Then gifts were exchanged.(Thanks for my CDs man) Among the gifts were several rubber pellet pistols. Pellet pistols in a room full of slightly sloshed cartoonists? What were they thinking!? Well, all hell soon broke out. Yellow pellets were soon pinging right and left off of this cornea, that Corona.
When suddenly Uncle Eddie drew a slow and careful bead on no other than his very own off spring.
Such a dastardly act that he had to cover his own eyes in shame.
Right in front of his mother too!But what HO' Bert has come prepared with a gun of his own. With a steely gleam in his eye whispers, "This is what I learned from Matt Damon!" Peppering his father with round after merciless round.
Undaunted Eddie returns fire!
Mr.Worth retreats into his fortress of solitude.
But what's this? Eddie has run out of small yellow projectiles.
He tries in vain to block and dodge the incoming projectiles.
But soon collapses under the overwhelming barrage of pellets.
At this point Beery The Singing bear, called me into the corner, and sang me a song about cowgirls with artificial legs. Cowgirls with artificial legs that wore tight vests , and maybe nothing under the tight vests. Cowgirls with artificial legs, in little fringe skirts that barely cover their stuff. Cowgirls with artificial legs, in tight vests, that like to eat cold cream corn straight out of the can. That sweet song floated me far above the mel'ee, as if I were in a soft Demerol induced cloud. That's all I remember, until I woke up in the gutter under my car with my pants on backwards. So whatever you do,.....Don't trust Singing bears!
