theres no internet in hell, just aol.

so its hard to keep up on the goings ons around the web, but this morning i was catching up with sara’s site and she said that her gentleman friend dan’s birthday was the other day. from the darkests depths may i wish my man dan a happy 44th. bottoms up, hippies!

sara shared with the world some of her juvenilia and i dug through my permanent record and found this old chestnut from my freshman year of college. its not as good as saras when she was twelve, but it was one of my most well-received stories, as i believe i got a b minus on it.

The Greatest Basketball Player Who Ever Lived

There was a boy who lived on a hill far away from everyone but there were trees near his home and the sun shined there nearly everyday. He had a dog and a cat and a cow and chickens and some pigs that he’d wake up some mornings and see turned into bacon for him to eat. He liked bacon. The trees grew oranges and the cow made milk and from some of the trees he made a basketball hoop so he could enjoy himself, but as the boy turned into a man he realised that he wanted other pleasure than that he got from his animal friends and his trees and sun and basketball so he went down the hill and met girls.

He liked girls because they smelled better than his animal friends and his basketball and some of the girls were even prettier than the sun in the morning and when those girls passed him by he’d try not to stare but as soon as they passed he’d look and watch, like he did the sun, as they’d sink below the horizon.

But the boy who was now a man had not been trained correctly, he soon discovered. To befriend these girls he had to act differently than he did with his animal friends, trees and basketball. You see with them, all he had to do was be kind to them, feed them, and tell them that he was glad that he knew them, and they’d grow and smile and rub up against him. He tried this with some of these girls and the results frustrated him. Some of the girls immediately were repulsed by him and would have nothing to do with him. Other girls were attracted to his sincerity and honesty but soon left him for “more challenging” men – like those in the armed forces. Our boy who was now a man was confused.

A friend of his told him that most girls liked to be told what to do – to be man handled – to be controled, ignored, and then suppressed. This sort of game-playing bored the man and he lost all interest in these nice smelling animals who called themselves women but acted like cats and were called girls.

So he went back up the hill with a new possession – a television.

This helped his situation a little bit – but not for long because on the television, quite frequently were pictures of very beautiful girls who’d grown up to be women. They had no smell but they certainly seemed pleasant enough and as out hero looked at his chickens and cows and trees he took his basketball outside and tried not to think of women but he was not successful.

That night he wondered if he’d ever find a girl who’d turned into a woman – and not a cat – who’d like for him to take her places and hug her and kiss her and not treat her like a pig who’d one day be his bacon – even though he liked bacon. The television told him yes but everything below the hill yelled no and he believed it. This is the story of the greated basketball player who ever lived.

The End

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