Floating crap game
So, these boys hang out on the corner, trying to alleviate their boredom with... something. They start talking about turds, and how some float and others don't.
It struck one of the boys, the least dull of the bunch, that perhaps there was a way to take advantage of of this fact. A lottery based on whether a poopie floats, a floating crap game, was born.
In three months, they were taking in $70,000 a week in bets. We won't get into the mechanics of determining whether the crap in question sinks or not. Let us, instead, consider how this all reflects on the condition of the human race.
Or rather, let us not. Life is depressing enough without football players wearing tutus or flatulent demigods loitering outside liquor stores on Thursday evenings.
Reasonable people wouldn't have gotten this far. Think, how does this reflect on you?
It started when I want into the back yard barefoot, despite the snow, and stepped on something sharp. A few somethings sharp. Turns out they were fangs, and they were attached to hams.
Then we had to stop putting out kibble for stray cats. The fanged hams kept eating it, then sharpening their fangs on the corner posts, eventually brought the structure down.
Next we had dawn visitations by sasquatches sporting a gibbon on each shoulder. They seemed to be curious about the pool, eventually urinating in it. Somehow, the whole pack of them squeezed into a 1968 MGB/GT, and took off towards the mills. There's trouble at the mills, you know? One of the flayrods... ach, never mind.