Kudos to me for selling out like a filthy, filthy whore!
Dear readers,
It is with a mixture of spine-tingling excitement, heart-shattering fear and mild embarrassment that I make the following pronouncement. Starting tomorrow I will be a contributing columnist for the Quick DFW.
Those of you unfamiliar with this free weekday publication may recognize Quick from its more common use as makeshift bed linens for the area’s homeless. But this is not its sole purpose of publication. Say you were forced to ride the DART system; perhaps your luxury sedan was in the shop and they were unable to assign a rental vehicle to you. Or you bludgeoned your driver with a marble salt shaker without first hiring a replacement servant. Or maybe you were kidnapped, knocked unconscious, then freed in a remote part of town and forced to take public transportation. However you ended up on the DART you no doubt came across this newspaper. The Quick is what you will see insane perverts pretending to read while they are being sexually aroused by the mass transit vehicle's centrifugal momentum.
I urge all of you to pick up a copy of the Quick each Monday and enjoy my enchanting whimsy over breakfast, brunch, lunch, coffee, or the carcass of a recently murdered enemy. My column is designed to fill most of your emotional voids and compliment your psychosomatic foibles. Then communicate to the Quick editor via digital correspondence, postal parcel, or carrier pigeon how much you love my work, finding it to be the literary equivalent of an awkward yet affectionate dry hump.
Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther
It is with a mixture of spine-tingling excitement, heart-shattering fear and mild embarrassment that I make the following pronouncement. Starting tomorrow I will be a contributing columnist for the Quick DFW.
Those of you unfamiliar with this free weekday publication may recognize Quick from its more common use as makeshift bed linens for the area’s homeless. But this is not its sole purpose of publication. Say you were forced to ride the DART system; perhaps your luxury sedan was in the shop and they were unable to assign a rental vehicle to you. Or you bludgeoned your driver with a marble salt shaker without first hiring a replacement servant. Or maybe you were kidnapped, knocked unconscious, then freed in a remote part of town and forced to take public transportation. However you ended up on the DART you no doubt came across this newspaper. The Quick is what you will see insane perverts pretending to read while they are being sexually aroused by the mass transit vehicle's centrifugal momentum.
I urge all of you to pick up a copy of the Quick each Monday and enjoy my enchanting whimsy over breakfast, brunch, lunch, coffee, or the carcass of a recently murdered enemy. My column is designed to fill most of your emotional voids and compliment your psychosomatic foibles. Then communicate to the Quick editor via digital correspondence, postal parcel, or carrier pigeon how much you love my work, finding it to be the literary equivalent of an awkward yet affectionate dry hump.
Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther