A Wee Ferret

There was this wee ferret. He thought it was still the Muirhead of the 1960s – the glory years. But it wisnae. Those years wir long gone. Place was now a shitehole, but he was none the wiser.

He was taking a shite in a field down fae the ruins of the Tavern, peering at the glorious mines in Moodiesburn, when this dead pigeon showed up. Looked like it had been dead about three years. No much more than a wee bag a bones so it was.

The ferret gave it a cheeky wink. “Lovely day for it, eh?”

The pigeon said nothing. Instead, would ye believe it, the bastard rubbed that ferret’s face in his ain shite. The poor ferret vomited.

“Jesus! Whit did ye dae that fir?”

The pigeon then tore aff its own beak and battered that ferret tae death! Safe tae say, that ferret messed wae the wrong pigeon that morning. Should have been more careful around there.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s