Sunday 4 October 2015

...of Larrygitis

Larry is so a sickness. Oh yeah. Larrygitis. You get it and you stop making any noise. You can't talk, you can't burp, you can't snivel, your knuckles won't crack, your farts don't blat or hiss or burble, you can't snore, your body, when it moves, doesn't make a single sound, like you were overoiled, your teeth, when you eat, are like colliding cottons. Ah nuts, I ain't named for that. You are though, Larry - larrygitis - you are.
Larry complained to his pa, who was more than firm in denial - loud and long - ridiculing his own kid for being such a stupid, which made Larry exceedingly wroth, so that the next time Cy grabbed Luther, suddenly and from behind, but without including the tree, Larry kicked Luther once in the shins, kneed him twice in the groin, and punched him three quick ones to the stomach. Syph, Cy, and Larry were at last observed by a teacher administering this beating, and all four were hauled before the principal and asked for explanations. Cy couldn't bring himself to talk about his ballooning balls to a person of such dignity, and since he was commanded to speak first, his reluctance put a damper on the others, who decided it was going to be manly to to say nothing no matter what. The "what" was that they were all roundly paddled, including Luther, whom the principal (one Horace McDill) felt must have done something to provoke the attack.

[The Master of Secret Revenges, Gass, W. H.]

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