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ARFA, WHO IS ARFA
It's bin four or more passings since the Matey took der smelly smell away. Me, bein Arfa, don'tcha know, returnin to the Born-Place, telling Deynys, the Full Montyness, what occurin. He fink me such a Hooray, he wantin me to help him wiv the daily-daily runnin of the Home. Me, I'm like a pig in der shitty stuff. I got a better horse, wiv me own wangle sucky if me want one. I even get peeps who ooh and ahh for me. Don't use em. Don't like em. Not nuvver on that, I fink.
See, we have peeps who go out in stick-together, lookin, findin, eatin, bringin back to Home fings they are findin, for all to use. It’s how we live, yer see. Findin stuff for betterin the all-of-us. Well, this one time, them stick-togethers, they returnin. Okay, they getting stuff, but they eatin more than they returnin wiv. Greedy fackers. Then, just like it was nuffin, they sayin about summut that occurin out there. Summut that should be doin nuffin.
They speakin to Deynys, missus restin from der suckin, and there is me, hearin what they sayin, "Member dat old metal fingy we was finkin was dat dere staterateroo? It only gone and litted up, aint it?" That was the gob of Pitter Not The Pitter That Is Dead, Who Was Called Pitter Not The Pitter Who Live First. He gotta longer moniker.
"Yeah, and it sayin like der matey what come from upper dere." speakin Rye, one wiv shorter moniker.
"Uh-oh. Dat carnter be good, finky me." said me, Arfa.
"Arfa. Takin wiv you some of the uvvers, will you? See what Pitter Not The Pitter That Is Dead, Who Was Called Pitter Not The Pitter Who Live First be speakin about will you?"
"Wiv pleasing, yer Full Monty-peep." salutin me. So off I popped wiv my own stick-togethers, down to der place where Pitter Not The Pitter That Is Dead, Who Was Called Pitter Not The Pitter Who Live First spoken where the speakin fing is. We all know it. We all seen it. Not like this though. This ain't same, like. This different. Like.
From walkin wiv der footsies over and under, round and through, we getting to the place where the big metal fing was flashing and speaking. From first word to nuvver, it sayin, "Five hours, fourteen minutes and twenty three seconds to explosion. Thank you for using Better Tech Weapons Incorporated. Please have a nice day. Five hours, fourteen minutes and nineteen seconds to -"
"What the hecky it sayin, Arfa? It sound like that fackin mentaller from upper there to me." sayin Smivey, fore I givin him a smackin round der cranum. Cheeky facker.
"It soundin like it doin numbers from high to lower." said I.
"Fer what reasonin, though?" speakin Tezza. He ain't as stupid as Smivey.
"Dunno. Summut about splosion? Dunno what that is though." speaked me.
"And der Betta Tek Corporin? Wassat?" from Smivey.
"Not a bleedin fingy, matey. Not one eye otter." said I. So I taking a seat there, lookin at der fingy, wonderin what to do bout it.
#
It sayin, "Three hours, three minutes and eighteen seconds." now. Jeebus. Whatta pullarva.
We was waitin, just mindin own buzzwix, when who should come but that old trouble-bubble, Gimmy. Course he have uvvers, but he got such big mowf, he act like three just on his toddy.
"Watcha, Arfa, me old muck. Whatcha gotten dere?" he all shit-eatin mowf, one ear to uvver, throwing his tiddly wanger bout like he a Monty.
"Nuffin fer you, Gimmy. Bugger off." said me. The fingy still sayin less and less numbers. Summut need to be done, obvious.
"Seemin to me, could be wurf a bit, ain't it? Gimme look-see." Gimmy doin pushin us away. Me, obvious, standing there. Make me, was what I was showing, "Shift yer arse, fatty fat fat!"
"Goin and fackin yersell, you - buggerin bugger!" replies I.
So he tryin to hit me in me conk, me movin, him hittin der soundin fing, and summut fall off it. We all run, like buggerit, outa dere! We hidin, me wiv shit pile in me front. Nuffin. Fingy fall on ground, tinky-tanky, then come to rest. Me finkin I might need a washin of me under-cracks. Smelly smell summut bad. Oh well. Then up and at em is Gimmy, sayin it his now. Wanna kick him in the danglies, but punchin and kickin not me way. Arfa is a paci - pafic - pacifisifis - buggerit. Arfa not a fighta. Nuff said.
So me and Tezza and Smivey, we so pissing off, we tell Gimmy to geroudofhit. Then Gimmy and his peeps, they up by the fing, sayin try it, waving their hands about like them are footsies stopping us movin close. Them Larre and Troney. Whatta shitter! Them used to be good peeps, then fallin in wiv the arsey-hole Gimmy. Tried ter get ridden of Gimmy afore, but he relatin to Deynys, so him let Gimmy be arsey-hole, or he stop gettin wangle suckered, by missus. Missus is a venom. She eat you, figurin, if yer waggle yer wangle in der wrong pisspot. Me nevva evva. She don't like me. She toleratin me fer Deynys. Uvverwise me out on me arsey. Me know what side me shitty paper have the shitty shit on it. Still, she good at der sucky - if Deynys face anyfing ter go by.
So he start sayin, dat is Gimmy dat is, he gonna get der Monty, he gonna use der fing to get Deynys to give over the Hat of the Ruling. I was sayin that he could, if and only my body be mulching in der dead-pit. He saying dat can be arranging. Me then forgettin I don't punchin or kickin, begin punchin and kickin. Tezza and Smivey, Larre and Troney, them holdin us separated. We sittin opposing each uvver. Me starin, Gimmy starin. He not able to dead me, me not able to dead him. Not that I wanna, me finking.
#
We sittin there still, when der fing saying, "Zero hours, seven minutes and seventeen seconds," and we not knowin how many zero be. I hoping it a long time.
"What it sayin for, by the by?" askin Gimmy, out of nuffin.
"Dunno," sayin I, "Me finkin it gonna do summut when it go to nuffin."
"Umm, like dat splosion fing it sayin? Wassat when it be at homing?" asking Troney.
"It open up and fingy fallin out? We getta share?" ask Gimmy, wonderin.
"Not likey. Memberin der guvva from upper dere?" askin me, "Well, he takin that smelly smell, and him sayin it danger. Maybe this be a danger too."
"It goin boom, like der time der shitty-pit went foosh? Only it be bigger and gonna dead us." saying Larre, like he sayin to a kiddie-wink, der boogie-woogie guvva gonna eat em in der later, if they don't eaten their dinna.
"What we do? What we do?" askin Gimmy.
Me sayin, "Buggerif-eyenose."
"Zero hours, two minutes and six seconds." it be sayin.
"Umm." we say as we one peep.
Gimmy look to Larre. He shrugging his shoulders. Me wantin to punch his conk to next passing, or der one afta.
"We run?" said Smivey.
"We be hidin?" said Troney.
"We be a runnin and a hidin?" sayin Gimmy.
Tezza sayin, "Muvver?" but that bein no help.
Me sayin, "I finkin we gotta stop it, or we deading us and our kin. Whatcha finkin?" They sayin not a nuvva, but they movin them conks in agreeing way.
"Zero hours, zero minutes and twenty four seconds." it sayin. Me guessing that not very long.
"Shud puller at dem stringy fings, matey." sayin Larre. He smarter than he looking. Which ain't that difficult.
It saying lower and lower number, so whatcha fink me doin? Me grabbing dem stringy fings dat Gimmy showing up from punchin at der fingy that fallin to der ground, and me pulling wiv all me mighty. Der numbers stopping, at seven seconds, whatevva them are. But it not go splodey, which is being a good fing.
#
We returning then, to der Home, and me being anuvva Hooray. Gimmy tellin them all what me done, but I sayin it was all of us, not just being me.
Missus of Deynys is smiling at me now, saving her relater, Gimmy. That good fing at least. No more bitey teef at me now. And what does Deynys, der Full Monty saying, after all?
"Yer orta getta pecka sucked fer dat, Arfa!" him smiling at me.
I be rolling me eyes up there, "Not by yer Montyness, I be hoping."
He just gone on laughing. Whatta git.
Layta!
TRULY THE END
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