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Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Odin & the Sabre

Hear this, Hjort, ye galloping troglodyte, ye malodorous taint, yer Odin be naught but a dream of making a Viking's life worth living. Aye, for all yer toil & trouble in the Viking life, ye've naught to show for it but a half-eaten mutton leg, an empty bottle of skolled-away lambic & a bounty of insidious rashes. Aye, tis true, ye sloth, ye ferrit, ye lumbering manchild, yer salvation lies in Odin's promise, aye, which entails that ye'll eat mutton again, aye, & find yerself in the company of yer mates, aye, until the sun sets on eternity. Blasted Odin! I'll not speak for me maties, but be ye sure, ye dilapidated, lichen-covered, termite infested frame of a man, that 'tween me life of constant revelry & victory at present & the promise of a Valhalla full of half-dead larva with horned helmets salivating & throwing tripe scraps about their flowing beards for all of eternity, I'd pick me life of the present. Aye, ye can run & hide behind Odin all ye want, ye scowling turd, for at least then yer person is hidden from me good eye & the rising tide of vomit & bile that me tastes in me mouoth every time ye surface can abate for a moment's respite, ye scabrous festering rhinocerous.

3 Comments:

Anonymous Hjört said...

Valhalla!!!!!!!!

10:27 AM  
Anonymous Captain Sincerely said...

i gave my parrot rum. i gave odin a turde in a boxxe.

Turde in a boxxe,
Turde in a boxxe,
A woman's shirt,
A Turde in boxxe.

9:33 PM  
Blogger Antonio Hicks said...

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6:47 PM  

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