frère, t'es fou!

"Innocently beckoning the deep down gereatro-fish, I realise that bubbles are not good things to communicate with. I mean those poor guys just stare at you and they look bored out of their minds. Then you catch a fish and they squirm around like it's a game of catch. But it's more than that, it's no game. It's survival, of the fittest. And that would be man, thank you very much. However if it were survival of the fishest, the fish would win, and would be wearing bowties and performing concert piano with their heads probably. What could be more fishy than a fish? two fish? I suppose. But that would be as lame as paralysis. So imagine a world where you are walking around staring at each other and you take a bite into your lunch and all of a sudden you feel something sticking out of your cheek and start getting pulled in. You realize your lunch (microwaveable) was plastic (I THOUGHT THAT WAS MELTED CHEESE!!) and before you know it you are lead away from civilisation to the nearest waterhole where the fishest survive, at the cost of you, innocently trying to put your overtime in and make make make the bake bake bacon. It's a rough road when you can't swim right. I mean there should at least be mud to make things smoother."

Pris d'un blog pas mal fou dans le genre