Bypass Ferals

One adjective occupants of a hoon nest on wheels,
leant out windowless, mismatched doors,
so far out a truck could have taken them out
without side swiping precious scrap metal.

The driver looked as crazy as confronting arachnophobia
by pashing the dunny Red Back.
He hurled abuse with the gusto of tornados
tossing pagodas like pergolas.
His most riveting repartee was more painfully stupid
than performing acupuncture with a javelin.
The smartest among them lacked the discretion
to tell diamonds on velvet from pebbles on hessian.

The backseat passenger
was the most obnoxious of the troglodyte trio.
Calling that expletive machine gunner a spineless,
hag fish pashing, son of an inbred necrophiliac
would’ve been way too complimentary.
I’d rather teach salt water crocodiles
the art of synchronized swimming
than share oxygen with that arsehole,
having the Ebola Virus
and the Bubonic Plague back to back
would be preferable befriending him.

Fear wasn’t an issue,
I felt about as scared as Blitzkrieg the Pitbull
after receiving death threats from Lullaby the Yorkie.
Back seat bomber thought he was a verbal Tyson.
My words could have hit him like a cloud of ricin.
I informed my antagonist and his bogan crew
“If the Guinea Pig at Pan’s Pesticides gets the flu,
that’s the only way out of the dole queue for you”

The prettiest of the lot had a smile more vile
than necrotic tissue floating
in a Guiness Book of Records sized cyst;
her breathe stank like she’d visited a pub
where the filtered water is vile enough
to inspire a sewer rat to erect a no swimming sign.
I casually informed that putrid wench
that only a drum of sneezing powder
could rid my nostrils of her stench.

Her bare butt out the window was her comeback.
I laughed when I noticed who had the inside track.
If that carload of human detritus
saw the police pull up beside them,
the news contains no propaganda,
Ali was K.O’d by a jockey’s backhander
and I’m a reggae singing salamander.

Earlier that day, the baddy bunch
stole a tablet computer from a cerebral palsied Octogenarian.
Being a prison psychologist,
I’ve been appointed their self-esteem coach,
for the duration of their incarceration.

 

 

 

 

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