What Kind of Titlke?
Headbutt.
Let's get this out of the way: old friends give the best ideas.
So I was talking to an old friend of mine the other day (who's flipping married. Can you believe that? She's my age, and married. I'm so behind the curve on this, and you know what, I blame you), and she reminded me of something very important that I had done way back in my more youthful days.
Have I ever told you about the time I saved a manatee?
It was a really late May evening, when the sun sets at a late enough time that you can grill out on your deck, sip a well-made martini, and bask in the revelation that you invented the night. I was doing all of the above when I heard the sound of tires screeching down the road. After I put on my robe and wizard hat (to those without a weird sense of humor, you might not appreciate that link, but then again, odds are you haven't read this far before clicking on the link, so it's all a moot point anyway), I sped down the road, hoping that I wouldn't have to use my CPR skills. They were a bit rusty.
When I got to the place of the screeching tires, I realized that a small turtle had maliciously attacked a car head on, throwing it around a nearby tree. Fearing for the people in the car, I grabbed the turtle by the shell and flung it into a stream that was conveniently located asunder. The turtle floated on down the stream, never to be seen again.
Or so I thought.
It kept coming back. Day after day, night after night, the turtle kept coming back, attacking cars left and right, craving the taste of twisted steel. It's thirst would not be denied, so matter how many times I watched it float down that stream. Eventually cars would not be enough. Soon it craved other things, like poorly made skyscrapers, the city of Pittsburgh, and marbles.
Not knowing what to do and reaching my breaking point, I screamed the only thing I could at this demented turtle, "if you don't stop eating steel and my marbles, I am going to kill my pet manatee!" Not wanting to harm one of it's seafaring brethren, the turtle scampered off, and floated down the stream for the last time. It has only been seen on rare occasions off the island of Guadalaalehandro, where is quenches it's thirst for steel by eating rusty schooners.
So there you have it, the story of how I saved a manatee.
K bye.
(Editor's note: the writer of this story has, at no point in time, every had a manatee as a pet of any kind. Any similarities to any persons, events, or turtles in this story is completely bogus, and if you believe otherwise, you are insane.)
Let's get this out of the way: old friends give the best ideas.
So I was talking to an old friend of mine the other day (who's flipping married. Can you believe that? She's my age, and married. I'm so behind the curve on this, and you know what, I blame you), and she reminded me of something very important that I had done way back in my more youthful days.
Have I ever told you about the time I saved a manatee?
It was a really late May evening, when the sun sets at a late enough time that you can grill out on your deck, sip a well-made martini, and bask in the revelation that you invented the night. I was doing all of the above when I heard the sound of tires screeching down the road. After I put on my robe and wizard hat (to those without a weird sense of humor, you might not appreciate that link, but then again, odds are you haven't read this far before clicking on the link, so it's all a moot point anyway), I sped down the road, hoping that I wouldn't have to use my CPR skills. They were a bit rusty.
When I got to the place of the screeching tires, I realized that a small turtle had maliciously attacked a car head on, throwing it around a nearby tree. Fearing for the people in the car, I grabbed the turtle by the shell and flung it into a stream that was conveniently located asunder. The turtle floated on down the stream, never to be seen again.
Or so I thought.
It kept coming back. Day after day, night after night, the turtle kept coming back, attacking cars left and right, craving the taste of twisted steel. It's thirst would not be denied, so matter how many times I watched it float down that stream. Eventually cars would not be enough. Soon it craved other things, like poorly made skyscrapers, the city of Pittsburgh, and marbles.
Not knowing what to do and reaching my breaking point, I screamed the only thing I could at this demented turtle, "if you don't stop eating steel and my marbles, I am going to kill my pet manatee!" Not wanting to harm one of it's seafaring brethren, the turtle scampered off, and floated down the stream for the last time. It has only been seen on rare occasions off the island of Guadalaalehandro, where is quenches it's thirst for steel by eating rusty schooners.
So there you have it, the story of how I saved a manatee.
K bye.
(Editor's note: the writer of this story has, at no point in time, every had a manatee as a pet of any kind. Any similarities to any persons, events, or turtles in this story is completely bogus, and if you believe otherwise, you are insane.)
posted by Rich @ 2:14 PM
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