|
Written by David Harakos
|
|
Tuesday, 28 March 2006 |
The scene is set......the night is cold, campfire burning, stars sparkling in the dark night sky.
Three hang-glider pilots, one from Australia, one from South Africa and the other from New Zealand, are sitting around a campfire near Ayers Rock, each embroiled with the bravado for which they are famous. A night of tall tales begins....
Kiven ,the Kiwi says, "I must be the meanest, toughest hang glider dude there es. Why, just the other day, I landed in a field, scared a crocodile who got loose from the swamp which ate sux men before I wrestled et to the ground...weth my bare hends".
Jerry from South Africa typically can't stand to be bettered. "Well you guys, I lended orfter a 200 mile flight on a tiny trail ind a fifteen foot Namibian desert snike slid out from under a rock and made a move for me. I grebbed thet borsted with my bare hinds and beet it's head orf ind sucked the poison down in one gulp. Ind I'm still here todaiy".
Barry the Aussie remained silent, slowly poking the fire with his manhood. |
|
Last Updated ( Tuesday, 28 March 2006 )
|
