TENNIS RACKET TOMFOOLERY

You know, it's Christmas time that always seems to get me. Yes, when it's the first of December, and the jolly folks put up their lights and decorations, it just takes all of my bad feelings and shoots them point-blank in the face. Another things that the Christmas season does is reminds me of old stories of past Christmases. You reading this now get the privelidge of one of these stories. Some are too inappropriate for the internet, so I picked a rather mild story for you guys, because that's just how much I care.

It all started on the blustery winter's day of December 19th, 1975. George was going down the I-5 during a snow storm. Since he had only about 20 more miles to get to his house, and the storm wasn't even close to there yet. He was a the edge of the storm, so he figured he'd be able to get through it. I mean, after all, he's driven through a whole lot worse over in Canada, where he came from. Northern Canada.

Just as he was about to hit the 15 mile mark, a sharp peice of ice ripped through his two left tires, slashing them, causing him to be forced to pull over. He had already gotten off of the I-5, and into a short-cut through the woods.

"Oh fucking great, just what I fucking need" he says to himself in apparent anger. "I'll have to fucking wait untill the motherfucking storm passes, and I don't have any fucking food with me. Fucking fuck on a fucking fuck stick."

He curses insanely to himself, and to a bunch of people passing by in big-rigs for at least an hour. The storm only gets worse, and it begins to get dark. The snow level was at least up to two feet if you stuck a yard-stick into the snow. The cold didn't worry George much since his heater worked great, and he just got the car battery replaced that day. What worried him was the fact that he was missing dinner.

"I had best find my motherfucking dinner on a fucking plate in the fuck-rag fridge when I get home, or I'll kill my wife with a fucking axe." he exclaimed to himself as the snow continued to fall.

After cursing himself to sleep in the car, he awoke to see the windows completely blackened by the snow. He cracked open the windows, and dug through the snow. He quickly found where north was, which is where his house was, directly north. He made snow-shoes out of tennis rackets and duct tape he had in the back seat of his car. He walked for at least 10 miles, and found himself face-to-face with a pack of wolves.

"You motherfucking sons of bitches had best not fucking touch me, or you get a racket up your ass" said George to the non-english speaking Wolves. Since the wolves had no idea what he said, they lunged at him. After 5 minutes of fighting and tennis-racked tomfoolery, every wolf ended up like George had threatened: with tennis rackets up their asses. Obviously, not every one of them had a racket for their ass, but some bled to death so that George could re-use the rackets.

He got home, found that dinner wasn't in the fridge, and killed his wife with an axe.

The End.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!