HFU HF Underground
General Category => Huh? => Topic started by: Pigmeat on February 09, 2017, 0239 UTC
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He said it's where all the cool geeks want to live. When I told him that I had a friend who had been a Fleming man who was pretty keeno, he hocked a loogy, spit, and pointed to it saying, "That's the finest phlegm to ever come from CalTech." As it was green and shiny it was tough to disagree with him, but I fought on doggedly. I said, "Listen Bub, does the name 'Fansome' mean anything to you?" He guffawed and replied, "Fansome? Alluvial O. Fansome? That's the fool who stole the cannon from that private school and had to give back. Is he still riding the little Segway?" "Not since he got swallowed by the gator!", I tossed back.
Well wouldn't you know it, the little jackass starts laughing and shouts, "Ha! Ol' Gator Bait Al! I knew he'd never solve cold fusion!" I'd had enough, I grabbed that piss-ant by the collar and the waistband of his Wendy's uniform, hauled him into the men's room and gave him an hour of swirlies, all the time shouting "Are you going to make fun of my pal Al again?" to which he would respond "No sir!" and I would say "Wrong answer! Back in the crapper!" Either the bright boy figured it out, or he saw that bright tunnel, but as he was turning blue he muttered, "God help me, Al Fansome." I said, "That's the right answer, Junior. Now what do you know about MIT stealing the Fleming Cannon in the 80's?"
BTW, he got fired for spitting on the counter and clogging the toilet. Serves him right!
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lol@Alluvial
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Whoo-oop! I’m the old original iron-jawed, brass-mounted, copper-bellied corpse-maker from the wilds of Arkansaw!—Look at me! I’m the man they call Sudden Death and General Desolation! Sired by a hurricane, dam’d by an earthquake, half-brother to the cholera, nearly related to the small-pox on the mother’s side! Look at me! I take nineteen alligators and a bar’l of whiskey for breakfast when I’m in robust health, and a bushel of rattlesnakes and a dead body when I’m ailing! I split the everlasting rocks with my glance, and I squench the thunder when I speak! Whoo-oop! Stand back and give me room according to my strength! Blood’s my natural drink, and the wails of the dying is music to my ear! Cast your eye on me, gentlemen!—and lay low and hold your breath, for I’m bout to turn myself loose!
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There's our Al. Back fat and sassy as always!
You'll be proud to know I used that Tennessee Toe-Twister hold you showed me on that mouthy Missouri Midget on ol' Big Mouth as I jammed his head deep in the recesses of that fast food throne. That's what he gets for wearin' no-skid Velcro fastened shoes. The manager said she'd never seen either the crapper or Big Mouth so clean.
A fella around the corner from me has a mountain howitzer from the Mexican War. We could throw it and the Fleming cannon on a flatbed and tour the country, blasting pesky kids out of peoples yards. I bet there would be a pile of cash in it.