Friday Morning

By Adam on Friday, July 9th, 2010

It was early Friday morning and the sun had just begun its rise to power over the lush green Kootenay valley. In recovery mode from a night of serious debauchery involving two Nuns, a chainsaw, three microwaveable burritos, an arm wrestling competition between a bear and a kitten, paul schultz, a butcher, a herd of goats, garlic salt, and an italian muslim albino jew, I rose from my sleeping quarters.

After unsuccessfully completing the morning “triple S” i made my way outside my house to find a leopard eating my garbage. Knowing how Leopards think i quickly asked his opinion on the BP oil spill. An inquisition which resulted in the Leopard removing his attention from the waste bin and joining me on my deck while i ate breakfast.

My breakfast consisted of raw panda covered in sea salt and malt vinegar provided to me by my friend Shintzao Usukaro Taonukarota, and of course the staple side dish… pickled puppies in a jar, courtesy of my mortal enemy Reid Tannahill. As my gullet tank began to reach full i realized that my Leopard friend who went by the name Zebrotomos was still rambling on about BP’s incompetence in handling this global catastrophe. I tuned in for a couple of minutes absorbing the words that passionately exuded from Zebrotomos’s mouth, and then it came to my attention that he clearly had no idea what he was talking about. Before i was able to reach over the table and Neck punch him unconscious we were both blown sideways by Andrew Arthurs Van which had been parked temporarily in my driveway as a result of him purchasing a new reliable black Toyota Tacoma.

The Van a 1990 Safari with a custom rust job had some how exploded sending a fireball hundreds of feet in the air, and producing a shock wave that sent Zebrotomos and I flying through the sky. As we flew through the air headed east Zebrotomos asked me if he could sleep on the couch as he had recently been layed off, and was having a hard time getting back on his feet. I took a second to think about it, then punched him right square in the LIPS using a technique known as lip punching. As my fist made contact with his slightly wrinkled moist black lip skin so did our body’s with the ground. Jolted by the impact I took a second to re-gather my thoughts only to realize that we had landed directly on the twelfth green of the Fernie golf and country club.

As we repaired our divots I begun pondering an explanation as to why Andrew’s suped up Safari had exploded, and then like snorting a line of Kool-aid powder it hit me! The sour taste of foul play began dripping into my throat as i became aware that Mr Arthur was clearly trying to kill me. I came to this conclusion because the day previous to this I had been called up to play as a ringer in the big softball match between the Cheeseburgers and the Misfits. This game was the biggest mostest importantest of the year and both teams were hungry as hippos. All game I was slamming home runs over the mountains and both teams were getting upset at me for loosing softballs so i took a backseat to Batting and headed out to the outfield. The first three balls hit to me i dropped on purpose as i had been payed off by Barrack Obama to throw the game, but then my conscience got to me and I realized that win or loose I would always carry the guilt of being a cheat, and we all know that there is no shower head in the universe that has been designed to wash away guilt(except Tiger Woods shower head but that has nothing to do with this story. And he paid like at least a couple trillion dollars for it).

The next up to bat was Mr. Andrew Arthur the third, and sure enough he popped one way up into the atmosphere headed straight for me. Without moving i raised my cold pure filtered sweet tasting Pilsner to my mouth and chugged what remained in the can. As the last drop touched my tongue I did a backflip and caught the ball square in my back muscles. You could see the excitement on the faces of the cheeseburgers as we headed back to the dugout, but out of the corner of my eye i saw Andrew standing at the Fence like a kettle that’s been left on the element until all the water has evaporated. This rage continued to build throughout the night and in the morning must have driven him to COMMIT a car bombing in hopes of permanently destroying me. Luckily he was unsuccessful allowing me to provide everyone with this lovely story…have a great weekend!!!
I am headed lake side!!!!

BangBoomBammajamma

Adam

Comments

By Paul Schulz on July 9th, 2010 at 5:11 pm

Between you using my name once in the facebook page and once in this story, I believe that you owe me 7200 dollars in royalties. Or bass lessons. Payment should be in crisp 2 dollar bills. Payment should also be relatively hasty, or else a neck guard will have to be worn on the regular to ensure one of my furious neck punches does not kill you. Even though that will be my intention. To see you in a neck guard.

Well said….

your a maniac……a brain like that, your bound to cut your ear off one day!

By Bailey J Clarke on July 10th, 2010 at 12:29 pm

hahaha, not only did you use vivid words to describe your life, you managed to make a peice of literature art that will be treasured forever

By Paul chunky mcgrath on July 11th, 2010 at 4:34 am

Idiot

yous was on that kool-aid too!?!?!?!damn great minds are greater in grape

By Joel Whalen on July 27th, 2010 at 9:13 am

This story is incredible. Completely publishable. sport illustrated? national geographic?
this is the most entertaining thing i’ve read. ever.

 

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"Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish—a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow—to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested . . . Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll."

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