Bob Car Takes out the Trash
January 11th 2007 11:11
This is barely relevant to anything anymore, but I'll post it anyway... it's in reference to a comment to Bob Carr once made, "Obey the law, or leave the country"
SCENE: DAYTIME, A STREET.
An old lady is walking along, clutching at her old handbag. Two scruffy-headed Arabic youths step out from the shadows of an alleyway and pull her up against the wall, a knife is pressed up under her chin cautioningly and one of the thugs peels her handbag from her whitened knuckles. She bites her lip in fear and scrunches her eyes up.
The two thugs are broken from their reverie by the pig-snortery of a harley pulling up into the gutter. Bob Carr sits astride the mighty engine, back straight, a fat cigar clamped between his teeth.
BOB CARR: My, my... what do we have here?
One of the two arabs breaks away from the old woman and pulls a machete from a sheath on his belt.
THUG: Ay cunt, you wanna be a sick cunt? You wanna fuck with this? Ay? C'mon then...
Bob Carr looks unmoved by the threats, he casually strikes a match against his thigh and lights the cigar, puffing great plumes of black smoke into the face of the thug.
BOB CARR: Obey the law or leave the country.
The other thug whips around angrily, the old lady running off as he does so.
THUG 2: You full rascist skippy poofta!!!
Bob Carr slides off the still-chugging harley, fiddles with a combination padlock that hangs from his waist and unlocks the heavy duty chain that he has been wearing as a belt. All whilst staring smugly at the thugs. He hefts the chain into his other hand, feeling the weight of the padlock attached to it's end.
BOB CARR: It's time to make some CHAINges.
SCENE: DAYTIME, A STREET.
An old lady is walking along, clutching at her old handbag. Two scruffy-headed Arabic youths step out from the shadows of an alleyway and pull her up against the wall, a knife is pressed up under her chin cautioningly and one of the thugs peels her handbag from her whitened knuckles. She bites her lip in fear and scrunches her eyes up.
The two thugs are broken from their reverie by the pig-snortery of a harley pulling up into the gutter. Bob Carr sits astride the mighty engine, back straight, a fat cigar clamped between his teeth.
BOB CARR: My, my... what do we have here?
One of the two arabs breaks away from the old woman and pulls a machete from a sheath on his belt.
THUG: Ay cunt, you wanna be a sick cunt? You wanna fuck with this? Ay? C'mon then...
Bob Carr looks unmoved by the threats, he casually strikes a match against his thigh and lights the cigar, puffing great plumes of black smoke into the face of the thug.
BOB CARR: Obey the law or leave the country.
The other thug whips around angrily, the old lady running off as he does so.
THUG 2: You full rascist skippy poofta!!!
Bob Carr slides off the still-chugging harley, fiddles with a combination padlock that hangs from his waist and unlocks the heavy duty chain that he has been wearing as a belt. All whilst staring smugly at the thugs. He hefts the chain into his other hand, feeling the weight of the padlock attached to it's end.
BOB CARR: It's time to make some CHAINges.
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