*hic* Now, there all kinds of stories out there. Good stories…bad stories. Stories about baggin’ an impossible woman or stories about the fish who got away. But *hic* only drunks tell stories about fish ‘n’ women. And I ain’t drunk yet. ‘Cause I can drive right now and it’s not a problem, but I’m not taking you scouts to Denny’s. No. No shut up and stop asking me. We are going to tough it out here *hic* in the woods…’cause that’s what Squirrel Boy would do
What? You mean you never heard the legend of Squirrel Boy? Oh man, what do they teach you kids in school? Squirrel Boy is our very own suburban, wild-child legend like Tarzan and Mogley, but this one’s real! I swear it! *hic* It’s those others that are fake! You see, Mogley was brown and he hung out with tigers and orangutans, and the only place on earth that has brown people, tigers and orangutans is like Indonesia. I think. But there are no bears and wolves there! That’s bullshit. And baby Tarzan would have been eaten by gorillas. Soulless bastards. When I was a Black-Ops stationed in Nicaragua I…yes I so was stationed in Nicaragua as a Black-Ops, Jason. Shut up and don’t interrupt *hic* the scout leader…we ran into a coke smugglin’ racket and whole buncha those fuckers. Beat every last one of ‘em to death with my boot. But that’s a story for another *hic* time.
You boys wanna hear the story of Squirrel Boy? Well hand me a marshmallow and another beer and I’ll tell you a real life legend. *hic* Ah Jeeze, um, a “real legend” is like Clint Eastwood, Jason and if you interrupt me again I’m sticking you on latrine duty for the rest of the week. Now cork it.
They say it was prom night. ’92. Back then, a Hillbilly was elected to the highest office in the land, Goof-Troop was teaching a brand new generation how to hate Disney, and all the kids were rockin’ out to Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit and I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston. *hic* It was a pleasant evening filled with lust and gaiety…except for the hate filled unpleasantness that was birthed in the girl’s locker room bathroom. Some say it was Becky Peterson’s, since she had been dating, or “going steady”, with Kyle Ratner since freshmen year. Others say it was Abby Summers’, since everyone knows she gave 3 hand jobs on the band trip. And some think it was one of the Latina chicks’ that no one gave a shit about but it makes sense since she was Latina. All we know is that from these humble beginnings emerged the greatest hero/monster *hic* this county has ever seen: Squirrel Boy.
There in the dumpster, next to piles of glitter-ific prom decorations and yesterday’s Spaghetti-Fish Surprise, young Squirrel Boy was unceremoniously deposited to be forgotten among the refuse. But God works in mysterious and inefficient ways. That is the same dumpster where the Glenpark Squirrel Clan was foraging for food. “What *hic luck!” they chattered in squirrel. “This meat is still warm and fresh!” Some say it was the 100 toxic squirrel bites he received; others say he was simply born a freak. But on that day a creature, not quite a boy, not quite a squirrel, found his place in the world. He was adopted right there on the spot by the Glenpark Squirrel Clan, raised as one of their own, learned the ways of the squirrel, how to survive a short, brutal existence. How to forage, how to fight off the Maplewood Street Squirrel Clan, these were the skills he learned. *hic* Not like you kids. He knows nothing of this “George Washington”, and fractions mean little to nothing to him.
And so he was raised. He grew tall and strong like a proud gray squirrel, and…Jason I’m not going to tell you again to shut up or I swear to God I’m going to leave you here and tell your parents you were eaten by a bear and when it attacked, you shit your pants. Shut. The. Hell. Up. Now hand me another beer. Squirrel Boy was the boy without fear; with a wild, unkempt mane of brown hair and a Doritos bag for underwear, he took on dogs, lawnmowers and even ran across 4 lane streets. He was an expert a stealing from garbage cans, and a genius at getting seed from bird feeders that have those *hic* squirrel stopper tube thingys on them. He was king of the squirrels. He took a mate at age 12. He fathered no offspring.
But his greatest exploit came around 2005, the events of which would rock the landscape of the sleepy little suburb of Audubon forever. We all remember the Great L’Shawna Sex Scandal that finally sank the career of Mayor James “Buddy” Hackle, right? Right? You kids, remember don’t you? You know, mayor…caught with a black prostitute in a motel with a kilo *hic* of blow…it was like 3 years ago. Oh yeah, yeah. You, don’t, vote. My bad. ANYWAY. Squirrel Boy is directly responsible for the sleaze-lord’s demise.
Story goes like this; Buddy is in the Motel 8 up on Fairview for somewhere between 3 and 4 hours, doin’ blow and L’Shawna. So he’s doin’ a line, plowin’ L’Shawna, another line, *hic* L’Shawna, on and on for a while. Obviously, this builds up an appetite. So he gets into this routine where after he’s done having limp-dicked prostitute sex, -hey don’t tell your parents you heard this story from me- he gets dressed, wipes his nose, puts on some sunglasses even though its like 8 at night, and walks over to the Red Lobster, you know, mingle with the common folk, get a shrimp platter to go, real respectable like. But little did he know that Squirrel Boy is in the back *hic* dumpster getting at all the half eaten lobster tails. Buddy leaves through the back so as not to draw attention to himself. For one thing, *hic* he was still high as a fucking kite. And two, he reeked of sex. And three, he didn’t want to answer questions as to why his shrimp platter was free.
So out the back Buddy leaves, heading back to the Motel 8. Up on Fairview…*hic*. *cough* And Squirrel Boy follows, drawn to the irresistible scent of shrimp and sex. Verrrry stealth fully, verrry squirrel-like, he manages to keep his *hic* distance without being noticed. The mayor reaches the room and goes inside. He pops a few shrimp and goes right back to L’Shawna. All the while Squirrel Boy is watching them go at it. It becomes too much for his walnut-sized brain. With the strength of *hic*…100 squirrels, he busts open the window and jumps in. Buddy freaks and runs out the room butt-ass naked. Totally dips out on that scene. *hic* Squirrel Boy eats a bunch of shrimp real quickly, you know, nibbling really fast, and then sets his eyes on L’Shawna. He rapes her. He rapes her and he *hic* doesn’t know it. ‘Cause he’s a fucking squirrel, damnit. He finishes up in like a minute and then runs off into the night. So one thing leads to another and the cops are called. *hic* and it all turns to shit. The mayor is found out, boom. Indicted. And L’Shawna gets time for being a hooker. She said it wasn’t a Squirrel Boy, but her hairy little Puerto Rican boyfriend who ate all the shrimp and raped her. But we know what really *hic* fuckin’ happened. Right? RIGHT KIDS?! Yeah thas right.
You’ll tell ‘em. You’ll tell the world *hic* our story. Th-this is our herit-age. They can’t…fuckin’…tear down these woods to make fuckin’ Jiffy Lube, ‘cause, this, this is Squirrel Boy’s home. This is his HOME! And *hic* we we’re just borrowing it. Bless you, SB. You-You’re my boy! You’re my BOY! *hic*
*barfs*
*passes out*
What? You mean you never heard the legend of Squirrel Boy? Oh man, what do they teach you kids in school? Squirrel Boy is our very own suburban, wild-child legend like Tarzan and Mogley, but this one’s real! I swear it! *hic* It’s those others that are fake! You see, Mogley was brown and he hung out with tigers and orangutans, and the only place on earth that has brown people, tigers and orangutans is like Indonesia. I think. But there are no bears and wolves there! That’s bullshit. And baby Tarzan would have been eaten by gorillas. Soulless bastards. When I was a Black-Ops stationed in Nicaragua I…yes I so was stationed in Nicaragua as a Black-Ops, Jason. Shut up and don’t interrupt *hic* the scout leader…we ran into a coke smugglin’ racket and whole buncha those fuckers. Beat every last one of ‘em to death with my boot. But that’s a story for another *hic* time.
You boys wanna hear the story of Squirrel Boy? Well hand me a marshmallow and another beer and I’ll tell you a real life legend. *hic* Ah Jeeze, um, a “real legend” is like Clint Eastwood, Jason and if you interrupt me again I’m sticking you on latrine duty for the rest of the week. Now cork it.
They say it was prom night. ’92. Back then, a Hillbilly was elected to the highest office in the land, Goof-Troop was teaching a brand new generation how to hate Disney, and all the kids were rockin’ out to Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit and I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston. *hic* It was a pleasant evening filled with lust and gaiety…except for the hate filled unpleasantness that was birthed in the girl’s locker room bathroom. Some say it was Becky Peterson’s, since she had been dating, or “going steady”, with Kyle Ratner since freshmen year. Others say it was Abby Summers’, since everyone knows she gave 3 hand jobs on the band trip. And some think it was one of the Latina chicks’ that no one gave a shit about but it makes sense since she was Latina. All we know is that from these humble beginnings emerged the greatest hero/monster *hic* this county has ever seen: Squirrel Boy.
There in the dumpster, next to piles of glitter-ific prom decorations and yesterday’s Spaghetti-Fish Surprise, young Squirrel Boy was unceremoniously deposited to be forgotten among the refuse. But God works in mysterious and inefficient ways. That is the same dumpster where the Glenpark Squirrel Clan was foraging for food. “What *hic luck!” they chattered in squirrel. “This meat is still warm and fresh!” Some say it was the 100 toxic squirrel bites he received; others say he was simply born a freak. But on that day a creature, not quite a boy, not quite a squirrel, found his place in the world. He was adopted right there on the spot by the Glenpark Squirrel Clan, raised as one of their own, learned the ways of the squirrel, how to survive a short, brutal existence. How to forage, how to fight off the Maplewood Street Squirrel Clan, these were the skills he learned. *hic* Not like you kids. He knows nothing of this “George Washington”, and fractions mean little to nothing to him.
And so he was raised. He grew tall and strong like a proud gray squirrel, and…Jason I’m not going to tell you again to shut up or I swear to God I’m going to leave you here and tell your parents you were eaten by a bear and when it attacked, you shit your pants. Shut. The. Hell. Up. Now hand me another beer. Squirrel Boy was the boy without fear; with a wild, unkempt mane of brown hair and a Doritos bag for underwear, he took on dogs, lawnmowers and even ran across 4 lane streets. He was an expert a stealing from garbage cans, and a genius at getting seed from bird feeders that have those *hic* squirrel stopper tube thingys on them. He was king of the squirrels. He took a mate at age 12. He fathered no offspring.
But his greatest exploit came around 2005, the events of which would rock the landscape of the sleepy little suburb of Audubon forever. We all remember the Great L’Shawna Sex Scandal that finally sank the career of Mayor James “Buddy” Hackle, right? Right? You kids, remember don’t you? You know, mayor…caught with a black prostitute in a motel with a kilo *hic* of blow…it was like 3 years ago. Oh yeah, yeah. You, don’t, vote. My bad. ANYWAY. Squirrel Boy is directly responsible for the sleaze-lord’s demise.
Story goes like this; Buddy is in the Motel 8 up on Fairview for somewhere between 3 and 4 hours, doin’ blow and L’Shawna. So he’s doin’ a line, plowin’ L’Shawna, another line, *hic* L’Shawna, on and on for a while. Obviously, this builds up an appetite. So he gets into this routine where after he’s done having limp-dicked prostitute sex, -hey don’t tell your parents you heard this story from me- he gets dressed, wipes his nose, puts on some sunglasses even though its like 8 at night, and walks over to the Red Lobster, you know, mingle with the common folk, get a shrimp platter to go, real respectable like. But little did he know that Squirrel Boy is in the back *hic* dumpster getting at all the half eaten lobster tails. Buddy leaves through the back so as not to draw attention to himself. For one thing, *hic* he was still high as a fucking kite. And two, he reeked of sex. And three, he didn’t want to answer questions as to why his shrimp platter was free.
So out the back Buddy leaves, heading back to the Motel 8. Up on Fairview…*hic*. *cough* And Squirrel Boy follows, drawn to the irresistible scent of shrimp and sex. Verrrry stealth fully, verrry squirrel-like, he manages to keep his *hic* distance without being noticed. The mayor reaches the room and goes inside. He pops a few shrimp and goes right back to L’Shawna. All the while Squirrel Boy is watching them go at it. It becomes too much for his walnut-sized brain. With the strength of *hic*…100 squirrels, he busts open the window and jumps in. Buddy freaks and runs out the room butt-ass naked. Totally dips out on that scene. *hic* Squirrel Boy eats a bunch of shrimp real quickly, you know, nibbling really fast, and then sets his eyes on L’Shawna. He rapes her. He rapes her and he *hic* doesn’t know it. ‘Cause he’s a fucking squirrel, damnit. He finishes up in like a minute and then runs off into the night. So one thing leads to another and the cops are called. *hic* and it all turns to shit. The mayor is found out, boom. Indicted. And L’Shawna gets time for being a hooker. She said it wasn’t a Squirrel Boy, but her hairy little Puerto Rican boyfriend who ate all the shrimp and raped her. But we know what really *hic* fuckin’ happened. Right? RIGHT KIDS?! Yeah thas right.
You’ll tell ‘em. You’ll tell the world *hic* our story. Th-this is our herit-age. They can’t…fuckin’…tear down these woods to make fuckin’ Jiffy Lube, ‘cause, this, this is Squirrel Boy’s home. This is his HOME! And *hic* we we’re just borrowing it. Bless you, SB. You-You’re my boy! You’re my BOY! *hic*
*barfs*
*passes out*
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