Forlorn
I took out my wallet; a couple of quid and some shrapnel. That wouldn’t buy me an authentic Yorkshire grousing bonnet. I could withdraw the cash from my local bank, but could I justify doing so? I stared into the shop window longingly. It was a fine bonnet. My hot breath clung to the icy cold window like kittens to the side of a bus on a one way journey to nothingness. The bonnet was hanging in the window display like a beacon; a beacon of hope, of promise, of temptation. The colours in the fabric seemed to swirl and dart and I was reminded of my mother’s eyes. The fabric of my trousergroin touched the glass. I walked on.

“There must be a better way to make money than cod-fettling,” I said to myself.
“There is!” chirruped a reply from beneath a nearby tree.
“How did you hear me? I’m talking to myself!” I said to myself. “I’m a deaf-mute!”
“Then how can you hear me?” said the squeaky voice.
There was only one way to speak to a cocky character like this. “Show thyself, thou shrill treeshelterer of this grim afternoon. Emerge ye from thy shady lair and let mine eyes feast on thy undivulg’d form.”
Silence.
I was enraged. “EMERGE YE!” my mindlungs clattered.
I stood for a moment, staring at the tree trunk. At first there was a small green finger, then a whole hand, and very shortly after there was a stout frog, or maybe a toad, standing only three lemurs and a shark’s length away from me. I crouched and held out my palm. The plump little fellow hopped onto my hand as happy as you like. We were soon engaged in a frenzied amphibio-mammalian union, the likes of which would give David Icke horrific nightmares, or maybe an erection.

We lay on the grass in a post-coital embrace.
“Did you enjoy that, my smooth green lover?” I thought to him.
“Did you?” he replied in a telepathic mindcroak.
“I certainly did!” I telereplied.
It was then that my heart was broken.
He leapt to his devious green feet with gusto. “Haha! You owe me five hundred and thirty-three pounds!”
“Why?” I asked through my mental skullbone.
“It’s the law! If a man penetrates any amphibian of the order Anura and then claims to have enjoyed it, he automatically forfeits a sum of money directly proportionate to the difference in height between the two participating specimens, multiplied by the duration of the aforementioned act of penetration.”
The whorefrog laughed gleefully. How could I have argued?

I walked to the bank forlornly, withdrew the cash and handed it over. The pondstitute promptly disappeared behind a tree trunk. It was only then that I realised the entire existence of the deceitful pleasuretoad had all been in my mind and I had just given my money to a passing she-truant. It truly was an expensive mistake!
(stusut79, Thu 25 Oct 2007, 14:56, 11 replies)

A lesson here
And that, children, is why you should never take LSD
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Thu 25 Oct 2007, 15:07, closed)

Mind
You sir, are a screwed up twisted little man.

More please :)
(calamarain just invented dehydrated water, Thu 25 Oct 2007, 15:09, closed)

That thing people quote...
.. about 100 monkeys with typewriters and the works of shakespeare.....

Did you feed your monkeys 'shrooms??!
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Thu 25 Oct 2007, 15:37, closed)

Sorry...
But that post is shit. It has no redeeming qualities at all.
(frankspencer, Thu 25 Oct 2007, 15:49, closed)

what on earth ?
I have no idea what you've een drinking, but I'll have a double !
(mad-dog slept with your sister on, Thu 25 Oct 2007, 15:54, closed)

Caffeine or cocaine?
Is it just me, or are we all on drugs again?
(Temper, Thu 25 Oct 2007, 21:51, closed)

"pondstitute"
such a cute term
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Fri 26 Oct 2007, 0:46, closed)

Welcome back!
subject says it all.

M
(Mr. Monkey, Fri 26 Oct 2007, 4:47, closed)

Yay!
You're back! Yippee!
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Fri 26 Oct 2007, 6:00, closed)

I love the
mindlungs clatter.
(furby, Fri 26 Oct 2007, 12:08, closed)

Jaaaaaaaaaaam
When waik to work, all swig faced, six months since you clowned it up, and old frenids cross the street, and no one pays you any heed, except the dung breathed men, who often now will pick you up, and van you to the fens, to wrestle pigs. Then welcome, ooh PIG, welcome in Jam
(jmaxi returned again on, Fri 26 Oct 2007, 14:27, closed)