If your mother is a hopeless cook,and she's fishing for a compliment,what do you do?
If you tell her Ama your cooking is so yucky,and your curry tastes like coral filtered water,first she'll reel you in,then give you a complimentary smack like that poodle on youtube.
You land against the reef a little retarded,toughened by the wear and tear.You and your siblings trundle not daring to raise a bubble of protest and fin through life like a couple of aimless planktons consuming loveless lifeless foods just waiting for the day that you can jailbreak yourselves out of this shallow misery.
Why would they want to do that?Which offspring doesn't love their mom's cooking?
Oh only the schoolgoing ones that tasted juicy fat worms from clandestine school canteen operators but go home at the end of the day to a showcase saltwater aquarium only to be force feed with store bought pellets like some newly begotten Sipadan hostages.
Let's just say you've all left the spawning grounds after one of you bravely called up 15999 and her mothering instincts get the better of her.This female barracuda in denial o-pond-s a restaurant to redeem herself,perhaps surf on fame and waves of profit since there are so many others that are equally bad yet run successful chiaksailums.We'll show the kids a thing or two.
Sixth sense tells you that such things shouldn't happen but she decides to seal her fate(the seaweeds have partially turned into halal gelatin and clotted all common sense left in her) ignoring all the cringing faces and wrinkled noses when she chances upon some lonely foreign palettes on a shoestring budget.
Strange,but usually these planeteers from Uranus would consider this extremely expensive.You see their idea of cheap leans more towards the coolies or kanchialohs expenditure or better still a free humpback ride.
Fifty reds would make them screech.Why didn't they?Hmmm.This is what natural over sun tanning does.Sting rays out the numb skulls so much they puffer up the ikan bilis they've stumbled upon into Neptune's feast.
All that goes into print cos writers have deadlines .....a way to swim your way out of the deep end.In the end the publicity vouched by such an oceanically spanning publication draws in the curious locals.(You may picture Moby Dick and his open mouth here)
Where the blondes go we flit towards blur as zombie Terengganu sotongs towards the rays of coconut fronds illuminated by Eveready torchlights.It draws undercurrents,the lady gets publicly jolted,embarassed that all and sundry now know just how incomplete and unaccomplished a mermaid she is when Her sexual shortcomings are linked to a urinary discharge.
If I were her.I would fold up my oyster bed,defiantly reregister my pearls under a new name.
But no,no,no thick as a leatherback turtle with Nemos dad as the spokesman What The Fish she seeks to tip the scales of justice in her direction,by raising a war cry,creating whirlpools under the Bra oops I mean Bar,so she can get eel-mortalised in the fishing net,panned by this guppy as such a complete looser no one in Atlantis will ever forget.
If you tell her Ama your cooking is so yucky,and your curry tastes like coral filtered water,first she'll reel you in,then give you a complimentary smack like that poodle on youtube.
You land against the reef a little retarded,toughened by the wear and tear.You and your siblings trundle not daring to raise a bubble of protest and fin through life like a couple of aimless planktons consuming loveless lifeless foods just waiting for the day that you can jailbreak yourselves out of this shallow misery.
Why would they want to do that?Which offspring doesn't love their mom's cooking?
Oh only the schoolgoing ones that tasted juicy fat worms from clandestine school canteen operators but go home at the end of the day to a showcase saltwater aquarium only to be force feed with store bought pellets like some newly begotten Sipadan hostages.
Let's just say you've all left the spawning grounds after one of you bravely called up 15999 and her mothering instincts get the better of her.This female barracuda in denial o-pond-s a restaurant to redeem herself,perhaps surf on fame and waves of profit since there are so many others that are equally bad yet run successful chiaksailums.We'll show the kids a thing or two.
Sixth sense tells you that such things shouldn't happen but she decides to seal her fate(the seaweeds have partially turned into halal gelatin and clotted all common sense left in her) ignoring all the cringing faces and wrinkled noses when she chances upon some lonely foreign palettes on a shoestring budget.
Strange,but usually these planeteers from Uranus would consider this extremely expensive.You see their idea of cheap leans more towards the coolies or kanchialohs expenditure or better still a free humpback ride.
Fifty reds would make them screech.Why didn't they?Hmmm.This is what natural over sun tanning does.Sting rays out the numb skulls so much they puffer up the ikan bilis they've stumbled upon into Neptune's feast.
All that goes into print cos writers have deadlines .....a way to swim your way out of the deep end.In the end the publicity vouched by such an oceanically spanning publication draws in the curious locals.(You may picture Moby Dick and his open mouth here)
Where the blondes go we flit towards blur as zombie Terengganu sotongs towards the rays of coconut fronds illuminated by Eveready torchlights.It draws undercurrents,the lady gets publicly jolted,embarassed that all and sundry now know just how incomplete and unaccomplished a mermaid she is when Her sexual shortcomings are linked to a urinary discharge.
If I were her.I would fold up my oyster bed,defiantly reregister my pearls under a new name.
But no,no,no thick as a leatherback turtle with Nemos dad as the spokesman What The Fish she seeks to tip the scales of justice in her direction,by raising a war cry,creating whirlpools under the Bra oops I mean Bar,so she can get eel-mortalised in the fishing net,panned by this guppy as such a complete looser no one in Atlantis will ever forget.
