If you've followed this blog for any discernible amount of time, you'll remember that the office across the hall from my company's is full of illiterate, gratuitous soap-using, microwave popcorn-loving freaks. I've never noticed until today that their entire male office staff consists of a special breed of Italian Pygmy Men. None of them stand over the height of 5 feet and they constantly wear shiny "disco" shirts with the first three buttons undone with creepy black chest pubes poking through. Of course, the entire look is completed with greased back "Darth Vader" helmet hair and the three pound gold crucifix necklace.
I must study this new race of mini-men. My article will begin:
"The New England-Italian Pygmy Men are perhaps one of the most under-appreciated races to exist on the North American continent. The timid beings often engage in a complex ritual dance dubbed "The Napoleonic Two-Step" when zeroed in by a predatory and vastly superior male specimen. Unfortunately, this boisterous display only further diminishes the Pygmy's chances of finding a mate, as most females feel that such reactions are indicative of other possible...shortcomings; the race is in danger of becoming extinct."
That's Pulitzer material, right there.
2 comments:
To guarantee that Pulitzer, I suggest an expose of just how the Mini-Men find a mate and procreate.
Who is shagging these guys? Someone must be, because every generation has its share of swarthy wee-ones.
Wombat
Pity sex? Circus-freak fetish? I just DON'T know.
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