The big game.

Hey. Have you bought one of those new iPhones yet? Yeah… me neither. So anyway… how are you? Me? Well, I'm excited to tell you what happened at today's BIG GAME. But first… a nutshell. Me! High School Football Team! Trudy! Bank Teller! Like Her! Impress her! Damien. Mean. Jealous. Threatens. Jesus. Scared.
Yep, that's about it in a nutshell.
So I have to admit I was pretty nervous about the game, because… well… what if I effed it up for everybody? (PMF!) I really don't know much about football to be perfectly honest, and other than the scrimmage game on Wednesday, I've never played the sport. But… I guess that's why Dad invented PEP RALLIES!
And boy, oh boy! Was that ever exciting and fun! It was held this afternoon at the local high school auditorium, and the cheerleaders cheered, the marching band played, and the coach and players gave motivational speeches. Even I was asked to say a few words, so I stepped up to the microphone and said…
"Ummmmmmmm… this thing on? OW! Is that feedback? Annoying. Anyway… ahem. FELLOW HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS. How are you? Fine I hope. Me? I'm excited and nervous and scared about tonight's big game. Because I don't want to let any of you down. And I also hope to impress a girl I like named Trudy."
"She's a bank teller," added the coach.
"Yes, she is. Anyway, I hope you guys will still like me, even if I mess up. Because I really like you."
"Don't forget to tell them you're a FRAUD!!" yelled a voice from the back.

DAMIEN.

"Who said that?!" barked the coach.
"It is I, Damien. I work at the bank, too."
"Oh, yes? Well, get out of here, Damien. Unaccompanied adults are not allowed on school grounds."
"Then I guess you'd better get rid of JESUS, then, because he's the adultiest of all!!"
A gasp echoed throughout the school auditorium.
"That's right," Damien sneered. "Jesus is way too old to play on a high school football team. It's against every regulation in the book, so kick him off the team NOW, or I'll alert the authorities!"
I thought for sure my dreams were dashed to dust… luckily I had a plan.
"Hey Damien," I said. "How old do you think I am, anyway?"
"Don't play dumb, Jesus! You know as well as I do that you're 2006 years old!!"
And the entire auditorium erupted in laughter.
"What? Stop laughing," Damien cried. "I'm telling you that hippie football player is 2006 years old!!"
"Oooh, everybody," I said, "Can someone help me find my walker? It's hard to move around when you're 2006 YEARS OLD."
Even more laughter.
"Hey kids," I yelled, "Cut your hair! Get a job! When's Matlock on? I'M 2006 YEARS OLD!!"
That was all anybody needed to hear. Damien was "escorted" out by my shirtless football teammates with a loud "WHOOOOOOOO!!!" And to tell you the truth? I'm not sure what they did with him. And… is it bad that I don't care?

The game was the funnest thing ever. The stands were full of cheering fans. Including Trudy who yelled louder than anybody. Even Karen (that's my lamb) got in on the action, 'cause the cheerleaders made her a little cheerleading outfit, with little-bitty pom-poms tied to her legs and everything.
And even better? I didn't mess up once. I caught most of the balls I was supposed to catch, I made a couple of touchdowns, and I didn't tackle anybody on my own team. And we won the game! Plus, I got to take a shower with the rest of the guys! I've never showered with that many naked people in my life. It was weirdly fun. (I didn't like getting snapped on the patoot with a towel, though.) (PMF.)

After the game, Trudy met me outside the gym.
"Hey, Mr. Football Hero," she said.
"Preeeeetty impressive, huh?" I asked.
"You better believe it. You were great, Jesus. Really great."
"Thanks," I said. "Can I walk you home?"
"Sure."
We walked quietly for awhile.
"Soooooooo… where's Damien?" I asked.
"I dunno. Out somewhere I guess. I dunno. To tell you the truth, I don't think it's going to work out with him."
"You don't?"
"I don't think so. He's kind of weird… and angry… and to tell you the truth, since you and I stopped hanging out, I don't seem to have any fun anymore."
"Me neither. But that was my fault, Trudy. I treated you like you were Crapzilla. PMF."
She smiled.
"Forget it. Wanna chase cars and bark like a dog?"
"OMIDAD, I love chasing cars and barking like a dog!"
And so we did. We chased cars and barked like a dog, until we laughed so hard we almost p-worded in our pants.
Then I walked her to her door.
"Wanna hang out tomorrow?" I asked.
"Abso-tootley," she said.
"I really am sorry, Trudy. For being so dumb."
And I stuck my finger in her mouth.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, read this post from a long time ago. It'll all make sense. OH CRAP! (PMF!) I just remembered! I left Karen with the cheerleaders! By now, they'll have her wearing lipstick and drinking wine coolers! Gotta run! There's nothing worse than a drunk lamb painted up to look like Mary Magdalene!
Have a fun weekend!