Easter

“Neil?”

“Yes darling. How are you on this fine Easter day?”

“I’m very well. There are two things though. One. Easter does not mean shattering hen eggs all over the kitchen. You’re cleaning that up.”

“Sorry.”

“The other thing is this. Whilst I admire your poetic personality, I can’t help thinking that your cards to my parents are getting a bit…well…”

“Hilarious?”

“NO! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SEND TO MY DAD?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this.”

Image

“Oh. That.”

“What the hell does it mean?”

“Erm…”

“WELL?”

“Frasier’s eating your dad.”

“I can see that. WHY?”

“It’s Easter.”

“Fine. Well. I’m not going anywhere near your fucking Creme eggs tonight.

*SLAMS DOOR*

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About neilstilwell

Abseiling into trouble, a sewer rat staring at the stars. Disgusting. You can assist my search for the one ring by buying a Kindle version of this diary from here. http://www.amazon.co.uk/frozen-fridge-Zoomeister-Diaries-ebook/dp/B00C426DD0/ref=sr_1_sc_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1366481719&sr=8-1-spell&keywords=a+frozen+turd+in+a+hot+frudge It has some other stuff in it, and a dreadful cover.
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