Boorish Oaf Issues Impudent Decree

SWORTHINGTON—A boorish oaf, his chest puffed out with loutish arrogance, was heard to issue an astonishingly impudent decree at a frightfully loud volume to any and all passersby, reported sources within earshot of the brutish lummox’s proclamation.

The ill-mannered dolt’s churlish dictum was by all accounts so bereft of sense, decency and dignity that a small coterie of bescarved middle-aged socialites were moved to high-pitched outbursts of dismay, with one woman insisting that she had never heard the likes of it and another dropping her monocle on the ground in fright.

In the wake of his discourteous utterance, the cloddish cretin, his bloated face plastered with a smug expression, let loose a belch so wretchedly hearty that several damsels of frail constitution fainted out of shock. His uncouth eruption was followed by a loud, sordid description of the olfactory properties of said burp, which included overtones of cheap ale, deer sausage, and gorgonzola cheese. This revoltingly proud account incited multiple gentlemen of impeccable upbringing to remove their overcoats and challenge the goon to fisticuffs as per Marquess of Queensbury rules, provocations that the odious scissorbill blithely ignored.

“It was as if encountering a belligerent rhinoceros swaggering confidently through the town square!” exclaimed one scandalized gent, daintily mopping his brow with his kerchief while shaking his head in bewilderment. “I have never heard such monstrousness before, and I hope I never encounter it again,” he added, his hands shaking while fumbling for his pipe and bowler hat.

Speculation is currently running rampant as to the origins of the vulgarian. Some have suggested that he resides in one of the ramshackle working-class tenements beyond the railroad tracks, while others suspect that the bold bruiser is some manner of shaved ape, escaped from the local zoo or traveling sideshow. Those more superstitious residents have posited that he crawled oozing from a nearby swamp, dragging his knuckles along the ground in an intemperate stupor.

At press time, the unsavory twit was forcing ice cream sandwiches into his gullet, with reckless disregard for the safety of several well-heeled titans of industry in the proximity, who had collapsed clutching their chests in horror.

 

** Darren Springer is a comedian, actor, writer and water drinker living in Toronto. Please follow him on his Twitter, listen to his podcast. If you don’t, he might overdose on powdered milk.

Darren Springer

Darren Springer is a comedian, actor, writer and water drinker living in Toronto. Please follow him on his Twitter, listen to his podcast. If you don’t, he might overdose on powdered milk.

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