Started by Ceri Shaw on September 15, 2009 at 2:33 pm in Three Word Story Group
Interrupting his snack comprised of Ale and pork rinds he suddenly remembered his dog was locked in the ty bach back in Aberbargoed with a saxon wench of proper age to be jailbait. Looking for screwdriver to reload rocketlauncher to pop open y ty bach he found instead...a saggy hag...in a golfbag... "what a drag...to be squeezed...and rhymed poorly". Though better bard the border was. So thus began the saga of the lonesome border patrolman and his ever trusty sidekick. Offa the dyke offered to hold the patrolman's hand as leaned leaned as far as the law allowed. Morning frost prohibited walking barefoot on Llyn Tegyd, Bala thus the copter came into action, looped the loop while singing arias over Offa's Dyke ...ar hyd y nos..., and onward. On to Criccieth for a cuppa.
Then there arose playing his harp the mighty Bendigeidfran riding his horse Luagor past Cadwalader's with a pint under his belt. "What's that smell?" "Haggis" said Scotty from Star Trek. Scotty smiled timidly knowing what he knew. To be true 'twas Ianto Penuwch..."Remove that kilt. Prove you're Scottish! See ma sporran, count the wrinkles. Scotty fingered the wrinkles with care, smoothing down his moustache while he adjusted his kilt, tightened his safety pin, washed his hands with undiluted Drano before he realized his greatest ambition! Meanwhile after the moon came up, his eyes twinkled with supreme mischief; he decided to light the fuse and take cover.
Bombs away! That fulfills my dreams. In that moment the ty bach was quite warm; something was burning! Oh! Sh*t! Dai what a size, you jerk, said the drunken nun. I've seen bigger doodahs on a Russian dwarf hamster in my dreams! Talking of dreams, his lady snored like a warthog on Mynydd Gwair and began muttering Mabinogi tales in languages that resembled sounds of regurgitating bullfrogs. In fact.... it caused a riot in Rhyl, altercation in Abercynon, ructions in Ruabon, bedlam in Bedlinog, madne ss in Machynlleth, carelessness in Caerffifi and aimless alliteration amongst the AmeriCymru.
But in Pontlliw, they swatted flies (already flypaper dead) easier to hit using hair lacquer, they spread them on currant biscuits with a little bit of care and Felinfach milk! Good to eat especially in Gino's 'Eating Food' salon spread with pizza and bara lawr and pickle relish and garlic bread ... all mixed with unresolved edible stories... , baccala chunks, fisheyes, and other jungle critters deep fried crispy greasy, grimy gophers with witchery grub and Caerphilly croutons; special mother-in-law treat!
Then the thunder roared across the methane gas vents. Thinking ahead, they prepared to mount a dozen horses, their hearty steeds and stalwart stallions . .
Thus it ended that great illusive "Ddraig Goch" hunt for MonsterTruck Derby starting in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllandussulioogogoch (a Liverpool suburb with Walmart) and continuing through Llanerchymedd strip malls where people took off their shoes to do lewd things and crept silently among waiting tires/tyres in mousey ways.
So, at last, one sleeping MonsterTruck pulled into Abergavenny, slipped into a truck funk, fueled the chopper, and flew gracefully away. The shoeless people wildly waved westward saying their fond Hwyls and Amens hoping this is the final goodbye, that last fairwell
updated by @ceri-shaw: 11/24/19 06:16:51PM
