One stormy night in Boston, the city that years later would be come the epicenter of the sports universe, the Duke who ran the local baseball team decided that it was time to cut ties with ‘Roid Boy, the team’s biggest star.
See ‘Roid Boy had taken on the body of “Flounder” from “Animal House”. And in the words of “Dean Wormer”, or maybe they were the Duke’s words, “fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life son”. But ‘Roid Boy felt if he could add a lot of money to that maybe he would come around again and be the pitcher he once was. And if he didn’t he still would have a lot of money.
So they kissed goodbye, or maybe they just glared at each other and, just like the “Journey” song, they each went their separate ways. ‘Roid Boy in his search for riches wandered across the border. No kids he didn’t end up at Taco Bell, although that is possible, he found himself in of all places, the land they call Canada.
Drunk on maple syrup and full of Canadian bacon and Molson ‘Roid Boy scoured the landscape looking for a paycheck. It was Toronto, home of the hockey hall of fame, where he would find some Canuckistani to pony up nearly $25 million, American of course, over three years. So he took his family from their double wide in the rural backwoods of Houston and moved them into the Super 8 by the airport in the new land of Canada. Most specifically Ontario.
It was here that ‘Roid Boy would the meet a man who was willing to jam him in the ass. And ‘Roid Boy liked it. He liked it so much he wanted it more often. He even told the man he didn’t have to be gentle any longer to just give it to him good.
For two years the man stabbed ‘Roid Boy in the ass. ‘Roid boy grew stronger and more resilient and won games and awards and then in a fit of ‘Roid Rage demanded that the team who gave him money when no one else would trade him to the Evil Empire. ‘Roid Boy had gone mad.
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