Junax certainly had his David Dodds to contend with. Except in this case it was some cunt actually called David Dodds and he was the ruiner of all things good and destroyer of beauty and happiness. That's why he was a cunt. Speaking of which, Junax had recently been getting himself a nice bit of action from some hair stylist who had seemed the real deal. That was until she met David Dodds at a house party and elected to become his official cock-warmer.
Junax was sitting in his chair burning up about it. How do you go to a house party and decide to become a girlfriend? How on earth does that happen?! He made a mental note never to go to mid-Ulster house parties where nothing but bad, bad shit clearly happened. That burnt him. Then there was getting dumped for some fuckwit with a head shaped like a tomato and the facial features of a kiddy-snatcher. He was only a year younger than Junax for crying out loud, thought Junax.
'Fuck the iniquity of all this!' He howled.
Junax like to fuck on the beach as the moon waxed to it's fullest extent. David Dodds liked to shop for beige pyjamas that he could sew his name on along with Royal Irish Rifles insignia. How could Junax hope to compete with that? A D.I.Y lobotomy possibly, but no other way no how. That was the kind of shit that made hair stylists crazy. Apparently.
Dodds was a supporter of the Traditional Unionist Voice party. Unionism was all fine and well to Junax but he'd sort of given it up when he stopped buying Thundercats toys around 1988, though Unionist protests often meant the schools were closed, which was sweet. Actually Dodds had been barred from TUV meetings because he'd been caught using his Orange sash for masturbation purposes. As far as he was concerned it showed his utter devotion to the ethos. But he'd been already caught using rosaries as anal beads so his card was already marked. Actually as David himself often remarked, that was nothing, anally penetrating yourself using a Royal Irish Rifles 1915 officers revolver was far more pleasurable. He could feel the baked sweat of his favourite officer class still on the nozzle.
'Still this leaves me without pussy!!' Howled Junax again.
That was true, to an extent. Given how socially hopeless Junax was it did leave him in something of a bind. Plus, Dodds wasn't just in it for the pussy. He had a family breeding program to be seen to. Continuing the Dodds line from now until the Day of Judgement.
'Welcome to the "fun" side of life in Northern Ireland.' Said Junax, again only to himself.
Now, David would tell you that all animals had been put on the earth to serve man and women where here to breed for man. In fact most blokes in mid-Ulster would tell you that. So he had this wee hair stylist lined up to be the breeding vessel of his children.
He instructed his lawyer in a letter to secure full compensation from Dodds for services lost and time wasted. He signed it and then sat back and closed his eyes. All he could see was Dodds gloating like a hungry sex pervert with the stylist.
His eyes snapped open.
'Get outta my brain ya bastard!!'
He couldn't think now. He put on the radio and just then Zappa came to wash his mind clean.
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