Showing posts with label flatulence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flatulence. Show all posts

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Adding the Mean to Meaning


Modern Moral Number One:
The first little pig was quite enamoured with green architecture, so having consulted the very latest edition of the Architect’s Yearbook, opted for a house built out of straw bales. This ensured a natural insulation against cold and heat, while limiting the carbon footprint and ultimately the rate of attrition of the polar ice caps. Fortunately, wolves were limited these days to one or two individuals cross-bred with huskies, and so preferred kibble to live porcine flesh, so there was no huffing or puffing. The other two pigs decided to teach English as a foreign language, and unfortunately ended up in small bowls, served with noodles and sweet and sour sauce.

Modern Moral Number Two:
Goldilocks was pretty damned good with alarm systems- using software on her mobile phone, she was able to bypass the sensors and gain entry to the three bears’ house. She spent some time in the open plan kitchen admiring their cell phones, which were all recharging. She rejected the Nokia immediately, the classic shape would have made her just another blonde with a mobile. The more serious debate came to her as she weighed up the benefits of Blackberrys vs iPhones. She was fond of the Blackberry for its heft, the gently curved keyboard, but finally chose the endless Apps of the iPhone. She would have gotten away with it, too, had she not left her Twitter page open on the Blackberry as she left, unwittingly allowing the three bears to gain revenge by hacking into her Facebook account and posting pornographic status updates until she was entirely friendless.

Modern Moral Number Three:
Rapunzel was bored. She had to live in the penthouse of her luxury Tuscan Townhouse development, and wasn’t allowed out because of the crime levels which were supposedly just beyond the electrified razorwire of her confines. She spent most of the days ordering soggy fast food delivered by one-degree-away-from-the-breadline middle-aged retrenched middle managers now working for Mr Delivery, and aimlessly posting pointless lies about enjoying Walks in the Forest and Fine Dining on dating websites. She tried some speed dating online, but the guys weren’t interested in hearing about her sad childhood, and only wanted her to do unspeakable things to them with battery-powered curiosities. Listless and bored, she thought to herself, Screw it, long hair is sooo last year, and became a celibate lesbian, passing the rest of her life contentedly watching entire TV series collected on DVD, and comparing the way different brands of fast food altered the quality of her flatulence.

No real people were harmed here. No people were edified, either.