There I was, busy perusing images of sparsely clad bitches on the internet when my better half entered the internet cafe (problems with connection at home) and produced a foil wrapped gem - a kebab!
"Christ on a bike, women! How the fuck did you manage to get your hands on one of those beauties?!"
Forgetting that my computer monitor currently boasted a huge set of breasts and a neatly shaven twat, I lurched towards the direction of the kebab like a salivating mongrel, held it aloft like a magic sword and bellowed for all present in the net shop to hear...Yesss! I've got a fucking kebab! So fuck you and you and fuck you too!
Obviously I put pay to the fucker AT ONCE! Three large bites and it was gone, although I was now wearing hearty portions of meat and salad all over my t-shirt, such was the enthusiasm for this particular repast.
Alas, it was gone! My first kebab in half a decade had been disposed of in record time and now a huge barren void swept over me. I felt empty, alone, without a purpose to continue in this cold, cold world.
I grabbed my wife by the scruff of her neck and demanded - 'Is there more? There better be more? Where did you get the fucking thing? Tell me immediately else I'll be filing for a divorce in the next five seconds!
She directed me to the vendor who lurked with sweet, sweet intent outside a busy high-street bank.
Well, hello there, you brazen harlot! Prepare to see me every hour on the hour, starting right now...
Hmmm. Nice touch. Toasting the pitta bread on the grill like that. Keep this up and I may not be able to supress the overwhelming urge to lustfully kiss your cherry lips.
Salad items and condiments were a touch on the scant side, but we'll overlook this treacherous act of ignorance on this occasion. No green chillis? That is out and out blasphemy...
Hold on! Ketchup? On a fucking kebab? Are you calling me a kunt? Oh well, country dwellers obviously can not be choosers. Please continue..
Adding the chicken from the sacred spinning stick into the mix..
Wrapped in foil and ready to be passionately devoured.
Behold my fearsome kebab, peasants. And shove that basket of sticky rice up your arse while your doing it.
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