirt, and flew out into the night. After they had soared through the air for some time, Senda looked down and saw a street sign that said “Bell Avenue”: a tidy, well-kept area of town, peopled by apple-cheeked children and decent, upright churchgoing folk. Except for one seedy, tumbledown shop with blacked-out windows and a rather dubious collection of characters entering it - looking from right to left in furtive fashion before dashing into its unhallowed portals. The sign above the shop said 'The Hanky Spanky' â€" Adult Book Shop'.
  'Oh, I remember this place,' said Senda. “It brings back memories. It's where I saw my first fisting  video,' he said, glasses misted over with nostalgia. 'That's how I bonded with my good ol' buddy George Noory. He was running a competition to guess how many babies he could fit into a donkey's anus and...'

At that moment, they descended to the ground. After a brief period of haggling, when Senda tried to get the ghost to pay for his phantom journey, they made their way to the door of the bookshop. They entered the shop and were confronted with a 25 year-old Senda serving at the counter: fishnet T-shirt, assless chaps and a Jewfro. It was a busy morning: Not only was it Christmas Eve, but Wednesday was always new book day, and Senda and his boss, Loretta LeStrange, were readying themselves for the usual rush of perverts wanting to get their hands on the latest fap material.

Loretta, born and raised in the Shithole district of the Bronx, opened the bookshop nearly 10 years ago on the proceeds of her previous career selling crack to schoolchildren. Stunningly beautiful - in spite of being totally bald, only having one ear, a glass eye, and a wooden leg â€" her naturally sweet disposition was soured irrevocably after being abandoned by the love of her life, a Lebanese immigrant called George. She assuaged this heartbreak in her leisure hours with a combination of casual sex and baby-punching. Despite his initial reluctance to earn less than his boss, or be told what hours he should work, Loretta and Senda had managed to bond over their shared hatred of Mexicans, or “those ugly fuckers”, as they preferred to call them.

'Right, you fat lazy fuck,' said Loretta. 'Don't forget, when you are finished with the morning rush, I want you to finish decorating the Christmas tree.'
  'Yes,' said Senda, 'I was meaning to ask you about that. Is a tree decorated with dildos quite in keeping with the birth of our Saviour? Even if I am Jewish?'
  'They're different colours, aren't they? I don't think many of our customers see too well anyway, so they'll probably think they're just Christmas pickles. Oh, but I think I'll keep that one,' said Loretta, taking a 12-inch black one from the box.
  'Anything else?' said Senda.
  'Yes. Remember to put the fairy on top of the tree. I paid good money for a genuine squirting one, so don't forget!'
  Senda nodded, while sliding the January edition of “Weird and Nasty Shit” into a large brown envelope and addressing it to “Mr W Crow”. It had been a tiring morning; it was already 9.15am and he had worked nearly 15 minutes. He slumped down on a nearby stool, only to hear a splintering, squashy sound, and a kind of muffled yowling.
  'OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE. Not again! Look, Senda, when I said I'd like you to destroy my pussy later, this is NOT what I had in mind,' said Loretta, holding what looked like a furry long-playing record between finger and thumb. 'This is your final warning,' she said, frisbeeing the former feline out of an open winow with a casual flick of the wrist. 'If you sit on another cat I will take it out of your wages. Well, I would if I were paying you any. I normally pay you in piss porn vids.'

Loretta stalked off into the back office, while Senda busied himself with a new title for the festive season: an African-American gay Santa porn called 'Jungle Balls'. He was halfway through writing 'Batem-' on the address label when the bell rang and a customer bounced in.
  'Hello, my name is Dolores Lesbian. I'm a lesbian. Has the latest issue of “Chubby Lap-Lickers” come in yet?'
  'Here you are,' said Senda. 'Do you want it in a bag?'
  'Oh no,' said the lesbian. 'I want EVERYONE to know I'm a lesbian,' said the lesbian. 'By the way, do you have anything about someone who has a creepy gay obsession with an elderly radio host that hardly anyone has heard of?'
  'Oh, sorry,' said Senda. 'We just shipped the last copy off to Australia.'
  'Never mind. Oh, by the way,' said this committed Sapphist, 'I have just opened the new cycle shop across the street. Here's my card.'
The lesbian reached into her dungarees and produced a small, embossed piece of cardboard with a monogrammed 'Y' above the legend 'Dykes on Bikes.' Then, having paid for her book (making sure she got her usual 10% lesbian discount), she sashayed out.

The bell rang again and an elderly customer shuffled in. He was wearing a long raincoat, frayed at the cuffs, and the considerable expanse of bare ankle suggested he had neglected to put any trousers on this morning.
  'Is the latest issue of “Farmyard Fun” out yet?' he rasped.
  'Here you are,' said Senda, placing a heavily laminated copy on the grubby counter, with a picture of a Friesian cow (eyes blacked out to preserve its anonymity) on the cover.
  'Oh yeah, baby!' the customer said, looking at the centre-page spread. 'Mr Ed, behind the camera. That shit is hot! I love the retro stuff.'
The customer riffled further through its pages and gave a sudden squeak of pleasure.
  'Fame at last!' he said, pointing to the readers' wives section, and indicating a picture of a sheep called “Flossie”. 'My neighbour married a pig last year, the fag! Do you know they have almost exactly the same DNA as humans? Where's the fun in that?'
Senda nodded. He'd met a woman called Kathleen the other day, while she happened to be upside- down in a dumpster scoffing potato peelings, and had reached much the same conclusion himself.
  'I don't dig the kinky shit. Oh, sorry!' he said, as half a dozen gerbils rolled out of his coat sleeve on to the counter. 'Anyway, I must be going. I have patients to visit this morning. You know, there are some really fucked up freaks in this world, and they rely on my guidance.'

After the customer tottered out, Senda was left on his own again, with nothing but an old copy of “Random Slags” to keep him company. While perusing a couple of elderly women calling themselves Darth Sandra and TigerLily, and wondering what end was up, he heard the door slam against the wall, and a priestly figure strode in, asperging the soggy carpet and grimy shelves with Lysol.
  'Begone, filth!' he said.
  'Mom, is that you?' said Senda.
  'I am the Reverend Everard Forboys!' he said. 'I am secretary of the “Campaign against Unnatural Naughty Things” and I am here to shut your ass down!'
  'Does that mean you won't be wanting your copy of “Choirboy Chronicles” this month?' enquired Senda.
  'STFU! I was only doing research. I had to find out how DISGUSTING this place really is,' said the Revd, accidentally knocking over Loretta's 'alternative manger scene', featuring the Three Kings teabagging the baby Jesus.
  'We are not having you lowering rents in this area any longer. The pure air of Bell Avenue is being defiled by the stink of this place and we will have it no longer. This is a notice to quit,' he said, throwing a document on the counter. 'You have one month and then you are out of here!'

Falkie awoke with a start. What a horrible nightmare! He didn't know what was worse - being sacked, or having a paying job in the first place!

(To be continued. Falkie is visited by the Ghost of Christmas Present)

Quote from: whoozit on December 25, 2017, 04:38:41 PM
I hope George has a wonderful Christmas filled with things and people to bitch about.

***BREAKING NEWS ***

It is with deep sadness that I come before you all to share that George has suffered a personal tragedy with the passing of his dear friend MARONEY.  The Master has learned this evening that Maroney died of a heart attack on Dec. 23rd.

Please send good thoughts George's way during this difficult time, and spend a moment of silence and reflection in remembrance of one of his oldest and truest off-line friends.

FRIENDSHIP.

paladin1991

Quote from: Open Lines Gerry on December 26, 2017, 01:03:21 AM

***BREAKING NEWS ***

It is with deep sadness that I come before you all to share that George has suffered a personal tragedy with the passing of his dear friend MARONEY.  The Master has learned this evening that Maroney died of a heart attack on Dec. 23rd.

Please send good thoughts George's way during this difficult time, and spend a moment of silence and reflection in remembrance of one of his oldest and truest off-line friends.

FRIENDSHIP.

Is there a video to follow?

Quote from: paladin1991 on December 26, 2017, 01:05:29 AM
Is there a video to follow?

I've suggested that he do a tribute video, of course, but the man is currently in mourning.  Please give him time.


WhiteCrow

Quote from: Open Lines Gerry on December 26, 2017, 01:03:21 AM

***BREAKING NEWS ***

It is with deep sadness that I come before you all to share that George has suffered a personal tragedy with the passing of his dear friend MARONEY.  The Master has learned this evening that Maroney died of a heart attack on Dec. 23rd.

Please send good thoughts George's way during this difficult time, and spend a moment of silence and reflection in remembrance of one of his oldest and truest off-line friends.

FRIENDSHIP.

George, I am truly sorry to hear of the loss of your friend. Please accept my condolences and may our prayers help comfort you

Quote from: Open Lines Gerry on December 26, 2017, 01:03:21 AM

***BREAKING NEWS ***

It is with deep sadness that I come before you all to share that George has suffered a personal tragedy with the passing of his dear friend MARONEY.  The Master has learned this evening that Maroney died of a heart attack on Dec. 23rd.

Please send good thoughts George's way during this difficult time, and spend a moment of silence and reflection in remembrance of one of his oldest and truest off-line friends.

FRIENDSHIP.

George gives a nice tribute here but true to form at 9 minutes in we hear that he is asking the widow about the stuff that he gets.

Right after he finds out he is trying to get what he can, what an ass.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENWE9NiepDc

paladin1991

Quote from: Norm on December 26, 2017, 03:51:39 AM
By the masters own words he is done with YouTube.

https://youtu.be/cXg1duC7d8Y

I wonder if senda got my Christmas card with the gift certificate in it?  It wasn't much, really.  Enough for a good feed at the Acme Express.  That would be the one on Arnold drive.

whoozit

Quote from: Rally Squirrel on December 26, 2017, 10:12:46 AM
George gives a nice tribute here but true to form at 9 minutes in we hear that he is asking the widow about the stuff that he gets.

Right after he finds out he is trying to get what he can, what an ass.
I hope his friends widow tells him where to shove his written advice.  And I hope there is a video of it too.  His friends widow telling him where to put it, not the actual shoving of said advice, just to be clear.

paladin1991

Quote from: Rally Squirrel on December 26, 2017, 10:12:46 AM
George gives a nice tribute here but true to form at 9 minutes in we hear that he is asking the widow about the stuff that he gets.

Right after he finds out he is trying to get what he can, what an ass.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENWE9NiepDc

Poor senda.  that headache.  It might be a tumor. He should go to the emergency ward and get a scan. We all know these death cycles go in threes.

I wonder if he got my card.

Powered by SMFPacks Menu Editor Mod