There's a family who live behind us and their back-garden joins with ours. I like to call them the Backdoor-Neighbours. I'm not saying they love it up the ass or anything. Don't get me wrong... they're probably really nice people and I just like giving people odd names. Anyway, they have kids and them little shits always throw their footballs and other shit into our garden. The Father of the family always comes days and days later to get their shit. There was one time were there were like literally hundreds of them little colourful balls in my garden (them balls you have in ballpools, I dunno how else to describe them) and they were there for like a week. My cousin came over one time and questioned why the fuck there were so many balls in my garden and I told him what's happening n' shit and he goes, "Have you seen their Mum? She's a proper MILF!" I let it go by and acted like I didn't give a fuck what she looked like until today...
This morning it was a lovely day, the sun was out, the grass was long, asking to be cut... and there's KIDS' BALLS IN MY GARDEN! I know that sounds dirty and a bit wrong but yeah, that was literally what was there... again. I stood there and thought to myself "Hmmm! I could throw the balls over the fence and be proper rude", but then I realized NO, this is nature's way of saying, "Go check that MILF out." I don't give a shit what you all say but once someone you haven't seen has been classed as a "MILF" or "hot", I don't care who or what you are, you're going to either look them up on Google or check them out somehow.
But obviously she's my neighbour and I can't Google her unless she's Jessica Alba or Cher or something. I can Google them.. well, not Cher because that's disgusting... I might as well Google "Walking Corpse".
So I grabbed the fanciest plastic bag I could find, which happened to be an Asda bag, went in to that garden, picked up all of them balls and walked all the way round the block as I combed my hair with my hand. I rang the doorbell hoping the MILF would answer... I stood there for 5 minutes like an absolute prune and still no answer. Then I thought the doorbell mustn't be working so I just did the normal thing and knocked... Guess who answered? - THE FUCKING DEVILISH BALL THROWING, LIFE RUINING, WANK BANK DESTROYING LIL SHIT!
There's a lesson in this story... and it isn't going to be "Don't be such a pervert!" because as long as I live here in the street of Castle Green, I'm not leaving until I see what she looks like!!!!
The moral of the story is: Don't have kids... Unless you're ugly, I guess.
Peace.
