Blood Nut

The first day of this new bread amongst our already stable crew was rather unsettling, he was surrounded by us as the leader ( DK, aka kent lips ) was dishing out the daily chores, i was looking around at everyones faces observing the Blood Nut, he made quite a fitting resemblence to this figure below. (jokes aside)

Wendys face was puzzled but she looked more interested in him cause of his hair more than anything ill never forget it burning bright, lighting up the room the flame on his head has been said to be referred to the same of the olympic torch...shivers ran up my spine, who is this matchstick boy ?.
Butt Pirate took a rather gay perspective of interest into him , but that was expected.
I looked at him
benn :"oi what school do you go to ?"
carrot top: " warnbro high "

i could barely understand him, he had confused me with two words, was he smarter than me ? no , the burning flame on his head reassured me, ofcourse i was smarter than him, he was just retarded he met all the descriptions of a fit wranger. it made me sick. i consulted beau of the matchstick man , he didnt mind at first and the day went on.

he was ok. for a little bit

day 2 came, "fuck hes here again " i thought to myself. but today i had back up to help me get through the day , sindo had arrived, we made small talk then continued about ronald mcdonald, we thought today we'd torture him. little foot informed me that his mum was the lady at the front of kmart that greeted you and checked your bags on the way out, hilarious. we had some material.
his crazy mum combined with his blood nut attributes made him having a bad day certain.
we would walk past and make comments like
"fuck its cold in here ?" and then warm our hands up on his head when he wasnt looking. we contined with this for awhile as it was the primary joke, he became the kid that everyone hated at school. id pretend to cook toast on his head and always tell him to watch out cause his head might light some boxes and stuff on fire. sometimes i almost wet myself, like when your wee is peeping out.
we'd pretend to be his mum and say stuff like " HI HOW ARE YOU TODAY" *crazily* , i think he had a bad day but we could all easily conclude he was a germ amongst society, he was a tagger, a wranger and he couldnt talk properly. To this day no ones sure where the matchstick man goes, but rumours has it , you can see his tagging on the windows of the train on a cold dark winters night...