Bedtime Story!

First, I have to talk about the Red Sox again. If you don't like it, you can kiss my Puerto-Rican ass--the one that I have in the fridge. They beat the Yankees which means that this whole thing is going to be even better than I thought. Now, instead of losing to the Yankees, they're going to lose in dramatic fashion in the World Series instead. I can't wait until the Cardinals beat them in game seven by coming back from down three games to zero. I'd love to see the Red Sox win, but I'd love to see them lose in the most heartbreaking way possible more.

Nothing's going on at school right now so I've got no good stories to tell. Instead, I'm going to make up a bedtime story right now and I won't delete anything that I write (unless it's a typo or something--I can't deal with those).

The Bastard Frog

by Shel Silverstein (or me, whatever)

Long ago in a swamp filled with all sorts of swampy creatures, there lived a frog named Herman. Herman wasn't like all the other frogs. His legs were on backward so when he jumped, instead of going forward, he went in reverse.

Well, all the other frogs and even the toads made fun of Herman because of this problem. Herman's parents, however, still loved Herman like he was normal. He wasn't though. His fucking legs were on backward. That's some fucked up shit right there. That's like this guy that I heard about when I was in high school that went to another high school nearby and his legs were on backward, too. He was supposedly on the swim team and he was really good, but I'll bet that's just what people told him so he'd stop feeling so bad about not being able to sit in chairs right.

One day, Herman decided that he had had enough of all the other frogs making fun of him so he was going to do something about it. He never stood up for himself so he didn't know exactly what to do. He talked to his only friends, Eric and Dylan. Eric and Dylan were different, too. Nobody in the school liked them either because they wore funny jackets and always walked around like they were depressed. Eric and Dylan already had a plan to stand up to the mean frogs in the school, so when Herman asked for their help, they were more than happy to help.

The three of them devised a plan that would make everybody stop being mean to them and respect them as the frogs they are.

The next day at school, the plan was in motion. Herman hopped up the school steps backward because of his gimp-ass legs and spotted the biggest bully in the school, Freddy. Freddy always called Herman "Hop-a-wrong Cassidy." Herman didn't know that Freddy was from China and never intended to make fun of him. This didn't matter to Herman because he was about to get back at everybody for how mean they all were. When he would give the signal, Eric and Dylan would hop out from behind the lillypad that drops all the kids off at school and riddle them with water balloons. "This would be the best thing ever," Herman thought. "Everybody knows that frogs HATE water!" When Herman gave the signal--which was yelling, "I fucked an eskimo prostitute"--Eric and Dylan were to come out and hit everybody with water balloons.

"I fucked an eskimo prostitute! I fucked an eskimo prostitute!" The sound rang throughout the swamp. Dylan and Eric jumped out and began the plan. What they didn't tell Herman, though, was that when they said "water balloons" they meant "bullets from AK-47s and other guns that I can't name because I don't know anything about guns except that it would hurt to get shot by them."

When all was said and done, Herman had been shot nine times and lie dead in front of the school. Eleven other students had been shot and killed before Dylan and Eric turned the "water balloons" on themselves. From that day forward, though, nobody ever talked about that guy with the fucked up legs that went to that school. Now whenever they talked about that school, everybody talked about how two frogs, both the sons of an eskimo prostitute, were tired of being made fun of and finally decided to do something about it.

Herman's parents cried for two weeks until they realized that they should, instead, be happy that their freak-of-nature son was dead and they didn't have to act like his weird, backward legs didn't bother them anymore. They went on to have four other children and never told them about their dead older brother. Everybody was happy for the rest of their lives.

The moral of the story is if you have a physical disability and people make fun of you for it, you better not do anything about that will get you killed because your parents hate you anyway.

The End.

Interesting thought of the day:
A surefire way to get sick in this flu season is to fellate a homeless man after eating three bowls of Cookie Crisp (or a box of razor blades, it has the same effect on your mouth).