| Stories From The Head |
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The Underfetting Of The Greks
Svatopluk* had never enjoyed sailing much, but his father, Kyrillos*, had
forced him to come this time. Svatopluk’s mother, Rostislav, on the other
hand, loved sailing. Not because of the sea, not because of the fact that
when sailing, she had a break from her imprisonment in the cellar, but
because she had the chance to spot the ridiculously beautiful Kashubians*
swimming next to the boat. When lucky, she could also catch a glimpse of
one, or maybe two greks trying to underfett each other. This was, of course,
only when she was really lucky. Svatopluk didn’t care much neither for his
father (Kyrillos), nor for his mother (Rostislav). This was due to the fact
that they both were made out of ontrollpanel, a lovely-smelling clay
reminiscent of liksom. The scream from the depths of Kyrillos’ stomach was
NOT to be mistaken: "RENNEKLØKT...RENNEKLØKT...RENNEKLØKT...! Svatopluk and
Rostislav didn’t know what to think. Had Kyrillos gone insane? Had the pimsa
gone to his mind? They both waited in agonising excitement... Kyrillos
opened his mouth: "Oh, did I say "rennekløkt"? Of course, I meant "Krøttingsgakk"!
The relief was indescribable, and as the misunderstanding had its clearance,
the three of them understood HOW little all this really meant... |
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