I suppose there are other ways. If that filthy bastard were in Hanoi there would be at 1,037 different ways we could barbecue and consume him. Sadly, the five word fuck face still resides in those United States where they are far less creative with pork. Not that they won’t know what to do. It is time we deal with this swine. Each bihex he vomits a handful of noises, and somehow we, the Surreal Times community, have been duped into putting this vapid crap on this front page. No more. I, Zulu Z. Zulu of the Zulu family, will kidnap and eat one pig everyday until “the pig” surrenders himself to be baconized. The front page of our publication, perhaps the only one in the nation devoted to accurately covering these surreal times, should not be wasted on the drivelous moans of a retarded animal who spends much of his day covered in his own shit. Defecate elsewhere you pink freak.
Considering the imminent death of a Times staple we must find a suitable replacement. I have been interviewing people in my neighborhood here in western Ba Dinh, but most have no grasp on surreality much less the English language. Perhaps a trip to the old quarter or West Lake district is overdue. I could sniff out some backpackers in need of activities and even a dollar or two (with Spengleton’s blessing of course). Most of this particular breed of swine are scarcely literate, however if they can manage to blurt out a few coherent sentences (even if accidentally) between beers and English lessons that would put them in a class of writers our “pig” could only dream of achieving.
I will give an over-the-pants hand job to anyone who can find, kill, and eat that motherfucking pig.
Message from the writer to The Surreal Times:
Dear readers and the elite of the surreality intelligentsia,
I don’t mean to damage any egoes by distinguishing between the two. Perhaps they are one unit and I am a bigoted moron to even try to split them. However, I suspect the interests of a select cabal are represented in the pages consciously or otherwise. You likely know where you belong, and if you don’t you are either reading too much or not enough. Get a grip. I came here to inform you of something, as any good newsman would, not to start any spats. Starting soon Zulu Z. Zulu will be writing a column about the ever changing landscape of his current hometown, Hanoi. Some consider its central district, Ba Dinh, to be the center of the universe. The center moves, much like the magnetic poles of our dear planet, however this one depends on our distance to Mars. The center always lies precisely in the middle of Doi Can street, never straying east of Ngoc Ha street and never west of Van Cao boulevard. Western Ba Dinh is too close to Cau Giay to be graced with the universal spotlight. That’s why I moved here, to remain anonymous. This is where I will do my writing. My column will focus on Ba Dinh district, naturally, however sometimes I will venture out when needed to the dusty alleys of Dong Da, the gaudy mansions of Nam Tu Liem, lovely Long Bien, Hoang Mai - whatever that place is -, or the white flight suburbs of West Lake and Truc Bach. Great Change and magnificent stagnation are upon us. I can only hope you enjoy the ride.
Oh, and I’ll have a second column. It will be calling for the murder of that filthy animal that disgraces the cover of our fine publication. I’ve had enough of his five word gibberish. Soon I will convince you too.
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