Long story short...
I went to a friend's kid's birthday party there years ago. You know how those suck so just to get through the 2 hours of our lives we would never get back all us dads played air hockey.
Of course I was kicking @$$ and not giving a d@mn about names. I beat everyone there to an embarrassing level.
Feeling cocky which I never do I started talking sh!t. Something else I never do.
Well you know how that's gonna end. In an entrance that would rival a WWE champion the rat appeared from the back and made his way to the table and threw down the gauntlet.
I decided then and there I was gonna mop the floor, his floor, in his house with his shaggy @$$. The puck hit the table and we both threw down our hands firmly grasping the paddle. That's when I noticed and the horror struck me. That d@mn rat's hands are about the size of Wallys big floppy. His one hand cover just shy of that whole side of the table.
He beat me like a rented mule. I couldn't get that puck past his big furry mitt. I was cheated, I was robbed and everyone saw it.
All the Chuckie Cheeses in this area quickly closed down and the rat left town. Some day somewhere our paths will cross and it'll be a fight like when a boy named Sue found his daddy.
How does this work?
