Sunday, 5 April 2009

A Short Story

John Wayne was sitting under the desert sun.

'Why am I sitting under the desert fucking sun?' he snapped at the lackey holding his sunshade.
'That shade's about as useful as an ice sculpture of my ass.'

Blushing, the lackey -- who had been transfixed by the sight of John Wayne shucking slivers of skin from the soles of his feet with a fruit knife -- re-angled the parasol.

'Actually,' mused John Wayne, 'an ice sculpture of my ass could be interesting.'

'CLAUDITA!' he screamed.

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