Óvitaverkin í Bretlandi

Ég var að lesa frábæra lýsingu á óvitaverknum í Bretlandi. Já, ég sagði óvitaverk, því að þetta voru tæpast hryðjuverk. Varð einhver hræddur? Þeir gátu ekki einu sinni sprengt upp bíl, menn með doktorspróf og alles. Eina fólkið sem kom illa úr þessu voru óvitarnir sem kveiktu í sjálfum sér og reyndu að keyra inn í flugvöll. Eeeeeen hvað um það, greinin er skrifuð frá sjónarhorni eins óvitans. Hér eru nokkrir gullmolar úr greininni:

Long story short, we decided to draw straws. And guess who wins? Yep, yours truly, good old sucker Khalid, the same guy with a pile of charge card receipts for petrol and propane and hardware. The same guy who ended up having to host two thirds of the martyrdom planning parties at HIS house, because his good old college “pals” always have some convenient excuse about “kitchen remodeling” or “MI6 surveillance,” and never lift a finger to help clean up the empty bottles or paper plates or the C5 mess. Well, you know what they say: no good deed goes unpunished. Then the other short straw get pulled by Bilal, and I’m like, oh, great. Now I’ll be banging some celestial virgin with that wanker looking over my shoulder.

…

Get this: Mohammed, whose only job it was to call in a simple fucking detonation code, switched his cell carrier to get the new iPhone and forgot to transfer his goddamn detonation contact list. So I’m like, “how about Bilal? Did he explode? Please tell me exploded.” The dopey expressions around the room told me otherwise. Faaaack. Now there’s NO dead infidels, NO horny virgins, and I’m out one leased Mercedes with a £12,000 balloon payment.

og að lokum:

Final box score: I’m out one Mercedes, one Jeep, £2000 in miscellaneous bomb materials, three layers of skin, and one very low-mileage penis. Infidels killed: nil. So the next time you want to bitch to me about how bad your day is going, don’t expect a lot of sympathy

Ég mæli með því að þið lesið þetta í heild sinni, mér þótti þetta a.m.k. frekar fyndið.