del amitri, the last of the nefarious quads, wondered if anyone would discover the body of james joyce,
whom he had not murdered and built a patio over, buried along with a bag of campinos and all hopes of finding a female sexual aesthetic in literature.
(Lee Culkin IS the macaw - or at least one of a pair of twin macaws, Morris being the other... )
The ghost of stately plump James Joyce shaved and thought to himself that he could eat with relish the inner organs of flesh or fowls, were it not that they kept falling through him.
Ghost or not though, he was still the major shareholder in Evil Macaw Enterprises and he was going to be at that damn board meeting, no matter how long it took to get there.
And after taking back his company, he was going to avenge his own murder...
(i was thinking more twin peaks: fire walk with me, which was still pretty soapy)
whatever happened to derek amitri? i worked *"^&£^£ hard to make that pun!!!
Del amitri brushed the last of the soil off his hands and stood back, satisfied, to study his work. No one would ever know he had been there.
The white circle amidst the field of green looked untouched.
Only he could hear the faint ticking sound from below the sod.
Del patted his chest as he left the stadium .... just to make sure he hadn't dropped the plans downloaded from the hacker site "how to make the worlds smallest nuclear bomb" the night before.
The Macaw, Lee Culkin, alighted on the shoulder of the new manageress of the `Grin and bare it`, the new wine bar secretly owned by Ian Blaize.
"Who's a Pretty Girl then" the bird squawked in a geordie accent.
Tina Titswill, the manageress, gave a scream of horror and ran out into a busy mainstreet just as a black limosine was about to race past. There was a terrific crash.
Unbeknownst to our intrepid (or is that insipid?) heroes, the FBI were regularly monitoring the Legless Arms, and when they heard the words 'World War Three' they contacted Dubya Bush's puppet master, who pulled the strings until Dubya's wooden finger hovered above a little red button...
(I always liked the ending to Butch Cassidy you know)
Just as the ghost of James Joyce was about to enter the board meeting and seize back his company, his attention was drawn to a pretty young woman limping into a football stadium.
"Tight boots ? No, she's lame. Oh! "
He followed her, into the Chairman's Office, where fortunately there was a ouija board. Some rapid shoving of a glass later, he had communicated his offer - a buyout of the club, sixty million for the transfer market, the club to be sponsored on their shirts by Evil Macaw Enterprises and the name to be changed to Brighton City.
The Chairman blanched, but he could hardly refuse - although signign the contract with a ghost who could only communicate by pushing a glass was going to be difficult.
One more thing, shoved James Joyce, Bobby Zamora must go.
If that wouldn't get Lee Culkin flapping back and into the trap, nothing would...
(And hopefully spur Tony Cook into writing again)
Bruce was hunched at the dark end of the bar, fingering the dimples in the side of his whiskey tumbler, trying not to remember why pokers reminded him of his step-father.
The landlord waved his poker above his head, shouted "Time" at the top of his voice and began clearing up empty glasses and ashtrays - the last thing he wanted was glassware flying around his pub in a violent confrontations between Tracy's dad and Bruce.
But suddenly the door crashed open; shaking the empty trophy cabinet (hahahaha oops sorry)
A huge Man filled the door-way; with a cross and a prey book in his hand he took of his dark glasses and shouted " I'm here to bust the ghost; Father Bentnob is my name" The empty trophy cabinet (oops sorry) started to shake
and shards of glass flew around the room.................
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