Thursday, February 21, 2019

TSUNAMI or rubber salami? RIGINAL.

by riginal (writer), moe australia, March 03, 2015

The keyboard stretches as far as the flog can see....................................................


The year of the Tsunami flog, 2015. Eric Flog was a self laid carpet layer. Once Eric realised he was supposed to be on top of the carpet when laying it instead of underneath, he went ahead in leaps and bounds. Saved heaps on 'undercover' torch batteries. For you hysterical floggers wanting to know how to flog anything, Eric was the epitome of sell. Eric was born. A distinct plus.

Eric invented portable 'essay tiles.' Made under licence in the UK. These floor tiles became a hot favorite. For the simple fact that a student of anything, eating breakfast, only had to look at the floor during breakfast imbibeation, there they were ready.The word tiles could be transposed, mixed and matched in ever imaginative sentences. Eric became a rich man. Tile he reached the age of consent between life's continuance...and that rude remonstrating strident interference called death...of a salesman.

Even in death though, Eric left patents on his latest flog. Rubbery Ten Commandments. Eric's surviving son, Eric 2, was a chip off his deceased dad's block of 'R' flog ideal. The impressionable young lad had his own rubber sausage rebound factory to make rubber meat ends. Eric 2 was ambitious, rubbed up by the fact he enjoyed flogging his wares. Anything that came to hand which could stretch his wealth.They buried his father in one of his father's inventions, a corkscrew coffin. A brilliant idea whereupon the deceased person was placed respectfully upright in a threaded coffin the shape of a screw enabling the encapsulated person to be screwed after death into the ground by a large screwdriver attached to the hydraulics of a back hoe.

The reason being that no excavation was required. Cheap. Just a simple machine bit interlocking on the screw head clockwise to any variable depth pre arranged by how much depth affordability. Obviously, a brilliant idea, only it took a while for the wealthy to get used to the idea of being screwed, whereas some ordinary folk resisted the new type of burial simply because they had been screwed alive by the government, utilities; in some cases, cranky wives. And vice versa. Some declined to be screwed in the afterlife. I hope you get the thread i'm alluding to? Of course the occasional hiccup. One feisty old chap had put a deposit down on a burial screw. Blew the residue payment on a rusty old screwdriver in Lost Vegas. Yelled at the croupier, "screw you! this joint is evil." He then died much to the dismay of the burial screw operator who was told to leave half the screw coffin sticking up in the air until the family had a whip around and the chap was screwed level with his deceased wife's mound. Look i'll leave it there because i personally don't like the thought of screwing after death. Nothing personal. I was going to have my body stuffed, but my doctor said it will be if i don't pay for his services.They say that just to put the screws on. Bit of an unhealthy attitude in my book. He's already admitted i'm worth more to him alive than dead?

That's enough about death. Eric 2 sat listening to his dad's will being read out. He knew his wily father had patented the rubbery Ten Commandments. He had the rubbery sausage factory already in place. Greatly enthused when the solicitor droned, "i leave the Ten Commandments lock stock and burial to my greedy ass son. Forget about the sausage son, change the rubber mould to a rubber imprinted mat resplendent with the Ten Commandments. Put all my money and yours into this venture."

Eric went ahead despite his business CEO's protestations about putting all the dead in the one casket. Sorry, typo error. Putting all your eggs in the one foul basket. And so it came to be. Intensive ad, flog, flog, flog. The central spiel. "Buy our never wear out Ten Commandments." Tragedy struck like a streak of God's wrath. Not one of the genuine imitation stone rubber tablets inscribed with God's commandments sold. The company's top salesman, Moses, was called in to face the fuming burning Eric 2 bush.

Eric screamed, bit down hard on a defunct past its 'use by chew date' rubber sausage. Pointed an accusing sausage at the hapless salesman. "What in hell's name is going on Moses for God's sake? I am facing ruination." Moses scratched his beard. "Well sir, i went up to the mount and talked with God. He gave me a simple reason why our Ten Commandments haven't sold." Eric blew up. "Give me the short answer by God." Moses picked up a demo rubber tablet. Bounced it once on the mahogany table for emphasis. Pulled on several commandments. "God told me it was a lousy idea right from the start. He sighed, illuminated my thoughts, "Moses, people have been stretching the Ten Commandments ever since i introduced them. Why then would they waste money on continuing to stretch my word? Tell young Eric his father's idea was bound to die a monetary death, screwed by inflatable greed. My word was written in stone. Mankind is not over by a long stretch. But you can't bend my words and instructions because i will not excuse the Evil of flexibility to suit your own ends."

Eric groaned. I know you people don't believe this story but as i type, the the ads bounce off and drip down the pages of flog, obscuring reason. The moral is..? /:>) Have a great comment day. Bereft of ulterior RUBBER motive. :>)

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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