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This is a question Neighbours

I used to live next door to a pair of elderly naturists, only finding out about their hobby when they bade me a cheerful, saggy 'Hello' while I was 25 feet up a ladder repairing the chimney. Luckily, a bush broke my fall, but the memory of a fat, naked man in an ill-fitting wig will live with me forever.

(, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 12:41)
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When I was 15 years old, my parents decided that we needed an exchange student. Upon receiving a dossier full of potential new temporary siblings, my sister and I did what any teenage girls would do: we chose the cutest one.

We lived in the most backwards sliver of cow-fingering Northern Michigan. My parents were educated people, but the town was full of the yee-haw gelatinous hillbillies in Nascar t-shirts cloaked in a film of crystal meth, comprised of 2 parts human and 98 parts gesticulating feces. This was the place where the only black man in town was shot in the stomach. We had the highest rates of child poverty and child abuse in the nation. This was a real winner of a place.

The Swede arrived, as handsome as expected. As conversation flowed, it was revealed that he was a serious member of the wealthy bourgeoisie – his mother was an MP and his father a millionaire giant of industry. The Swede was, as one might expect, a fish out of water. My hometown was the perfect antithesis to the privileged socialism to which he had become accustomed.

At the end of his stay, his parents decided to visit. My parents were keen to show that we weren’t Hitlerlusting inbred cretins, but rather hard working members of America’s heartland. My mother repainted much of the house, the garden was full of flowers, thicker books received more prominent positions in the bookcase – my parents were ready. We were proud of being small town folk, and gosh darned it, didn’t the house just sparkle.

We sat down for the first dinner around the table, the menu of which I’ve long since forgotten. I spied the fat neighbour boy, Rocky (for that was actually his name), creeping through the front garden. I saw The Swede’s parents lift eyes and follow this root vegetable of a human being…

Then Rocky pulled down his trousers and shat in our front garden, like a dog.
(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 9:58, 12 replies)
Nicely written
I do enjoy reading your posts, well written and funny.

(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 10:19, closed)
Why thank you, sir.
Much obliged.
(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 11:13, closed)
"Nicely written
I do enjoy reading your posts, well written and funny."

I couldn't put it any better myself. Another top story.
(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 15:17, closed)
I like praise.
More of that, please.
(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 16:46, closed)
I think you'll find
"... he was a serious member of the wealthy bourgeois ..."

You mean bourgeoisie - bourgeois is singular, bourgeoisie is plural. He is bourgeois, but he is a member of the bourgeoisie.
(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 15:22, closed)
That is all.
(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 15:38, closed)
You are a cock.
But a correct one. The amendment has been made.
(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 16:37, closed)

Sorry for being a cock, but pedantically correcting people's spelling and grammar amuses me.
(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 17:24, closed)
Me too!
And I loathe speling erros.
(, Wed 7 Oct 2009, 15:18, closed)
The first one I've read that actually made me laugh.
(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 16:22, closed)
Thank you
Snot just came out my nose
(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 18:08, closed)
I must add.
Rocky had a younger brother named Spike.
(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 20:09, closed)

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