Agony

By Sue Simpson

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Dear Aunt Nasty,

My dog is a three-year-old Doberman called 'Rasta.' He has always been a good boy. Well, that is until three weeks ago when I got a new man in my life. I tried to stop Rasta sleeping on my bed. Every night for the last fortnight he has snuck upstairs and dumped in Rodney's side of the bed. Please help me. Rodney is beginning to think that Rasta doesn't like him.

Yours truly, Uncomfortable in a crappy bed.

My dear Uncomfortable,

You waste stamp, envelope, paper, ink and 0.999 of a calorie in expended energy writing me this? You know the answer. Eat well. Eat rich. Eat hearty…and then go and crap in his bed.

On the other hand of course, maybe the dog is a better judge of character than you are!

Love,
Aunt Nasty
xxx

~*~

Dear Aunt Nasty,

My boyfriend expects a good meal on the table every night. But when I provide decent cuts of meat, he throws the food across the room and plays hell about the amount of money I'm spending. I just can't win.

Yours truly, Hungry in Hampton.

Dear Hungry,

I have just the recipe for your darling man.

You need to find a pet shop specializing in frozen food for the discerning reptile.

Purchase ten frozen rat pups. Ask for big plump ones that are about a week old. The little sweethearts have no inkling at this age of the fact that within a week some bloody great human is going to come along and chuck them in a freezer, so they see no reason to grow fur. Also pick up a few pieces of mouse poo if you can.

When you get home, lay the baby rats out in a neat little line somewhere warm and in direct sunlight if possible. After one hour, get pissed off with waiting and decide to nuke them in the microwave to aid the defrosting. While in the process of pressing the defrost button, have a little mind warp and press the 'full power' button instead. Whap it up to two minutes.

After about twenty seconds you will hear the first sickening wet 'plop' of an exploding rat pup. This will be followed fairly rapidly by nine more sickeningly wet plops as their bodies swell like over-inflated balloons with boiling fluid. When all ten bodies have burst from cranium to gusset, there is little point in continuing to zap them with radiation. Just think how proud your economy-conscious man will be when you tell him about the ninety seconds of electricity you spared him having to pay for.

For the next part, you might consider the distinct advantage of wearing surgical gloves. Carefully peel the mangled and steaming bodies from the four sides and several corners of the microwave. Lay them on a bed of succulent wild rice (you know, the kind with the little black kernels), pepper with tiny pieces of mouse poo, but don't overdo it or he'll notice.

Serve hot with a warm and loving smile.

Total cost of meal: under five dollars. I'm told by a spaced out junkie friend of mine that this dish tastes "just like chicken," but then apparently so does everything from alligator meat, through sheep's balls to slimy squid, so that doesn't surprise me.

The name of this dish is Ratatenny Surprise, and can be found on page thirty-three of my cookbook (available in all good bookshops). The book is titled "Auntie Nasty Cooks For Lovers," and is priced at the very reasonable sum of $4.99.

Bon appetite Mon Cherie.
Love,
Aunt Nasty
xxx

PS: You may like to consider at this point buying that state of the art, high-tech, makes-everything-but-toast microwave you were looking at the other day. Be sure to charge it to your beloved though.

PPS: I believe Habitation have a lovely range of 'Bangers and Mash' wallpaper, it would save Mr. Grumpy doing it himself.

~*~

Dear Aunt Nasty,

I'm Goth, he's Garage.
What should I do?

Yours truly,
Black in Blackwell

Dear Black;

Sell the car!

Love,
Aunt Nasty.
xxx

~*~

Dear Aunt Nasty,

My life is not worth living. I am so unhappy. Nobody loves me and I can't face another day of living like this. If you don't do something I'm going to kill myself.

Please help.

Yours truly, Miserable in the pits of hell.

Dear Miserable.

Shut up, you sniveling period that ends a perfect sentence.

What makes you think the next world will want you any more than this one does?

However, if you insist, I do believe that hanging is the fashionable way to go these days. But please, if you do, don't wear that horrendous floral dress. Spare a thought for whoever finds you, and do something about your hair; it's a mess.

Love,
Aunty Nasty.
xxx

PS: Do you know you have a string of hideously infected green mucus hanging from your right nostril?

~*~

Dear Aunt Nasty,

My wife keeps putting me down. Every time we go out in company she makes wisecracks all night at my expense. Last week she told the football team that our budgie has a bigger dick than I do.

Please help.

Yours,
Limp in Limbo.

Dear Limp,

Wait until your lovely wife is asleep. Then, you know that huge puss-filled boil at the top of her inner thigh? (You may have to hunt a little through the layers of fat to find it.) Rub it with some local anesthetic cream to numb it. This is the tricky bit; if she wakes up at this point (bear in mind that she is probably dreaming about some man who's hung like a donkey at the time), she is going to remember very quickly just why she bought that magnifying glass last week.

Wait ten minutes for the anesthetic cream to take effect. This would be an excellent time to peruse at leisure my informative self-help leaflet on penile length enhancement (Auntie's surgical guide to rampant happiness. $4.99 + P&P).

There. Your good lady shouldn't feel a thing. Insert into the moist part of the boil a fine catheter reed. (It might be an idea not to inhale. After three hours lying in bed with her legs closed, that baby is going to be pretty ripe.) Attach to the reed a hair-fine laparoscopy tube. (If you can't find one of these then any old piece of tubing will do.) Take the other end of the tubing and insert into your darling's mouth.

A couple of hours of sucking her own poison should temper her temperance.

Love,
Aunt Nasty.
xxx

PS: Shoot the budgie.

~*~

Well, boys and girls, that's it for this month. Auntie's got to go now, it's pension day and the ideal time to startle old ladies outside the bingo hall.

Next month we have letters from:

A lady who thinks she might kill her child if it doesn't stop whining.

(I say go for it love. You'll be out in eight years with good behaviour. Beats eighteen years hard labour rearing the little git.)

Also, we have a letter from the man who's in love with a pig.

(Darling, you have to lie with a lot of pigs before you find the slimy cockroach you will settle down with. Take it from Auntie who has kissed a lot of pigs.)

Keep those letters flooding in folks. They do make me giggle so.

And remember Auntie's motto:
DO UNTO OTHERS…ONLY DO IT TO THEM FIRST.

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