AS STONED AS AN AFGHANI ADULTERESS*
“You know, sometimes at night you do this weird meerkat thing.”
“What?”
“You suddenly sit bolt upright in bed, totally asleep, look all around, and then flop back down. Just like a meerkat. Like an enormous, talking, farting meerkat.”
“I could be in a travelling freakshow. The Amazing Meerkat Man!”
“People would pay to come see you in your cage. They’d throw peanuts at you. And Milky Way bars. And tiny airline bottles of gin.”
“Cool.”
“And they’d be like, ‘Aww, look at him screw off the cap with his clever little paws!’”
“And I’d be on the freakshow poster, like, in a little picture in the corner, being propelled through the air by wavy lines. People would think it was a jet pack, but it would actually be my own farts.”
“Um. Yes.”
“But I couldn’t mate, though! Because I’d be enormous. They’d give me this little normal-sized meerkat to mate with and I’d be like, ‘What the hell am I supposed to do with this?’ ...I think I’m going off the whole idea.”
“You realise everything you just said is going on my blog tomorrow.”
“Aw, no! Please don’t!”
“Sorry mate. You never called off the record.”
*I apologise for the incredibly poor taste of this header.