Hello there!  My name is Gene and I hate sand castles!
THE LIFE STORY OF GENE TENNEY, STRIKE OUT KING

INSERT STUPID THEME MUSIC HERE...

      It all started when I was a young boy trying to find my way round the sandbox at school.  The other children would all sit around building cool shit and all I could really do was poop.  While they were getting dirty and creating sandy masterpieces I stayed away.  I knew that my abilities to do anything constructive was limited so when anyone asked me, "Hey Gene, come build a sandcastle!"  I used to always respond with,"Na son, daddy gotta shit!"  I quickly gained a reputation as a bit of a poopy pants with a huge turd like attitude.

     I remember this one time that my little buddy Piss Pants Parker was working on this really huge beast of a castle.  As I looked at him constructing this amazing sand castle, I started to think of ways I could get in on all the fun.  I thought to myself, "Hey you stupid turd, just because you're not smart enought to mold a building from sand doesn't mean that you're not gifted in other areas, after all you are the king of potty pants round these here parts."  Everything truly did start to come together in ways in which I never thought possible.


      I made it my mission to incorporate my shit sharding talents into everyones sandcastle fun, but how?  What does poo poo have to do with sand?  Nothing to my knowlege, I mean poo and sand just don't go together.  What to do I thought as I blasted a fat pouch of goooooooo into my diaper?  Suddenly it hit me... SHIT CASTLES!  Either that or I'd try to make the poop hat that I'd invented with my limited intelligence.  No I'll stick with the shit castles.

          Now I know what you're thinking, shit castles? That doesn't make any sense, but wait my playground friends... it will. You see I like to call myself a bit of a master. The type of little dude that will never strike out in life let alone a softball game. So one afternoon while everyone was thinking about what kind of fortress to construct I was brewing up a nutty sort of building material that I was sure that nobody had used. It was hard to keep it in though due to the incredible amount of anticipation that was giving me butterflies like I'd never experienced before. 


          Suddenly our teacher said to us, "OK everyone, who wants to go outside for recess?" I threw my hands up it the air and started to say that I wanted to but unfortunately for me the action of my arms shooting above my head had an undesirable effect. Without warning I began to shoot turds shaped like avocado missiles into my brand new Osh Cosh pants. The smell was immediate and can only be described as offensive. Somewhat like I would expect cat food that had been left in a hot car for a few weeks would smell like. Why me I thought as everyone began screaming and vomiting all around me. It wasn't long before fingers started to point my way and so they should I mean I did just crap my pants. Even Piss Pants Parker started to laugh and point the blame my way. I couldn't take much more so I jumped up and began to make a run for the classroom door all the while leaving a colorful trail of poop every few feet as I ran. I guess the only good thing that came from that was at least I'd be able to find my way back to the class.

23 YEARS LATER

          Two strikes, is what the fat ass ump kept saying to me as I approached the plate during my softball teams second game of our weekly double header. Games on the line, I'm up what could go wrong. Suddenly I my mind began to wonder as I caught a brief smell of the toilets directly behind home plate. The smell was unquestionably the aftermath of some ass actually using the softball restrooms to take a crap. The odor immediately brought back the disturbing visualizations of Osh Cosh pants that I managed to fill with shit in the middle of my kindergarden class. I'd spent years trying to forget that and now it's taking over my thoughts completely. Focus, I kept telling myself. Right as my words of self encouragement began to make sense I heard... Strike three, you’re out midget!

      All I could hear was laughter as I put my head down and headed back to the dugout. My old friend Parker skipped over to me and let me know that everything was alright. He told me that this is just a game and that I'll have many more opportunities to prove myself and make up for this huge mistake that had just cost my TPX brother a win. Parker then told me of a wonderful party that he said that he was headed to and asked if I'd like to accompany him after the game. I didn't hesitate to say yes as I knew the type of parties that Parker goes to. I've always wanted to go to that kind of party so I did!   Here's a picture... That's me on the left there and Parker is a couple of girls over on the right. Thanks Parker that was a great night!

THE END