It only seems like 3 and a half weeks ago that Old Knudsen was up in the San Gabriel mountains tracking game.
There was a time that those mountains were so full of beaver, pussy and snatch tails that you could never get rid of the smell. Old Knudsen would walk into Wrightwood and people would be boaking at the stench of pussy on him. Now Old Knudsen can't seem to get any beaver, nope he be at the self-service gas station of love, pumping his own leaded. I'm no sure what that means but it doesn't sound too good.
Another reason Old Knudsen was up in the hills was due to reports of lemur activity but whatever Old Knudsen says about lemurs is still classified oh I can say they are creepy bug eyed cunts that isn't classified.
The cold and lonely nights were the worse I'd lie in my log cabin tossing my wood onto the fire while re-reading my Sarah Palin swimsuit edition of Conservative cunt monthly, aye if only the lass would meet 'me' then she'd be in favour of abortion.
One cold wet stormy night I was lying by the fire polishing my rifle when there was a knock at me door.
Old Knudsen doesn't have a visa never mind a weapons permit as Old Knudsen is a free spirit. I quickly shoved my rifle under cover but the stock still stuck out a bit, ah well.
I answered the door and there stood a small stocky balding middle aged man, the rain dripped doon his glasses and mustache as he stood there out of breath. He started to talk excitedly about mudslides and his BMW , I could see he wasn't the forest rangers or the pigs so I let him in.
My training made me pretend not to notice him yet see everything. He stood there with his expensive looking ski jacket dripping rain unto my floor I saw his eyes look doon at my thick wooden stock he quickly looked elsewhere in the direction of a stack of ghey porn standing in a three foot high pillar beside my bed, " It belonged to the guy that lived here before" I blurted out.
He looked me square in the eyes and said, "Don't worry I'm ex coast guard besides I didn't ask" Old Knudsen totally didn't know what he was getting at so I said, "Well I was just telling".
"Take yer coat off and sit doon" says I in my usual friendly manner, " just kick that crusty sock out of the way" the man looked at the offending article formerly used as clothing near the chair, "Uh its starting to move by itself."
"My word its evolving" Old Knudsen did exclaim with a victorious finger in the air, "A cup of tae?"
It turned out that Ted owned the million dollar home across the way and since the wildfires of earlier in the year cleared all the brush the rain now created a mudslide that was threatening to take his hoose.
"My gog" I said "first Haiti and now this, when will it ever stop?" .......... a rhetorical question there like when I say, "how are you?" or "are you well?"
Old Knudsen does not have a phone or any other tracking device, he eats biscuits but not cookies. He once had an Ipod but could see fuck all out of it and wasn't sure exactly where on the eyes it was supposed to go.
Ted tilted his head to the right a bit and revealed a slim mobile phone permanently in-cased into his roll of neck fat.
Think Old Knudsen think, I ran through the options on who to call, Billy joe and his brothers with shovels, old man Samsonite and his team of horses, the fire dept might cum if I set fire to his hoose ................. Old Knudsen is a dangerous intellect.
Ted looked disgusted, he knew what to do he called K-cal news to get a reporter up to his hoose, this story would make a full night of news for them.
We sat there and waited and waited, his conversation was out of Old Knudsen's tax bracket (taxes are for the weak which is why George Washington wanted to tax moonshine, the fucking traitorous cunt) I finally sighed and say, " do ya want to read some of my porn then?" Ted perked up and said, "I'd thought you'd never ask."
Here is a picture that proves the theory of evolution is merely an idea or a theory if you will. If this penguin could evolve and grow wings to fly don't you think it would?
