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    A Pineapple of Pleasure
    A Pineapple of Pleasure
    A Pineapple of Pleasure
    Ebook27 pages18 minutes

    A Pineapple of Pleasure

    By Frankie Lassut

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    About this ebook

    This is the story of a gay couple. One night someone asks one of them, in a threatening way “Oi bitch! Are you gay?”
    He replies “No, but my boyfriend is”.
    They’re quite ordinary. One night there’s a clairvoyant on at the Town Hall (to Clearly See ...that’s what clairvoyant means). Well, there you go; not only do you get entertained, but you learn something too. The clairvoyant tells one of them where the fortune is hidden. They try and get it, but the threads are too tight. But, just when you thought all was lost; help turns up in the most unexpected way. You’ll enjoy this one. In fact, when you’ve read it, you will crawl to my door on hands and knees (that’s how you crawl) and beg me to write a sequel. Remember, bring a rucksack with some cans of cider in it ... otherwise, you’ve got no chance!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherFrankie Lassut
    Release dateJul 31, 2018
    ISBN9780463561133
    A Pineapple of Pleasure
    Author

    Frankie Lassut

    I am the one being shaved; the other one Nim, is is a looney bin now!I went to see a psychic years ago who ended up as my girlfriend; she didn’t see that one coming! But she was extremely honoured. However it ended badly i.e. it rained heavily as I buried her body and I got soaked. No! You don’t really want to hear about it, it’s depressing; I was joking about the burial. She told me that I was to uncover a talent I had ... Well, another psychic told me that as the first one was dead; I was lying when I said I was lying. Nothing happened for quite a while. Suddenly I realised I needed a ‘job’ quite badly as I was beginning to drink halves. No, not a boob ‘job’! I went for the cheap option i.e. the surgeon gave some socks to shove up my jumper when I go out. I got a ‘job’ (have you got boobs on your mind?) because someone told me that bus-driving was easy because you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel. She was about six, a wise woman ... that’s called an oxymoron. Fantastic! I thought get the job and in a couple of days I’d be driving all the nice passengers around and about seeing all the sights for a fraction of the cost of a tour bus; and we’d have a roof in case it rained. Easy! First of all though there was the training; and I entered hell.I was born in Cumbria in a little ex-iron ore mining town called Millom. It was only small, a one- horse town; the horse was called Peg. It had a pedigree name too, but I can’t remember it at the moment: Peggy Suss? However, I got fed up and left as I was the only man in a town full of women and they were all lesbys; I’ve always been lucky. I went to Blackpool and attended the photographic college. I then moved to Coventry and met the psychic who would tell me what was going to happen. I could say now that the rest is history. Well it is, but obviously not history as that’s all made up anyway. Then I got the job bus-driving, which as I said is easy ‘you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel’. The bus station management weren’t pleased that she had said that though, so she was tried and sent to Guantanamo Bay; they have a section for young kids who are bad to the bone.The job was so mad that I thought it would be a good idea to write out some posters and stick them all on the wall of the bus station. The other drivers enjoyed them, but the management tore them down, the badstars (that’s an anagram of astards +B). I carried on and ended up with a manuscript for a book, which, by the way is ‘brilliant’. The management didn’t like it, but bollocks to them.I couldn’t stop writing after that episode and I’ve been writing ever since, mostly cheques to people, such as the mortgage people and the gas board etc. I am so brilliant that I’ve lost all my friends because I wrote about them in my style which I believe is called Bizzaro. My inner being is a bit of a crazy horse, because whatever I write it has to be in that style, even the horror. It just goes that way. ‘Ordinary’ writing to me is like lemonade minus the bubbles ... I can’t bring myself to do it; but thank God I can still bring myself off. I need a selfie stick as I do that because the close focus on the phone won’t do it; how else am I going to post them on the Dark Web?Writing is like a drug. When I was writing my Millom book, the pictures that flashed into my head were so funny to me that I laughed myself into hernia-ville; my stomach tore. I got injured writing.You see, hernia-ville, a retirement home for people with stomach hernias; no comedians are booked to appear at that place.So, my writing is brilliant, so read the bloody stuff!I have actually suffered for my art. I won’t go to hospital to get it fixed because, well, I’ve written about that friggin place too.All that and now I’m an international bestselling author. I’m the only author in this world who has sold books on Mars (eat your heart out Tony Robbins), so I can say with certainty that Martians have fabulous senses of humour.What a profile!

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      Book preview

      A Pineapple of Pleasure - Frankie Lassut

      A Pineapple of Pleasure

      Copyright © Dave Lassut 2018

      2nd Edition

      Published by Wonky Books at Smashwords

      This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Mac and Terry Maxwell were a gay couple in a Civil partnership. Mac was the house ‘wife’, while Terry went to work in a gay ‘private’ shop (very handy). They were, like many people, almost skint due to the favourite British hobby of ‘economy’ recessions (especially double dip ones), plus Terry’s un-tremendous wage; and therefore, much of their stuff was on the never, never, ever in this lifetime. But, that didn’t matter so much, as they had a great sex life.

      They agreed, a great sex life could dampen the effect of any money problems either they and the country had, as a good stiff penis up your beautiful eager brown tube was almost knowing God directly; as fas as Mac was concerned anyway. Terry wasn’t far behind ... extremely close actually, which is obviously why God placed

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