Saturday, July 21, 2018

The Strife n Times of the bikie An Thrax .RIGINAL.

by riginal (writer), moe australia, August 28, 2013

Credit: free.
One 'Blank' sausage please.

A bikie chapter, banking on a regular sausage.


Hello humans n bikies n people on this planet.How is your daze going to daze? My name is An Thrax. I have been sockondered to write as fall guy editor on this month's bikie mag. Didn't want to but i was told by Socka i'd be sock on dered/undered? Duh! Socka is a brute. He is a thieving rotten bottom of his barrel chest layabout with no thought of other people. Highly sought after by pollie nation. Pollie nation is done as you all know by b's that go buzz from place to place promising each and every flower/flower child/person, they will be impregnated by the monetary blessings of 'pollie nation' (a division of Congress) and will "flourish and end up in a rosy field." Socka doesn't like eating roses that's the pricks. So he decided to take a 'rein check' from Mr Biden's stable. In other words when he was leaving the stables after not having been 'sworn in to politics' he took the reins of Mr Biden's favourite nag...'Commonsense,' and tried to ride off into the bumset. Got to the front gates was de-bummed, sworn in and AT by security, and told "to have a bit of 'Commonsense.' " So Socka took Commonsense's saddle. And a bucket of 'lucky horse poo.' See Socka is illiterate like me. Shoe? Poo? all the same to Socka! Long as it is free and edible.

Look i only went to school and repeated it twenty times. The Principal Vet at vet school said i was an animal and should be put down in the lower house which to me meant buried? I am not a scholar or such but i learned through 'hands on' or should i say "hands up" experience- at banks! Because of this my dad called me An Thrax? I am a man you see and my creator said he nearly called me Sue but me bikie mum 'Ruthless Ruth the reggae rum mum' told my dad that the worry of such a moniker could instigate a disease so they named me An Thrax instead.My mom was a very tough woman. Had to be. I was born wearing a bikie's leather jacket...with studs! Mum yelled like a pollie short- changed his tea and biscuit allowance.The doctors' thought that they might have to ampute my mum's leg as it was caught up the sleeve of my jacket but everything untwisted out great and mum went home with a saw knee and An Thrax. A bubbling 100 klg thieving baby. I was a happy child and dad loved pushing me in his Harley pusher with dad's exhaust blowing in the wind.In winter dad's wind was blowing out in the exhaust.They say it's an ill wind that blows no good and most of the neighbour hooded agreed. That's why they took to wearing hoods. Garden beds died!

Let me fill you in on our chapter...verse nine."Our oath is to be kind to all people...and kindly help people out to load their stuff on our pillions and help tie it down...kind of" Amen. We are 100,000 strong. All livin' in the one clubhouse YOU can imagine how 'strong' we are! We wash 'Regular' once a month. 'Regular' our guard dog likes that. Don't most sausage guard dogs? Now, before you say we are a pack of 'Hill's Angels' we are not.Our electric bikes won't go up hills...even with the help of Dorothy Virtue's angels. We call ourselves 'Blank.' We don't carry weapons...just blunt pointed green bananas tucked into our bandannas...or is it the other way round? This is our modest operandi. Our Harleys are fitted with twin windscreen wiper moron motors...turbocharged for extra whirr...with more offs than ons. The target usually is a house of ill repute. A bank. 50,000 of us walk casually in so as not to draw too much attention to ourselves. Each and every one of us has a concealed blunt pointed green banana loaded with blanks- cocked. Or is it the other way round? We peel off. Socka speaks to a teller. He tellers, er, im, that they are looking blunt point blank at being robbed by a bunch of greenies. And if we don't get what we want we'll take a sausage. Socka reckons a hostage is a sausage? That's where our sausage guard dog hostage 'Regular' comes in. A green b is thrust in Regular's bum bag.Dog's carry bum bags.What's up?

Regular rolls on his back and yells out,"give them the money for God sake i don't want to be shot by a greenie at point- blank range." The bank manager feels sorry for the Regular sausage roll and puts the bank's money into the large bum bag.Now, at this stage you sensible people (yes...the both of you!) are saying "how can you hold up a bank with a sausage hostage rolling dog? Easily! You see Regular is fitted with fake 'sauce blood.' Socka socks the dog ln the jaw fakely like the wrestlers do. Regular bites down on the capsule. Red sauce erupts. Still don't believe me? Well let me run this past yew non- believers.Wouldn't YOU guys PAY UP over SAUCE on your regular sausage dog? You damn well would if you had 50,000 blunt point blank green bananas stuck in your bum bag! For a start the weight would be horrendous. I'm not a pealing for you to join or even believe in my chapter. But if 100,000 bikies rock up at your place one night with their twin turbo-charged windscreen motors whirring and whining you may go a BLANK. If you can come to grips with a blunt point blank banana we may let you join BLANK.Or, you can be a non whirr member as long as you have a saucy sausage to rob your local bank. Regular does weekend work on a regular basis if you want to roll up? This is An Thrax blogging off. I've got to rush down to the bank to cash a BLANK chick...cheque! And exercise my Regular sausage...with sauce.


About the Writer

Bio...bioio...daylight come an i wanna go home. Come missa tele man tele me banana. A banana tele? Seriously would like to hook up with other comedy writers to engage.
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