Super Stealth

There are three things on this planet that are the absolute definition of stealth; a military sniper dealing with an itchy arse whilst laying prone in tall grass, an Aberdeen seagull sneaking into a branch of McColl’s and tiptoeing out with a packet of Pickled Onion Monster Munch and me whilst commando crawling out of the bedroom last night under the sight line of a toddler who was mere seconds away from falling asleep.

However, while Super Stealthy Scott was bending the laws of physics by creating an almost supernatural bubble of ‘Null-Sound’ around himself, the master class of stealth was interrupted by the braying laughter of The Roobs, who was laying cuddled up against The Destroyer trying to soothe him to sleep.

Of course as soon as mummy starts laughing, the boy starts laughing. And next thing you know there’s two snottery faced idiots cackling to themselves whilst I’m now stood out in the stairwell giving them both the finger through the wall.

I don’t feel that I’m appreciated at all here. I’m not bitter, but I didn’t even get a chance to show off how I can descend the stairs like a sure footed mountain goat, not creaking a single damned step while I glide down like a baldy headed spectre..


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