FORGETFULNESS
A few years ago my dad went to the local cornershop, bought a paper and some eggs, then went home. Just as he turned the key in the door he remembered the Renault was nearly on empty, so he turned, clambered into the car, and drove down to Tescos. Filled up the tank, went to the kiosk and paid, and drove home.

And when he got back in he looked down and realised he hadn't put any trousers on...

Unfortunately forgetfulness appears to be hereditary.

A couple of months ago my mum crashed at my flat; she was going to see Joseph and his Technicolour Wankcoat with some of her blue rinse brigade friends.

I get a phonecall at work:

"Spanky!" she says. Shit - has something gone wrong? She sounds fucking adgitated, like a fella on deathrow given a pencil and some paper and asked if he'd like to play a few games of hangman to pass the time.

"You ok, mum?" I ask, concerned.

"Spanky! You've got a parcel! I've signed for it for you!"

Woooo.... Fuck me sideways...

Now, I'd forgotten that I'd ordered anything (beer and a genetic disposition to forgetfulness coupled with the ability to purchase shite twenty-four hours a day on the web has effectively and repeatedly raped my credit rating hard up the arse without the aid of lubricants).

Intrigued, I say to my mum: "Open it, mum."

And I hear her struggling to unwrap the package over the phone.

Then it goes quiet.

"What is it?" I ask, genuinely fucking bemused.

...silence...

After a while my mum says: "I'll be out with Maureen when you get home. I bought you and Liz some milk; you were running low."

-CLICK!

And the line goes dead.

Strange... I replace the receiver and go about my business, selling shit to shits.

Then after a hard day trying to look busy I go home.

The flat's empty, my mum's gone out.

I shrug off my jacket, walk into the living room and see it, on the coffee table.

My internet purchase.

Placed there with love and care by my mother. Equally spaced out on the table, largest item at the rear, smallest at the front...

"Fuck..." I say to myself.

As I suddenly recall sitting at my computer the previous week and ordering the multi speed black mamba with realistic veiny finish, topped with a HUGE fucking bell end (in the hope that Liz would find it sexy, rip her cloths off and sit on the fucker), the black PVC hotpants, the pair of fluffy pink handcuffs, and the complimentary five-inch butt plug I received as a free gift for spending over thirty quid...

All - arranged - with - loving - tender - care - on - the - coffee - table - by - my - mum.

Forgetfulness...

It is, quite simply, a scabby old puss filled, crab infested, Camembert-smelling, crusty rancid old wizard sleeve of a cunt of a condition...

(Cheers for the genes, dad).
( SpankyHanky, Tue 5 May 2009, 8:36, 9 replies)

Top drawer sir...

*clicks*

I now know what I would like on my gravestone:

Here Lies Pooflake:

"a scabby old puss filled, crab infested, Camembert-smelling, crusty rancid old wizard sleeve of a cunt"
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Tue 5 May 2009, 12:10, closed)

It wasn't
the same model as "Big Jake", was it?

*click*, by the way
( TheMagicDwarf is back like ballroom dancing, Tue 5 May 2009, 12:25, closed)

I know that pain all too well
*clicks*
(Is this a good idea? ... Yes this is definitely a good idea, Tue 5 May 2009, 13:35, closed)

Why do you keep doing this to yourself?
How do you keep doing this to yourself?

Whatever the answer is to the above questions, please continue, sir. You are a source of endless amusement to us all. *Click*
(LongJohnBaldry, Tue 5 May 2009, 16:02, closed)

Oh dear
*clicks*
(Grrrrr Tigers, Tue 5 May 2009, 16:26, closed)

Lovely job
Senior Spanky!
(Lizard King, Tue 5 May 2009, 19:43, closed)

God
your poor parents! heeheeheeheeeheeeheeeeheeeeeheeeeee!
(Milly One, Tue 5 May 2009, 19:45, closed)

I like this lots
-clicks-
(jellyfish wish, Tue 5 May 2009, 19:48, closed)

clickety
You poor poor thing- my mother hasn't opened any of my adult parcels yet, but it's not for a lack of trying on her part.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Wed 6 May 2009, 23:10, closed)