The Human Zoo - Mr Yewww Part 2 - A Series of Unfortunate Yewwws

After enjoying a traditional Northern breakfest of buckets & eggs, Koby is struck by a yew-bolt of inspiration. He rescues his favourite Unit  boardies from the dirty wash basket and proceeds shirtless to his beloved orange Xr6 Ute. According to Perth Revenue Raisers there is a speed camera around the corner and today is the day he obscures his plates and speeds past while yewww’ing out the window like a shard-smoking dog on Centrelink day.

Koby spots the speed camera while burning it down Marmion Avenue. He turns up the Aussie hip hop blaring from his speakers, slides on his white Arnettes and prepares to engage his target like a top-cunt Jet Pilot. Approaching the camera, he leverages half his torso out his window, positions his souther crossed arm and unleashes the battlecry of the deadshit, “YEEEOWWWWWW”. The camera serenades his despicable display of deroism with a series of flashes.

“Suck shit”, Koby thinks as he is safe in the knowledge that he has stuck the cardboard from a carton of Tooheys Extra Dry over his plates. However, his celebrations are short lived, as he careens off the road and writes off the mobile racial-intolerance billboard he calls his car. He quickly bails from the scene and runs home, all the while brandishing a ridiculous  facial expression that makes you think he may be two-shards short of a point. He bullshits the mornings events to his Gosnell’s girlfriend who is less than impressed that Koby has wrecked his car.

“How are you going to get to work now dickhead? This is bad timing, cos, I’v been wanting to tell you,  I’m fucking pregnant Koby!” All the paternal instincts that Koby’s father’s ashtray parenting instilled in him come flooding out of his lip-ringed mouth, “preggers, farrrk that, yous farking know I’v been pulling out, deffs not mine”. Koby breaks up with his missus on the spot and decides to enjoy a few yewww-pipes to celebrate dodging the parental bullet like Kecunto Reeves in the Matrix.

Koby assembles his shirtless crew and sucks down more meth than you’d find on the barbershop floor after a 2006 Eagles premiership team haircut session. They communicate in primate-ish grunts and Koby explains he is now single, childless and unemployed, “living the dream lads, YEWWWW”. The room erupts into a neanderthalic chorus of Yewws and shakka hand gestures, “you’re the fucking man bro!”

When you live your life one yewww at a time, you will never be struck down by the trials and trib-yew-lations that blossom from your own spectacularly ill-advised behaviour.