the news was given to trevor as he left his news room for a night out on the tiles.
<SOME TIME PASSED>
"Trevor" shouted a man with a crazy hair cut, kinda like he had mash potato insted of hair, "why the fukcing fuck do u spend all night sitting up there on the roof? you do this every friday." it was strange, today wasnt friday so why did the man care that Trevor McDonald was dancing on his roof tiles? ill tell u why u piece of little shit, its becos tiles aren't for having fun, tiles are for rooves (roofs?) no, rooves, and mayb roofers who i like to call roof men.
Trevor looked down at the man smugly,
"i'll tell you why you little shit piece" said trevor as he fell to his death!
Trevor was then crushed and sequently covered in mash potato, the mash potato fella had had enuf of being taken advantage of so to make himself fell big and manly he often covered the corpses of professional men with his slushy mushy head scrapings. "ha! the news reader has now become the news" he sed to himself.... becos he has no friends, becos his hair is made of potatoes. Upset that noone had herd his rather intelligent comment he decided to shout it from the roof tops!
"THE NEWS READER HAS NOW BECOME THE NEWS!" the words resognated from his hollow chest cavity.
"Arrrghhh"
Trevor had come to haunt the man in the embodiment of a baked potato (The potato equivalent of Kryptonite). the potato spun wildly into the mans sweaty excuse of a groin. "oooh that actually feels pretty good". It turned out that wen someone is hit in the groin with their personal form of kryptonite their genitals double in size. MashFace was repeatedly smashed in the groin until his alredy mangled balls swelled up to the size of lil miniture extra large beach balls.
"Arrghhh im so happy with my new ready to use beach testicles!" he screamed. His happiness was long forgotten as his gigantically proportioned balls brought down the roof upont which he stood.
"Arrrghh my beautiful face!" he lied. then he lied in a pool of his own vital mash as it leaked from every crevice. "oooh goodness gracious me." DEAD.
Apparently, consequentily and other words endingly i feel obliged to write a moral or some kinda shit.
Moral = if you read stories that are gay then you eventually become gay, becos listen you hooligan! it may not happen straight away, but some day it'll unleash its homoerotic impertinence upon your day and u'll become gay and then u'll pay attention to the sway of a small boys gaze as he plays his trumpet to the noise of cluttering trays like Faye from steps wood say, "i eat hay because im a horse-like gay like Finley Quaye...." a.k.a. "neeeey!" END
good-day