Post by spartacus on Apr 5, 2011 22:51:24 GMT -5
Brothers,
I am APPALLED at the poor quality of service given to Nova Hrvatska party officials. I, for one, am sick of it. Case in point yesterday's trip to the supermarket.
I awoke, as usual, eager to get in at least 10,000 calories in my morning meal.
My personal chef and extremist Nova Hrvatska supporter, a Korean named Kwak, prepared a dozen eggs, 50 strips of bacon, a mountain of toast, and a double-serving of MegaMass 4000. I requested seconds, and he sheepishly whined
"Sowwy Boss, we pinished awl de pood. No moar weft."
"We need to get to a supermarket. Now!"
In no time, we were roaring towards the local supermarket. As the stereo blasted Nova Hrvatska music so loud it was heard for a mile around, I mentally prepared my shopping list.
Pulling into the parking lot, Kwak found a great spot within 20 yards of the front door of the supermarket. As we got out of the Rolls Royce, another car pulled up behind us and an incredibly fat, disgusting slob of a woman managed to squeeze herself out and, huffing and puffing, began yelling at Kwak and I.
"That's a handicapped spot. SORRY, but I don't see a sticker on YOUR car. See mine?" she hissed.
We noted, on the window of the car she was driving, whose seats were covered in candy bar wrappers, a 'handicapped sticker'. But I knew that she was really looking to discriminate at Kwak and I because we were wearing Nova Hrvatska insignia on our leather jackets and skull caps. I had to make an example out of her.
I turned to Kwak.
"Wherever is our sticker, Kwak?" I innocently inquired. Kwak lumbered over to the woman's car, took out his bike chain, smashed the windshield to bits, took the bit of glass with the handicapped sticker on it and planted it on our window.
"ROIGHTTT FOOKING there it is boss!" Kwak pointed out. The lady began screaming obscenities at us, and Kwak's bike chain came crashing down over her head. Her fat form did a faceplant on the parking lot, and no doubt her blubber continued jiggling for several minutes afterwards.
With the horrible woman neutralized, we proceeded to enter the grocery store. Already in a foul mood, we threw open the front doors of the supermarket, shattering their glass panes to bits.
"TAKING BLOODY FOOKING CHARGE, PEOPLE!" I roared as I headed down the aisle, fists raised high.
We headed down an aisle looking for the meat section, when we saw two men, holding hands, walking ahead of us. Kwak spread out his arms and, screaming "FOOKING POOFTAHHHS!!!" ran and close-lined them both from behind, sending them sprawling on the floor. Kwak then executed a devastating elbow drop to each of the sodomites, while I did my signature Hollywood Hogan leg drop, and we resumed our shopping, the moral cleansing over.
The next aisle we held a stunning sight- a very beautiful young lady, on a ladder, dusting the top shelf.
The beauty took my breath away. I shyly approached her, and, in a gentle manner, broke the ice.
"My lady, you simply do have the most styling features here in the States!" I cried.
She was caught off guard and while trying to wiggle away fell off of the ladder and hit the floor, knocking herself out cold. I looked about. No one else around. Putting my hands in my pockets and looking as innocent as possible, I lumbered away, whistling a piece by Beethoven.
On the way to the meat counter, Kwak and I filled up two shopping carts with a total of 30 whole chickens, then headed for the beef counter. A young wimp was working the meat counter.
"A side of beef" I snarled. He took out a steak and asked
"This what you're looking for?"
"Let me see that, would you please?" I asked. He handed it to me and I threw it hard into his face, thundering
"A FOOKING SIDE OF BEEF, YOU BASTARD!" Whimpering in fear, he whined
"It's in the back but you can't go there, only employees, you must..."
His high voice was cut off as Kwak tossed him aside and lumbered into the backroom. Finding the meat cooler, Kwak seized a 300 pound side of beef, threw it over his shoulder, and lumbered out. The sound of police sirens drew my concern....Kwak was, after all, on parole for his pro-Nova Hrvatska activities in the local balkan clubs, and false accusations of assault made against him could prove troublesome.
"The back door, Kwak!" I suggested and, pushing two shopping carts full of chickens, led the way out the back door. As 3 police cars, lights flashing, sat in front of the store, and the officers entered the supermarket, Kwak and I casually walked to the Rolls Royce, loaded it up with our food, and sped away.
"Those bastards haven't seen the last of us!" I roared.
The side of beef and 30 chickens should last about two weeks.
But how difficult it is for people to buy food if they support the Nova Hrvatska movement. The authorities make parking difficult, gay men impose their values on us, while the police continue to harass us as we simply wish to shop.
I am APPALLED at the poor quality of service given to Nova Hrvatska party officials. I, for one, am sick of it. Case in point yesterday's trip to the supermarket.
I awoke, as usual, eager to get in at least 10,000 calories in my morning meal.
My personal chef and extremist Nova Hrvatska supporter, a Korean named Kwak, prepared a dozen eggs, 50 strips of bacon, a mountain of toast, and a double-serving of MegaMass 4000. I requested seconds, and he sheepishly whined
"Sowwy Boss, we pinished awl de pood. No moar weft."
"We need to get to a supermarket. Now!"
In no time, we were roaring towards the local supermarket. As the stereo blasted Nova Hrvatska music so loud it was heard for a mile around, I mentally prepared my shopping list.
Pulling into the parking lot, Kwak found a great spot within 20 yards of the front door of the supermarket. As we got out of the Rolls Royce, another car pulled up behind us and an incredibly fat, disgusting slob of a woman managed to squeeze herself out and, huffing and puffing, began yelling at Kwak and I.
"That's a handicapped spot. SORRY, but I don't see a sticker on YOUR car. See mine?" she hissed.
We noted, on the window of the car she was driving, whose seats were covered in candy bar wrappers, a 'handicapped sticker'. But I knew that she was really looking to discriminate at Kwak and I because we were wearing Nova Hrvatska insignia on our leather jackets and skull caps. I had to make an example out of her.
I turned to Kwak.
"Wherever is our sticker, Kwak?" I innocently inquired. Kwak lumbered over to the woman's car, took out his bike chain, smashed the windshield to bits, took the bit of glass with the handicapped sticker on it and planted it on our window.
"ROIGHTTT FOOKING there it is boss!" Kwak pointed out. The lady began screaming obscenities at us, and Kwak's bike chain came crashing down over her head. Her fat form did a faceplant on the parking lot, and no doubt her blubber continued jiggling for several minutes afterwards.
With the horrible woman neutralized, we proceeded to enter the grocery store. Already in a foul mood, we threw open the front doors of the supermarket, shattering their glass panes to bits.
"TAKING BLOODY FOOKING CHARGE, PEOPLE!" I roared as I headed down the aisle, fists raised high.
We headed down an aisle looking for the meat section, when we saw two men, holding hands, walking ahead of us. Kwak spread out his arms and, screaming "FOOKING POOFTAHHHS!!!" ran and close-lined them both from behind, sending them sprawling on the floor. Kwak then executed a devastating elbow drop to each of the sodomites, while I did my signature Hollywood Hogan leg drop, and we resumed our shopping, the moral cleansing over.
The next aisle we held a stunning sight- a very beautiful young lady, on a ladder, dusting the top shelf.
The beauty took my breath away. I shyly approached her, and, in a gentle manner, broke the ice.
"My lady, you simply do have the most styling features here in the States!" I cried.
She was caught off guard and while trying to wiggle away fell off of the ladder and hit the floor, knocking herself out cold. I looked about. No one else around. Putting my hands in my pockets and looking as innocent as possible, I lumbered away, whistling a piece by Beethoven.
On the way to the meat counter, Kwak and I filled up two shopping carts with a total of 30 whole chickens, then headed for the beef counter. A young wimp was working the meat counter.
"A side of beef" I snarled. He took out a steak and asked
"This what you're looking for?"
"Let me see that, would you please?" I asked. He handed it to me and I threw it hard into his face, thundering
"A FOOKING SIDE OF BEEF, YOU BASTARD!" Whimpering in fear, he whined
"It's in the back but you can't go there, only employees, you must..."
His high voice was cut off as Kwak tossed him aside and lumbered into the backroom. Finding the meat cooler, Kwak seized a 300 pound side of beef, threw it over his shoulder, and lumbered out. The sound of police sirens drew my concern....Kwak was, after all, on parole for his pro-Nova Hrvatska activities in the local balkan clubs, and false accusations of assault made against him could prove troublesome.
"The back door, Kwak!" I suggested and, pushing two shopping carts full of chickens, led the way out the back door. As 3 police cars, lights flashing, sat in front of the store, and the officers entered the supermarket, Kwak and I casually walked to the Rolls Royce, loaded it up with our food, and sped away.
"Those bastards haven't seen the last of us!" I roared.
The side of beef and 30 chickens should last about two weeks.
But how difficult it is for people to buy food if they support the Nova Hrvatska movement. The authorities make parking difficult, gay men impose their values on us, while the police continue to harass us as we simply wish to shop.