New Testingstan

Aaron wrote:I feel sorry for the paper.

starku wrote:Look he wrote a book
I mean we call him ADMIRAL STEPHEN KING rigt

Darksi4190 wrote:And then all his many brothers and sisters (because arabs all have huge families and shit) make chicken for the soldiers that run him over, and Obama's grandma starts a fried chicken franchise.


And no I am not making that up.

Aaron wrote:Damn Ukrainian fucked it up.

It had been a simple road accident, almost mundane. The column of South African trucks had been heading south, on their way to an embarkation port when a young child had run right out in front of the convoy. The lead vehicle had absolutely no chance to stop and it had run him over. The vehicle behind had done the same and so had the one behind that. By the time the convoy had stopped, the child was very obviously very, very dead. The local police had arrived and started to take statements but Klaas had noted nobody seemed to care very much. One woman was weeping quietly but that was all. From her age, she was probably the child's mother.

"Don't you distress yourself, Sergeant." Klaas noted she had his rank right and spoke good English. Mission-taught no doubt. "Nobody liked that little monster. Uppity child, always telling everybody what to do. And this is a good, god-fearing Catholic village. Why his father converted to Moslem we can't understand but he's been a great distress to us all.

...


"Sergeant?" A painfully young South African officer was calling him. "The police have finished interviewing the truck drivers. They are reporting this as a sad accident caused by a child not being taught to respect traffic properly. Between you and me, most of the village do not seem too sympathetic to the family and the child was very unpopular with the others here. They called him the abomination. Apparently it's a play on his name, you know how much Africans like word games.

"You organized all this chicken for your men? Good move, spending money like this will soothe any hurt feelings in the village."

"It's really good chicken, Sir. Try a piece."

The officer did so and a look of sheer delight spread across his face. "My God man, you're not joking. Mother, when this order is done, can you make up another for me? The divisional headquarters will have a feast tonight."

"It will be done, Sir." The woman watched her children redouble their efforts to increase grilled chicken production making sure they didn't take short cuts that would affect the quality of her product.

Around the back of the hut, the execution of chickens was reaching holocaust proportions. The family head was ecstatic at the sheer volume of business and was already working out how to build his family a new home on the profits. That was when he suddenly realized this could be the start of something big and called out to his wife, "Nyarai, look after our guests well and they will bring many more back. And give the sergeant and his officer some free bottles of beer. You see, that horrible little boy was of some use to the village after all."