The Resta Rawt

In the restaurant.

I went to a restaurant. I needed a rest from my wife’s cooking. Actually – she had left me the night before and I can not cook more than a slice of toast which always popped up burnt.

I looked in my fridge and after moving her severed head aside – concluded there was nothing to eat.

So I went out to the local restaurant. I have never been there before.

No idea what kind of restaurant it was. I presumed it made food and fed you.

I sat down and attempted to navigate around the menu offering offal. Heart, lungs, intestines, kidneys, bowels and spinal cords.

I called over the nearest waiter, dressed quite smartly in total white. Politely I asked in a rather loud voice, as I had had a hard day hacking up the wife -

‘Hey, twat head, I didn’t come here to be offered on the menu the bits I just ripped out my ex. I want some chop suey and chop chop. With some basmati rice. Got it? You fucking idiot.’

The man ran off really chop chop. I was amazed – within 10 minutes I was served by 6 waiters in dark uniforms serving me an arrest warrant for disturbing the peace. Well…

I kicked up a serious storm.

My nick name is King Kong Kill – an expert in Kung Fu. It was I who kicked the shit of Bruce Lee because his ‘eeeh..ya.hat- hat eish’ yowling got on my nerves.

Besides the point.

Now I must kick to death a load of wasters refusing to wait on me. What a waste of bother boots – I wonder why I bother?

With the waiters dead and no sign of my food, I wandered out.

Looked about – then clocked I had accidently gone into an organ donation clinic.

Ahh – what the fuck. Next door was a KFC. I love deep fried chicken.