bretttruck

I dunno whut Coach Childruss wus luggin forr in mah throwin moshin. I throw guud! I bin throwin to dem hahh skewl boyz en they guud at kitchen bawls frum ol’ Brittfarr. Wun day cupple weeks ugo ol’ Brittfarr was throwin’ dem bawls wit da boys reel guud. An den ol’ Peedur Keng gon’ cummon down hear ulda tamm en be awl, [in falsetto voice] “Hey there, sexy Bretty. Wanna come punch that ticket to Canton, big boy?”

An den I gitoll embarsed an say, Nossir, Misser Keng, yew is uh perfesshunal jern-o-list, en yew just playin’ widdoll Brittfarr, aincha? But den he jus keepsonnit an he gon be all, “Now now, Bretty baby. Come back to the Mariott and you can stir my sugar.” But he ain’ talkin bout no shuggur. Unless yew talkin bout da shuggur dat an ol’ feller likesa keep in’is butt.

But ol’ Peeder gon make shur Brittfarr git inda Holla Fayma, so I hadta walkit on back too da Mariott. En yeah, ol’ Brittfarr took a big stir on da buttshuggur. Ol’ throwin’ motion dint feel so guud after dat.

An den I wint back to da feeled whure da boys wure, en onuddum ask whut ol’ Brittfarr wuz doin’. Now I din’t tellum bout stirrin dat buttshuggur. Das pri-vit. So ol’ Britt made uppa lil fib en said, Ol’ Brittfarr wuz pumping HGH. En dey ask wuz HGH? I sad I dunno. But den ol’ Britt found out dat da nixt day, da whole teem winnout en got dem sum HGH. Good thang I didn’t tellum bout the buttshuggur or ol’ Peeter woodna bin able to walk for three dadgum weeks.