Death by, I mean, Story by Sentence Part II

The aborgine scratched his behind and stared with a mixture of contempt and horror at the crazed painter before he responded, "Look 'ere. ye great blathering bloke, I suppose the next thing, ye expect is that I go on a walk about over the coca cola bottle that's falling from the beak of that passing raven even as we speak. Gotta a Foster's?"