Sunday, September 23, 2018

NAIL AD...riginal.

by riginal (writer), moe australia, March 23, 2014

If you're smart you can flog a lot of lofty ideas instead of gasping at straws?


Once upon a well hammered timber beam in Oregon...spruced up and driven in, lived a happy family of nails. Mother Nail,Father Nail, Brad the son, short,thin bright (Brad was the weak link as he couldn't support as much as he should).

Gal (short for Galvanised Nail) Nail a short twisted daughter you couldn't rust as far as you could hammer her, and gnarled old bent over Grandpa nail. The year was 2O14, a good year for nails. You see living in a fairly remote area was the key to the family's happiness.

The family stood together in a steely tight- knit unison, if they didn't the barn roof and loft stairs they were hell-bent on supporting- would collapse.

Sure, there were creaks and groans from the Nails as winter shuffled out and the trickling heat of Spring sprung an excited crack or two.

Their weekends were jolly and they feasted on sap, held their collective heads iron tight, hunched over against the pigeon shit which slightly corroded their bond with nature but the family braced themselves with dignity and Grandpa would unwind a little and let go a sigh as the weight placed upon him from the never ending crap always hit him harder because being bent over with age this presented a broader horizontal target. But he good naturedly accepted the crap heaped on him for the simple reason that he was sensible about his lot in life...he would never lose his head as he had heard that the old farmer who built the barn they had spent most of their lives sheltered in, drank a bit, and if he suspected a nail wasn't keeping up its end of the bargain he would go a bit crazy with an old claw hammer and more than one weak nail ended up a screw loose. Or rather,replaced by one!

Other nails shuddered and shook when the drunken Farmer Bill spilt moonshine on their butts, some were wrenched/clawed from the barn screaming for mercy before being thrown into a red hot fire which bellowed, "new for old come out of the cold and i'll melt ye down and ye be hammered til cold... new nails from old!"

Then, one damp night a rumour circulated through the barn like a politician's mistress. Damp banging aside, every nail held its breath. The pollie tried to regain his.The barn was about to be visited by a travelling upstart nail gun salesman, S, who had unfortunately built up too much air pressure with F Bill's beautiful daughter in the hay loft. Whilst rolling round in the hay with the salesman Bill's amorous observant flaxen bared daughter noticed that the loft had a bit of a sag and remarked to S man "some of these nails look past their 'use by date'." Just then Farmer Bill staggered in and saw the S man ruffling his daughter's.

Farmer Bill put down his claw hammer and picked up his shotgun demanding satisfaction which according to the view of the roosting pigeons- or as the lead pigeon cooed sarcastically-"i think satisfaction has already BEEN had Bill you're a bit late!" So was the pigeon after Bill blasted him...late in homing home as when you have a bum full of buckshot it tends to veer you off i've heard!

The enraged tiddly Bill started to climb up the rickety loft stairs supported by the roof beam the nail family were living in. The weight in the loft they could no longer support, as they had held on valiantly in an effort to support the S man and his jumping jack cheerleader for the Bucking Bronco. Her name incidently was Jill...

So i guess you could say S nailman and Jill against Bill's will went up the loft did daughter. Bill came round they all fell down and nails come tumbling after. This is the ad i'm selling. If you have ambitions to bang round a loft and you don't want a large Bill afterwards... use one of our super nail guns and release the pressure on your beam! You can contact our company loft on www. Nail Jill without the Actually looking to do some ad work...rasping at straws up a wonky stare case? now...hope you nail it on the weekend! One easy loft playment...without the enormous staggering blasted Bill !

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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