Saturday morning, around the 1:30am time slot, I heard yelling from the street. Paid it no attention but sent bad juju vibes to whoever was keeping me awake. Snoozing zone entre, but was not to be when I was jolted awake by a low menacing tone speaking sinister snarlings outside my freaking window. "Hey, Landscaper Cunt, yeah, I know where you live. You fucked my wife, you just wait, I'm going to fuck you up good you fucking cunt." I almost jumped up to look out the window but I reckon I didn't want to antagonise him. Besides the fact that it scared me shiteless. I assumed he was talking about my flattie, who's a landscaper, and I thought 4fuckssakedowehavetogothroughthisshitaga
Told flattie in the morning - bastard hadn't heard it - and he was flabbergastered - "I haven't fucked anyone's wife! I should be so lucky!" I left to help out the mums' and the guy turned up just after - "where's that landscaper cunt?" Flattie: "Ahhh that would be me?" Turned out to be a case of mistaken identity. For farks sake, shit me pants why don't I?
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