I'm Not Crazy

~42~ An Insane offer we can't refuse.

"You can't be a real country unless you have a beer and an airline. It helps if you have some kind of a football team, or some nuclear weapons? But at the very least you need beer."
~ Frank Zappa

😈😈😈

When we finally get back home to the Madhouse the super speedy Stevie is long gone. Probably back up into his boy bordello to cyber-stalk poor confused cousin Paulo across the social internet. Unfortunately for me and B, we find the next stupid fate that waits us sitting in the shade on the shit-talking porch. Where clearly Connie and Tommy have been laying in wait for us to return to the Madhouse. Just from the number of beer bottles already consumed and left strewn about both ends of the porch picnic table, I can see there has already been a ton of shit talked.

"Both of you grab some wood, we need to talk some shit to you." Connie's beer bottle waves us into this little meeting of minds.

"What the fuck do you two assholes want to talk shit about?" Billy grunts back evenly. As we both side-eye the older Crazies suspiciously, before blindly accepting their gracious offer to join this craptastic convoke.

"What do you think we want to talk shit about, you stupid psycho?" Tommy icy blue evil eyes are boring into mine mischievously.

"Obviously something stupid." I try to shrug him off, but a deep chill starts at my breastbone and starts to spread out through my chest.

Is this some sort of Crazy intervention into my as of yet nonexistent semi-incestuous sex life? Is this the part where the two well-meaning concerned older brother types sit us down? Then explain all the unfortunate consequences of our forbidden love that shall-not-be-named? Or is it something even stupid crazier like...

"So me and Tommy have been talking a lot of shit." Connie beer belches long and loud, to empathizes just how much talking he's been doing. "And we've decided that you need to go out for freshmeat football."

"Freshshit tryouts are in two days, so shit's on princess." Tommy finishes the thought for him, smirking like the asshole jackal he is.

"Yeah, so sorry to kill the dream boys, but I'm really more of a kickball kind of girl?" I see the Devil's smile and I raise him an insincere eye-rolling smirk. "So I'm gonna have to take a pass on that noise. But hey, thanks for drinking of me."

"Ah...super sorry Sammi." Connie sighs sadly. "But we weren't talking to you, we were actually talking to Billy Boy? But hey, maybe you can play Powder Puff someday? But that day is not today day? But hey progress, right?"

"Yeah, not today day?" Tommy smirks himself off the stupid place.

"Right." I roll my neck around and prepare myself for the storm of stupidity coming our way. "Okay, so let's hear why you two geniuses have been thinking thoughts again."

"So we all know that Billy really likes hurting people, right?" Connie muses. "Like blood and screams and smashing into shit is kind of his thing?"

"Which means you're perfect for Special Teams, cause all those fucktards are seriously suicidal." The Devil starts snickering his high hyena laugh. "And as we all know only too well ...you're not exactly the picture of mental health anyways, right? So this is what we're thinking..."

So the Devil goes on to ramble out a bunch of "more words" in no particular order that pretty much amounts to the following points. Football is fucking awesome. Being a Crazy football god is even "awesomer" than awesome. Victory bonfire party orgies are the absolute best thing ever. So Tommy believes that if Billy is as good as they think he could be, that they could end up playing together on varsity this year. But only later in the season after some people get too hurt to play. Which Tommy thinks is a serious possibility, given the abnormally high attrition rate on the Special Teams.