Look....updated for no apparent reason.

Charlie calling upon the powers of a less-then-known Demi-God who is in charge of ridiculous matching hawaiian shirts. His prayer goes on unheard and unanswered as you can plainly see.


Simon, upon learning that Charlie's crys of embarrassment were less then persuasive to the said Demi-God of retarded apparel, began to call upon faded 80's wrestler *Sgt. Slaughter....who's last known whereabouts were the San Diego Comic Con, 2007. His pleas were cast by the way as well. (*Mr. Slaughter was hocking some sort of GI Joe character...I finally truly understood the ending of "Old Yeller" and how it was best for all parties involved.)


My entry into the short story contest...non-fiction category. Melissa and i were in our front room watching some tv (probably Scrubs) when we heard a sound of a constant flow of water hitting the wood floors. We had some pipe issues in our ceiling in the past, so when my wife jumped up to grab a towel she rounded the corner and began to laugh instead of fetching something to soak up the liquid. I got up to see what the commotion was all about and beheld my oldest son, standing on the fouth stair up, pants down around his ankles, with a steady stream of pee flowing from his neither regions. His eyes were half shut as he was scratching his neck waiting for his valve to shut off. We clapped...we screamed...we tapped his chest and head...nothing could stop that river...so we stood back and let him finish. What you see is the aftermath..pay special attention to the wall...notice the darker gradient of color that the wall magically takes on near the base of the stair case.........soaked.....yeah...our special little guy.