Zonked Yak
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I, unlike cows, GRUNT, rather than MOO

Yaks have horns, and long shaggy hair. "The word Yak is also used to describe an irritating or disagreeable individual" - Wikipedia


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    Welcome to Zonked Yak where yak is, well, generally zonked. Oh, move your cursor over my balls to make cyber yaklings

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    The story to end all stories. College antics come to an end.


    This story could upset sensitive readers, and is rated PG.

    You know the story. The one where you got trashed and stole something that belonged to the US government, and were only saved because your best friend happened to have wingmanned a US senator that night. Substitute any of the words in bold, and your great story is sumarised above. Or maybe not. It no longer matters. Never again will any story be cool. Someone has gone and done it. They have ruined our juvenile lives, and our attempts at one-upmanship.

    And the best bit is, this story has been confirmed 100% true. No names, just in case the FBI is monitoring.

    A South African (a Stellenbosch boy) is living in a cottage in the midlands of the UK with a mate, two Ausies and a Kiwi. They decided that it was high time they tried Schrooms. Being rookies at the drug game, they bought in the region of 15 grams one Sunday.

    The aforementioned rabble live about 5K's out of town, but it's a nice Suday, and they decide to walk to town to shop for a braai. Hungover Kiwi remains behind on the couch.

    When the shopping party return, they notice that the shrooms are almost all gone. At first they are angry, but then curiosity gets the better of them. They find the Kiwi on the couch. This is the hypothetical conversation that ensued:

    "Err.. (Insert random Kiwi name here)... did you chow the schrooms?"

    "Jip"

    "Well? ... How do you feel?!"

    "Chilled. Fine. Relaxed."

    "Emm, when did you munch them?"

    "Just after you guys left."

    "AND? ...I mean, what happened? What did you do?!"

    "Oh, I went to the park."

    "Ja... and did you feel anything?"

    "Not really... Oh, but THERE WERE GNOMES!"

    "Gnomes..."

    "Yes. Oh, AND I CAUGHT ONE!"

    "....!"

    "IT'S UPSTAIRS..."

    Before you can say "holy mother of all things ridiculous" they boys have run upstairs. Here they are confronted by a cupboard that has been jammed shut by having a hockey stick rammed into the handles.

    And inside, they suddenly hear a loud THUD!.... And again!

    Now when confronted with such a situation, precautions should possibly be taken. Have they lied to us again? Is this one of those Santa scenarios, where we only get to find out that there are gnomes on our 30th birthdays? Is it dangerous?!

    20 Minutes later, they decide democratically to open the cupboard.

    Inside, they find...

    A laundry bag. With something angry and jumping inside!

    Unable to take it anymore, they open the bag.

    And find...



    ...





    ...









    ....





    A DOWN SYNDROME CHILD!




    I can't take it. It's too sad, too frightening, too damn funny, too damn emotional, too scary, too weird. It wins. Hands down.

    Anyway, they took it to the police station. ("Hi there, we found THIS in the park...")

    Confirmed true. Insane.


    Posted by the yak on Tuesday, September 19, 2006 at 4:35 AM | Permalink | Comments

    Ahh! I though I'd lost some time there somewhere...

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