Who can it be knocking at my door?
Go 'way, don't come 'round here no more�
Bright and early Saturday morning I was awoken by the sound of some asstard ringing my door bell. I managed to pull myself from my perch on my king size bed and glanced out the window.
�It�s some damn cleaning company,� I muttered to my wife. She in turn went on to explain she had called this company to come clean our carpets but had canceled them Monday morning for some undisclosed reason. �Great,� I said, �I wonder how long that ass clown is going to hang out on our front porch?�
*DING-DONG*
Since I was a latch key kid in the eighties, I was bread to not answer the door for strangers and as such I am deathly afraid of speaking to anyone I don�t know. So I figured I�d let the guy sit there for a few minutes and he would just go on about his business. I couldn�t of been more wrong.
Several minutes had passed. I decided since I was already up, I should just get off my ass and go mow the yard. So I headed down stairs. As I passed one of the windows facing the driveway, I could see the dumb ass sitting in his car. �What the hell is he waiting for,� I thought.
I proceeded to strap on my fancy, grass stained sneakers. I had every plan of finally going out there and telling this ass hat we canceled the appointment nearly a week ago and he should tell his shit bag company to try and update their scheduling practices, when he finally pulled out of the drive and left.
I spent the next couple of hours mowing and trimming the yard. As I headed back in I noticed a slip had been placed in my front door. I walked over to pick it up. A fucking bill, the ass munch, who can�t check the god damn call logs to see we canceled, thought he would go ahead and try and charge me $90 for services not rendered. I decided I would take it up with his company on Monday.
Fast forward to Monday morning, I am standing in front of the Happy Hanks Cancer Causing Chemical Cleaning Company with my AR15 in hand. I kick open the front door and start popping off rounds into anyone that moved. I paused momentarily to change clips. As I did a bald man tried to run past me towards the back exit. I popped off a round into his kidneys and he tumbled over onto the ground.
As I took in the site of my Politically Correct induced rampage, I realized I went in the wrong door. I had mistakenly entered the Friendly Frank Adoption Agency, which shares the office building with Happy Hanks. I will have to remember to write the realtor of the building and inform them of how poorly they have marked the entrances to their tenements� offices.
Seriously though, when my wife called Monday morning, they apologized and offered to come clean my house again at the ass crack of dawn next Saturday. They were kindly informed to go bugger off.
I have been keeping my own little dictionary of translations between UK and American versions of English. Here are just a few I have discovered:
Bum = Ass
Bum Bag = Fanny Pack
Bird = Chick
Bloke = Dude
Binder = Fag
Bugger Off = Fuck Off
I would put more, but as I was actually writing those out, I came to the realization that every swear word in the UK starts with the letter B. Bloody Hell.
Have fun,
j
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