Jonny The Sleep Depraved Eskimo

Jonny was an eskimo.

Really.

He wore big coats, had squinty eyes, and hunted fish with nothing but his bare hands ....wrapped around a Magnum Obliterator Electrified Harpoon Gun (2.0 No Mercy Edition).

~{}{}{}~

Jonny liver'd at the South Pole, a dubious polar strip club where he worked day and night scrubbing tuna stained thongs just to scrape a living in the baron wasteland.

---

DO NOT BEND

Bea'ing an eskimo posed many a'problem for Jonny, least of all finding a stripper with strong enough knees to give him a lap dance.

{Most of the time it just ended up being a face dance, which Jonny didn't mind one bit.

That's probably not the best example to cite as a 'problem' for him. Not being tall enough to get on to the cool roller coaster rides, or being followed by a creepy so-called "narrator" who has a penchant for small $%eskimo%$ type people would probably serve as better ports of call for that kind of thing.

“But, I was [wanking] when I worte it, so what do you expect? I guess I'll just have to slide it in next time I write about troubled eskimos. Which is undoubtedly going to be soon.”

~

---

DO NOT BEND

The biggest problem Jonny faced was the environment. Specifically, his carbon footprint.

It just wasn't BIG enough.

A

All the hot girls in his tribe knew what a big carbon feet meant, and they weren't about to be duped into letting some guy with a tiny landfill column anywhere near inside of them.

---

DO NOT BEND

Jonny was screwed in this sense, his impact on the environment was negligable.

@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~**(()_++++++++

Try as he might, he just couldn't compete with the oil barons living on all sides around him. He couldn't afford to buy a car, his rubbish neatly recycled itself into appropriate colour coded categories, and he had an inadvertent habit of signing ground-breaking climate change deals whenever he let his guard down.

---

do not bend

Last week he'd nodded off in front of Countdown to find upon waking up that he'd persuaded China to cut their coal consumption by 68%. Suffice to say, the poor eskimo hadn't been near a woman in years. Had they not kept popping up semi-naked in the strip club Jonny could swear they didn't exist anymore.

whores will lick up your blood after you die, you whore. Alas, a paradox!

But right now the biggest problem for Jonny, other than the crushing lonliness and the volatile overfull testicles that could explode at any minute, vaporising him, was getting to sleep.

He hadn't quite figured out if it was a good idea yet.

All in all it probably was.

//It would refresh his mind, restore his body, and help him get through the nightly rape he was subjected to at the hands of moustached polar bears.

But then again... if he did he'd b -actually, not then again. Those three reasons were more than enough to convince his alread-y convinced mind.

"Jonny woke up twelve hours later, chirpy and missing a lot of colon."

THE END

---

---

---

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

---

---

---

---

The MORAL of the story, kids, mmmmmm, kids, is that sleep cures sleep depravity.

But only if you have enough of it,

....and only if you leave your door unlocked.