Pamphylo Pamphlet strikes again

Then while I try to walk normally on the street sporting my La Polla Records t-shirt and my fascist boots, all of a sudden I see an apparatus-human, it's Pamphylo Pamphlet

he stops me en seco:


-"Hey you punk fuck, I'm protesting just because because because, without a reason, you you you, why you don't... why don't you protest with me just because, without a reason, eh? Eh? Why don't you protest with me, just because, for the sake of it, eh, eh?"


I open my eyes wide open like two Ferrero Rocher's in Auchan and look at him, then close my eyes, then open 'em again
with a voice that doesn't cohere respect the movement of my lips I answer:


-"Qué, cual?"


Pamphylo Pamphlet didn't seem to understand my enunciation and stayed 1 minute and fraction boquiabierto looking at my mouth with the oral fixation of a satyr retarded


with guttural noises emitted through his gorge he said something incomprehensible agitating his fucking pancarte in the air, which was all painted in aerosol with anti-capitalist and anti-establishment messages
in a stupor of rage Pamphylo Pamphlet reacted, screaming out loud with fluty voice:


-"Damn, damn, DAMN, you are with us, or you are against us! I don't wanna God, I don't wanna king, I don't wanna prisidint, I don't wanna minister, I don't wanna bosses, I don't wanna..."


I pushed his chest violently with my palms extended like 2 fans, topetazo aka thump that impacted his thoracic box with a hollow resonant and conchy noise, making Pamphylo Pamphlet fall inert on the sidewalk with the inanimate and torpid rigidity of a trunk of poplar

Pamphlet stayed fallen on la rue without vital signs, his body seemed to have lost any flexibility since it was completely stiff like a sanforized shirt.
Finally an ambulance came and took Pamphylo Pamphlet toward a hospital to cure him, while the unarmed police of Xixón transported me toward la comisaría running slowly on patrol car wheels.