The day of reckoning is upon us. One of many. Tuesday.
You see, the first week of our football picks is behind us. Mr. Slag, Myself and The Mayor have a tied for first at 9-5. Not too bad. Holding up the winners on their fat shoulders are Amber Alert and Karl. Two guys that I'd expect a lot more from (I'm just saying that to make them feel better). They finished 7-7 and 6-8 (not so respectively). In my mind, both tying for last place. Plus I have this picture of them together I've been waiting to use.
Why the mustacthes? Well, Mr. Slag and Mr. Double A decided that at the end of the season, the loser has to grow a mustache. I know this was Amber Alert's idea. I KNOW this. Why? Aside from knowing him for twenty years (it's cost my dad a fortune)...well, there's really no aside. That's why I know.
1st grade Rycrisp: Let's see who can jump their bike the highest!
1st grade Amber A.: Okay! But the loser has to grow a mustache.
He would then hardly make it off the jump. "I lose!"
It seems to be the stake in many of our contests. Or at the end of a long weekend where we haven't shaved. "I'm leaving the mustache."
Why is this? I have no idea. Both our Dad's have the stache'. But I have a feeling Amber will be picking Green Bay and Arizona to win each week.
Alert's Lady: Hi! Just thought I'd drop by...oh my god. Um. What happened to you?
Alert: Oh, this? (With a huge smile) I lost a bet. Nothing I could do. Shall we go get some sushi?
Lady: No. No we shan't.
4 comments:
Yup, I've got half the population checkin' this thing now! Just wait till they learn how to comment.
You know what scares me about that picture? How much you look like your dad with that mustache. And how much Karl looks nothing like ours.
Chris, were you coming back from yoga or something? What's with the pants?
Oh, it was noticed. But compared to the shirts you wear, that jacket is HUGE.
SNAP, Chris! Ask...and maybe you shall receive.
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