Ye Guts for Garters Pub
Forums › Families & Vendettas › Ye Guts for Garters Pub-
A chaser?
-
YOU wrote:
I’ll have what he wasn’t having.
Visɧɓuɱe wrote:
A chaser?
And make it a stiff one! -
The unmistakable sounds of the boots of the sheriff and his deputies could be heard marching up the pavement outside the Garter.
“The Sheriff of Turf Wars city; you are hereby commanded,
To take the body of Mr. Gouki, if to be found in your city and him safely keep, so that you have him before a judge of our Turf Wars city circuit court, to be held for the city of Turf Wars at the courthouse in the townland of the gaslight district, on the third Monday of May next, to answer to the state of Turf Wars upon indecently exposing himself, in a drunken state.
Fail not, and have you then this writ.”Eyes turn to Geoff.
-
“Even if you were to clear my tab honest Geoff,I could still not procure for you that of which you so urgently seek,” insisted Tom with a certain urgency in his reply.
Geoff’s ears sensed a certain mockery but felt remarking upon the word “honest” would leave him vulnerable to more back talk;.Why already surrounding faces in the musty bar sported barely stifled all-knowing smiles and openly teared up eyes,amongst much elbowing and foot kicking. -
“A person such as yourself should be able to source me at least a third class relic,” insisted Geoff.He continued plaintively,” Fadder Charlie Siegel misplaced one of his set of 3 sanctified shin bone relics from the creature Simcoe in this very establishment! I cannot control the winds let alone what or when some punter,” here Geoff eyed Deadly meaningfully ,” throws negligently into the bubbling stew pots”.
-
“I do appreciate your conflict honourable Geoff but must recite the question “what do I,humble Tom,know of such things?”,”
Looking the other way Geoff spoke aloud to a nodding Mister Robot with the topic of turning miscreant’s backs to jelly,all the whilst gesticulating most convincingly pseudo actions to the effect.
“Tom,I am not unreasonable and do not ask for a nose”, here he raised his hand to silence the other, ”for I know that noses make for poor relics that end up looking like old dried up rashers in the end and so I come to you in that you,you dieran,most certainly can deliver a shin bone!”. -
“Me?!,” blubbered Tom,truly mystified.
“Why of course! For is it not you who deals with glues and horse heads? Surely shins were attached to those heads.Madduxio could nibble it down to a size and Big Cat have it consecrated somewhere.Nexx assures me that this can be easily contrived.”
Wily Geoff thought Tom as he set off to set the process into action. -
🎩 a proper hat rack would provide appearance of overindulged aristocracy. No matter, I’ll slap it on the rusty bucket asleep on the bar. A rumor of short Argentinian and his messi business affairs called me here. To Tom a bowl of three day old haggis or some spotted dick, of which no matter. A pint of stout for myself, if you don’t mind. 💵💵. Shins, shins, shins. Always Tom’s shortcoming.
-
🤣🤣🤣🤣👏👏👏
-
Geoff had to investigate further that shiver of a shine in the early morning sun. Yes! It was a coin, submerged in the discarded sludge like waste gathered in the city street sewer.
Cleaning it down it delighted his dishelvelled face. He could go to the Garter and have a hot meal.“Get the fuck out!” Greeted Geoff on his arrival through the Garter door.
“I have legal tender good sir!”
“Fine, but we’ve not forgotten your last befouling”.
Geoff queried what his coinage could procure.
A bowl of unknown stew is all you can afford!
Beggars not being choosers, Geoff gobbled it down by the warmth of the morning open fire.
Thinking of his next source of stout, the unknown contents quickly navigated the worn canals of his lower bowls. A dash to the thrown of the hardy souls was in order. -
Geoff gleamed as he stood back with one hand resting on his protruding left hip and other negligently cupping his scrotum as he admiringly approved his handiwork.Satisfied with the assessment,Geoff polished off the last of a Linden Village cider sitting nearby straight from the flagon,ignoring the protests of a spotty upturned face. All that was left to be done was put the lights on; a Christmas tree is not a festive one without its shitty twinkling lights his Grandpop used to say,face lit up like an angry disgruntled elf. But Geoff had grown tired of the thankless job already and moved back to behind the bar.Let somebody else find the cursed plug from amongst all the strewn garments that had been piled over the tree this last year he spat,followed by a massive cider belch for good measure.
-
Foaming from one corner of his mouth, teeth clenched hard, sat upwardly leaning towards the seat infront, along the back row of a city service public bus, Boa eyes lit as a young, attractive man was entering, paying his fair. Timm, unaware of the luring eyes that cast from the back row, took his seat mid way.
It was only after a few minutes of the journey that Timm, along with his fellow passengers began to notice the over aflaming bestial lamentations coming from the man with the open trench coat from the back seat.
It was the shear excitement of the delusional existence created in his mind that facilitated the greasing of the todger. -
A chance encounter with a wandering mongrel sparked Geoff’s curiosity.Its hindquarters a glowing strawberry ice cream pink at odds with its mottled whole were at odds with the pristine pucker.Geoff fed it some sausages doused in congealed stout which it ate ravenously.Patience was not an issue as the dog soon emptied itself in rapid splattered convulsions,the pink gibing way to dark expanding ripples bubbling up from its pud and dribbling down its legs.The resultant sauce attracted the immediate attention of a greasy fine stranded small headed urchin,who obviously lay in wait,who greedily picked up the dog to lick the befouled well back to its pink wholesomeness.The dog did not protest due to it being a habitual it could be discerned.Geoff watched and the urchin after its frenzied feed skulked off,sated,back to from whence it came.Kungfu a knowledgeable client spoke aloud to take Geoff out of his reverie.
-
It was a chance encounter with a wandering mongrel sparked Geoff’s curiosity.The dog’s hindquarters were a glowing strawberry ice cream pink at odds with its mottled whole.The pristine pucker as an oasis mused Geoff.He proceeded to fetch and feed the attentive dog some sausages doused in congealed stout which it ate ravenously.Patience was not an issue as the dog soon emptied itself in rapid splattered convulsions,the pink giving way to dark expanding ripples bubbling up from its pud and dribbling down its legs.The resultant sauce attracted the almost immediate attention of a small scraggly headed urchin,who had obviously lain in wait.He wrung his greasy hands in delight,whistled and lifted up the dog to lick the befouled well back to its pink wholesomeness.There was no protest from the dog; due to it being a habitual act it could be discerned.The urchin after its frenzied feed skulked away,sated and licking lips,whence it came.”Kungfu”,a knowledgeable client spoke aloud to take Geoff out of his reverie.
-
Hearing of the news that his red overlord had successfully tested a new long range missile, the jubilant kungfu tucked into his surfeiting koc yumurtasi with a side of kokorec.
While in the mist of munching the repugnant dish, the thoughts of the ballistic missile being launched crossed his contorted mind. The wonderous thoughts sped blood to his phallus muscle, with shear delights of cylindrical objects flowing through his hiyar mind, the duplicitous kungfu shoved his appendage deep into his trousers searching for his Erdogan. With a sauce laden jerk, it was all over in an instance.
Time to head down to the Garter and see who is about to annoy with his shameless perspective on current warfares. -
The regulars at the bar had enough of the constant scurry that flowed from the slithery gob of Boa. His brutal observations had earned him the nickname ‘thrush’ amongst the hardy regulars, as they affectionately known him, as he is an irritating cnut.
For most part he was largely ignored as he sat in a corner table alone.
But gradually he was moving closer and closer to the bar, and started to occupy a seat next to the regulars, hoping to earn their respect.
Big Mick sat down, shouted a pint of stout noting Geoff was nowhere to be seen, only enhancing his Friday night tipple.
Then he heard the words ‘greasy Timm’ muttered from the bar.
“Who the fuck let thrush sit at the bar!!” came the protestations.
Alas, Boa was relegated to the piss soaked cobble alley to the rear, face down with lips massaging the warmth of Joxers relievings.
He was firmly back where he belonged, cemeted by the jeering laughter from within the Garter. -
Feckless looders and gobsheens gathered like flies to shite.
The stench of piss dry glad rags polluted the air.
A sole voice commanded a question ‘any Dutchies?’
Two heads perked up from their rolling passtime, quickly looked back down, not to draw attention to their smoke filled corner of the Garter, their solice greatly valued.
Amongst the rustle n bustle of the general bar area, a glass smashes and a roar of ‘FUCK OFF!’ echoes out.
Ales & stouts continuously flow in the warmth of the Garter air. -
Gouki had not been seen for an age. He stumbled into Turf Wars city one hazey autumnal morning, entering the Garter just after early morn opening, hoping to avoid the regulars.
The bar appeared empty, as he sat up upon a high stool, Geoff appeared around the corner.
Gouki took his hands away from the stool as he assisted himself up, dismayed to find them covered in a grey sticky substance.
“Eh, no one uses that seat anymore, a guy called Boa started coming here for a time and always sat there. He, err, had this thing, emmm, about his ‘friend’ Greasy Timm, and would, eh, enjoy himself sitting there, we never bothered to clean, infact we couldnt bear to go near it even to dispose of it”.
Gouki sat off the high stool, holding both hands out, made a dash for the restrooms. Boa leavings eched into his skin. -
Young Rust had never been to the Garter before.
Several years ago he used to adore tales from his uncle pasta kid, when as a young boy his mom would drag him up to the Portland Lunatic Asylum to visit that pesky uncle, and hear how his bigshot uncle would dominate those who he singled out, without motivate, save his dark desires.
Visits got less frequent as the years went by as pasta declined into a drouling mute, his own vile slooping down his chin and neck, massaging between the chains that rendered him inmovable.
Ideas of grandeur floated Rustys head, surely a hero’s welcome awaited him in the wonderful Garter.
Saturday night, the city’s toughest on show, he made his proud entrance.
On annoucement, eyes turned indiscernibily away, “aw fuck him, another cunt apple fell from the cunt tree” mubbled from within. -
Raucous calls vouch for the name of DML!
-
You guys casually acting out a work worthy of Shakespeare on this forgotten thread
-
Heads are reeling in the Garter.Sumpcoil begs permission to release yet soils himself anew with the blossoming wet patch drawing praise from some lacklustre street urchins.
-
Bogged knee deep, unable to move, a rich mixture of wet muck and blended cow dung, a hapless buckeen struggles to free himself. A hungry jackdaw circles over head, eyeing the half open orange in his tattered jacket pocket, more holes than coat.
In one last final effort to release, a condescending smirk cut on his cold face, launches both hands deep below the right knee to finally pull clear of the hold only to find all four limbs stuck.
In a humped over position, the jackdaw imperviously lands on the gombeens back, faces the exposed crack of the arse, well exposed as the prominent feature of the slouched flunkee, begins to pluck the dark hairs from dark ordured valley. -
Debatable. That was the word that swooped upon the young person’s head.Much to think about thought the self same person,mindlessly shaking piss off their dispenser.The,….the rat-a-tat-tat at the cubicle door brought the person back into the fold as it were.”Well?”,asked the inquisitive voice leaking in through the hanging door,then the self same voice was offering the plum observation that whatever it had in its hand wouldn’t suck itself.
-
With the squelch of the piss laden floor under his tattered sneekers, the young well travelled explorer, whip coiled at the hip, manouevers into place to execute the reach-around.
Both parties reach a nervous, yet excited, climax. Truck stop restrooms now firmly on the explorers itinerary. -
Mad Mark, fresh from a zero blade all over, exits the barbershop.
6ft 4” and built like a tank, newspaper folded under one arm, lights a smoke and starts to make his way to his beloved Garter.
Known not to be disturbed or challenged, his leisurely stroll is interupted by two christian elders.
“Excuse me sir, what is the most wonderful thing about the world?”
He stops, smoke dangling from his lips, instantly replies “Jesus, of course”.
Delighted the two elders high five each other.
He abruptly continues with a sharp smirk, “even without him Arsenal will still win the league!”
“Now if you dont mind, some caants are waiting me in the Garter”. -
“Interesting concepts,” intercepted one from his barstool as froth brimmed and spilleth over the voluptuous lips of the thumper of his considered revered book.The words seemed to charge the fanatic further whose eyes bulged further out like twisting potato sprouts,”pond scum!” he screeched just as Geoff launched a smart kick at the shrieker’s gonads.”Preach that twisted shite elsewhere,” counselled Geoff,towering over the now moaning,abject and chastened form,which not long before had been strumming itself from behind a cubicle door with sweet abandon.
-
Interesting concepts,” intercepted one from his barstool as froth brimmed and spilleth over the voluptuous lips of the thumper of his considered revered book.The words seemed to charge the fanatic afresh whose eyes bulged further out like twisting potato sprouts,”pond scum!” he screeched just as Geoff launched a smart kick at the shrieker’s gonads.”Preach that twisted shite elsewhere,” counselled Geoff,towering over the now moaning,abject and chastened form,which not long before had been strumming itself from behind a cubicle door with sweet abandon.
-
Barely able to speak, requesting a royal tipple, the pretender to the throne slouches to a corner with a spice bag and curry sauce, fresh from the Golden Wok. Unable to self motivate, a dark corner in the Garter was the best imaginable solution.
-
༺ ᗪᗰᒪ ༻ wrote:
Haha,ahoy!Several days passeth by and a growingly frustrated Emma had not shared the moist pipe from the bottom of the slopps barrel.
No one availing of the generous hand relief offer, and in search of tender to procure, she once again travailed the now crowded Garter slush hall, a busy Wednesday evening shall surely prove more prosperous than the dim Monday morn.
Burly men slushed ales and stouts, oblivious to the Skankly clad young flunky working the shop floor.
Geoff spotted his opportunity, amongst the dank passings, escorted her to a side door where he availed of a sticky erdogan, and a couple of sharp yanks and it was all over.
Geoff, with an obvious expression of relievement etched onto his face, and living up to his side of the bargain produced a grey, semi solid fluid, consumption and acceptance very much to the fore of her mind, glady gargled down the offing with a sticky hand.
![[][]](https://turfwarsapp.com/img/app/ajax-forbutton.gif)
Purchase Respect Points NEW! · Support · Turf Map · Terms · Privacy
©2021 MeanFreePath LLC