Geriatrics and Mongs
I've not really had any 'interesting' al fresco experiences of my own as of yet, but one of my most peculiar memories is of being a young lad of about 12 years of age.

It was a hot summer morning in 1995, and I was watching the Saturday morning cartoons, probably Animaniacs, Taz-Mania, or something of such ilk.

In my young entertained state, I was startled out of my Saturday-morning euphoria by a rather peculiar series of moans and screams emanating from outside (we only had single-glazed windows at the time), and the yells of what sounded like a feeble old man.

"What the hell's going on outside?" asked my mother, who was too busy feeding my sister to get out of her chair and look.

I don't know if I regret looking, but it's something that will never leave me; across the grass verge in front of my house was a main road, and on this road was a bus stop. At this bus stop, there was a very old man flailing and screaming, waving his walking stick, and yelling to every man alive that it was "bloody disgusting!" and "You dirty Bastards!"

It was then that I noticed the source of his ire: two mentally disabled people, one man, one woman were banging away at each other, in their own special little way, against the bus stop. That's right, the screams were emanating from two howling mongs fucking, incessantly yelping away in pleasure as some geriatric felt the need to berate them while they were at it.

"What's happening?" my mother asked again, seeing my startled, slack jawed face.

"Uhh... nothing?" I replied, as I slowly climbed on to the sofa, curling in a foetal position.

I could distantly hear my mother saying
"Oh, they're at it again..." as I tried to wash the images out of my brain, slowly trying to reclaim my innocence through the colourful, flashing images on the TV screen.

I didn't find out the length, but it had learning disabilities.
(Lythium deals in lead, my friend., Thu 23 Apr 2009, 14:57, Reply)