Stretching the Truth 

A Nissan Navarra Limo. Nissan. Navarro. Limo.  I thought I dreamt it. But it’s real alright. A car even the gods thought impossible. Cottesloe Beach. 

About The Lazy Aussie

Commended Haiku writer. A lover of The West's Worst. Perth stand-up comedian, photographer and writer.
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10 Responses to Stretching the Truth 

  1. Zuben says:

    Perth : le tout boganisme

    Like

  2. Shazza says:

    Must be a bitch to park and reverse in and out of car bays,

    Like

  3. Bento says:

    Carpenter with 7 employees?

    Like

  4. Hovean says:

    Probably called to replace the the wagon on the right with the broken axle.

    Like

  5. you'll get wet says:

    It was Xmas in Port Irony. Again.

    A pall of melancholia hung over Red Dog as he hooked a paw into the footrail of the animal bar at the Whim Creek pub and ordered a Sarsparilla. He would’ve preferred Dr Pepper but he liked to listen to the way the skimpy Asian barmaid with big mailbags pronounced Sarsparilla. Red Dog drank deeply, lolled his tongue, dribbled onto a beer coaster and spat a gob across the room into the spittoon, as he reflected on his life pioneering in the red Pilbara. He padded over to the jukebox, chose Chantilly Lace and was tardised back to 1972.

    Another year gone. Red Dog was a survivor. Rintintin had been shot by injuns, the Littlest Hobo knifed by Boxcar Willie and Lassie killed on the spot when a plane fell on her in Lockerbie. All that pioneering had left it’s mark. Lots of marks, starting from when ol’ man Hancock had put him in a gunnysack and kicked his head in. The first thing he saw when Hancock let him out was a string of blacks, chained together. ‘Git ’em dawg,’ said ol’ man Hancock, ‘Learn ’em what happens when they don’t fill their quota of 200 fence posts an hour.’ Just then, WW2 broke out and ol’ man Hancock went off to profiteer from Asbestos.

    Red Dog padded over to the door, past the spittoon which wasn’t a spittoon at all but a campaign poster of Brendan Grylls which had fallen from the wall, and collapsed in the red Pibara dust. He looked down. The red Pilbara dirt was blue. He rolled over and looked up. The blue Pilbara sky was red. Red Dog was pissed, crushed like an empty beer can.

    Far away from Port Irony, but not so far that you couldn’t hitch a ride there with a caravan, camel that is, a lone star shone over Mount Satirist. It could have been a coincidence. Or not.

    Like

  6. Joel T says:

    I am in no way joking when I say this is the car of my dreams.

    Like

  7. cheapfame says:

    I hope this is an Uber BLACK – Would easily rate 5 stars. Resale value would be excellent also ‘Rare hybrid limousine tractor stationwagon / MASSIVE PUSSY MAGNET – Low KM’s – Primarily used to ferry goods from Farmer Jacks Maddington and occasionally Charcoal Chicken.’

    Like

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