The Wrong Juice
Copious satellites ago, I was sitting in my local pub with my mate Flobbo when we hatched a plan.

You see, we'd been having trouble with Roderick, an increasingly unpleasant, juddery old puffin. The moment he started drawing his pension he became a proper menace. Constant schemes and childish pranks. His latest attempt to piss us all off was some kind of raffle scam. Fortunately we'd all heard about some silly little scrote in the next town trying to get away with the same thing, and gave him no quarter.

Flobbo and I were getting proper sick of him, so we devised a series of pranks that would toy with his mind and hopefully cause him to question his ways.

It started simply enough. He was a creature of habit and had days when he drank only cider and days when he drank only beer. We would wait until he had ordered and taken his first sip, and then swap one for the other when he wasn't looking. His outraged spluttering and subsequent rows with Andy, the landlord, were a joy to watch.

But soon enough it began to seem as though we were going too far. Disappearing hats, doctored diaries, phone hacking, suspiciously twisted napkins; the poor old boy's mind was unravelling and it became increasingly apparent that we were to blame. So we planned one final, blowout prank and vowed that after its execution never again would we trouble the old plank's brain box. But it was not to be.

We were in the pub late one night putting the finishing touches on our dastardly deed when we heard a high-pitched feminine scream, as though from a woman. We looked out of the window and saw two figures: one departing rapidly, the other in a grey trenchcoat - initally spread wide to the world, but quickly wrapped around a male body. Which turned around. It was Roderick. Some demon was in his eyes. We'd gone too far already. Taxed his fragile state of mind and then dropped him right in the loony bin. He caught sight of us, squealed with delight, and ran into the pub.

He darted over to us and jumped right on our table, throwing his overcoat off and treating us all to a full view of his full bodily extremes. With a screech of utter glee, he crouched down and dipped his rancid bell-end in my pint. Right in there.

In my pint. Jesus. It was horrible. The man clearly had a lot of diseases. Not only a fucking pick n' mix of VD, but obviously quite a few virulent skin buggeries as well.

"Hahahaha!" he yelled. "Cocky beer! COCKY BEER!" He began to caper, all the while landing gentle punches on an innocent bystander.

At this point Flobbo emerged from the toilet, having spent the last half hour trying to pass something the size of a pig through his bum-end.

"Seven Christs, I am parched!" exclaimed he. "Nothing better than a pint!"

And with that, he grabbed my Penis Pint, and, ignorantly, downed just over half of it in one go. We all stared. No-one knew what to say. But Roderick did.

"Hahahah! HAhahahaHAHAHHAHAH! Drunk it you did! Get a good diseased drink of my frothy knob soup!"

Flobbo looked down at the glass. It was CLOUDY. He went green. He belched. He looked at me.

And then he vomited on my face.

"YOU BASTARD! HOW DARE YOU! I KNOW MY RIGHTS! YOU CAN'T JUST BRLUGHUARRRRRRRRAAAAAGHHHHHHHH!" I roared, as I joined in with a sick of my own.

Well that set everyone off, and soon the vomit train had stopped off at every station in the pub. The place was caked, and somehow, in all the vomitous confusion, Roderick had run off. It was at this point that Andy, the landlord, came back up and saw what had happened. He ran right for the door and barred us in until we'd cleaned it all up. Then we had a darts tournament.

Later on I did a really big poo and it was right smelly oh it was horrible.
(Frank Snow, Fri 3 Feb 2012, 23:42, 6 replies)

Welcome back, Frank!

(poobah, Sat 4 Feb 2012, 1:06, closed)

Different Frank.

( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Sat 4 Feb 2012, 14:53, closed)

Frank Castle?

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Sat 4 Feb 2012, 20:25, closed)

I'm genuinely not sure whether this is genius or drivel.

( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Sat 4 Feb 2012, 14:53, closed)

I think the same can be said for most of QOTW.
Still pretty funny though.
( Bourbon Fox Bourbon is a moron, Sat 4 Feb 2012, 15:19, closed)

I call shenanigans
Very entertaining shenanigans, but shenanigans nonetheless.
(Eukanuba, Sat 4 Feb 2012, 18:29, closed)