Don’t worry, boobies, we saved you! (Aussie bushfire Survivor & local firefighting heroes save east side silicone boobs)
Last night I spotted this not long after some bloody wanker built a Jenga Tower Christmas tree-like monument in front of a fence & lit it up on the corner of Stephanie & Russell. (Christmas is in December, you dickhead!)
With the wind going harder than Linda on the coach’s penis, & the flames growing faster than… again, the coach’s penis… the next minute the whole bloody sky looked like Satan himself had opened a portal directly behind Boulder Hwy.
Let’s be honest though, we all knew he’d appear there one day.
That aside… as a hardened Aussie bushfire survivor, the scene brought back deeply traumatic memories from home. For a brief moment I was mentally transported back to standing in the bush surrounded by smoke, fear & imminent danger.
Suddenly I wrapped my arms around myself & felt something.
Something stronger than the flames, panic & chaos…
Something more important than all of that…
I remembered the BOOBIES.
There were silicon mounds inside that building. Precious silicon mounds. Just like mine. Those could’ve been my sister boobies, made from the very same batch.
Clutching my own boobs & remembering the confidence they’ve given me all these years, I realised I could not let a single booby melt.
NOT. ON. MY. WATCH.
#FakeBoobiesUnite
(Imagine symbols flowing from every fake boob like we’re all Care Bears… but with tits.)
I pulled out my phone & called 911 to help save one of Vegas’s most treasured cultural institutions & the innocent boobies trapped within.
Given its close proximity to Boulder Hwy, it’s safe to assume this was one of the city’s classiest & most esteemed gentlemen’s establishments. A true pillar of the community. The Louvre of East Las Vegas, if you will. It really is that classy..
Satan’s portal aside…
At one point the flames shot so high I genuinely whispered to myself:
“Oh my God… the boobies are GONE.”
I stood there frozen. Helpless. Emotional. A broken woman watching what I believed was the end of an era… imagining a world of flat-chested ladies.
The very thought seemed to stop my breathing completely. I refuse to live in a world full of flat chested woman who long for their silicone mounds & cry while remembering the good ole days. The days when they could longer see their feet.
Was this truly the end??
But then…
Like majestic angels descending from the heavens themselves… the firefighters arrived!
“HOORAYYYY!” the boobies shouted in unison.
These brave bastards jumped out, grabbed the hoses & absolutely blasted the raging fire with the finest water Vegas has to offer — just before the town suffered an unimaginable cultural tragedy.
We did it.
The boobies were saved!
The terror of a flat-chested world faded from my mind. I could breathe again.
———————————————————————
NGL, my Aussie PTSD was triggered by it all & I found myself looking up at the sky waiting for drop bears to jump out of trees & eat my face off, just like they do back home… but then I remembered there’s no drop bears here.
No trees either.
And the 60 types of killer creatures are far, far away. I start to miss some of them..
Then I bravely squeezed my own fake boobies once again & suddenly relaxed.
The world is safe now.
…Well, as safe as Boulder Hwy can be anyway *shrugs*
DON’T WORRY, BOOBIES, WE SAVED YOU!!