wes
KIllerfrog Emeritus
“Old Grandad”,
by Frognosticator
"Dammit, Billy" I screamed into the phone on the one day Billy Clyde Puckett and I were supposed to be discussing his running schemes against the Red Raiders. "Meet me at my office now. RIGHT NOW".
"Yessir", Billy replied.
Billy's drinking exploits were legendary, especially for a young man barely two months into his junior year at TCU. If he wasn't such a damn good running back, he'd be shoveling something disgusting for minimum wage out in West Settlement.
A half-hour later, Billy slouched into my office at AGC. I smelled him before I could see him.
"Do you know anything about the beer cans and whiskey bottle by the student section".
Billy's guilty eyes looked down at my horned frog paper weight. They were glazed over, like the dead sheen of the formica at Old South.
"And divets, how could you leave DIVETS on the field? You ain’t Ben Hogan. What the hell were you thinking?"
It was all Billy could do to stand. His vacant stare remained fixed on my desk. "Sorry coach" he mumbled.
"I don't want to ever see this again. You've got 15 minutes to clean up, or I'll be starting Williams in your place this Saturday, you got it?
"Yeah, coach".
"Now get outta here".
Billy turned to leave, but then stopped.
"What Billy" I asked impatiently.
"Can I have my bottle of Old Grandad back?"
The lump on Billy’s head eventually faded, but my paper weight is still broken to this day.
by Frognosticator
"Dammit, Billy" I screamed into the phone on the one day Billy Clyde Puckett and I were supposed to be discussing his running schemes against the Red Raiders. "Meet me at my office now. RIGHT NOW".
"Yessir", Billy replied.
Billy's drinking exploits were legendary, especially for a young man barely two months into his junior year at TCU. If he wasn't such a damn good running back, he'd be shoveling something disgusting for minimum wage out in West Settlement.
A half-hour later, Billy slouched into my office at AGC. I smelled him before I could see him.
"Do you know anything about the beer cans and whiskey bottle by the student section".
Billy's guilty eyes looked down at my horned frog paper weight. They were glazed over, like the dead sheen of the formica at Old South.
"And divets, how could you leave DIVETS on the field? You ain’t Ben Hogan. What the hell were you thinking?"
It was all Billy could do to stand. His vacant stare remained fixed on my desk. "Sorry coach" he mumbled.
"I don't want to ever see this again. You've got 15 minutes to clean up, or I'll be starting Williams in your place this Saturday, you got it?
"Yeah, coach".
"Now get outta here".
Billy turned to leave, but then stopped.
"What Billy" I asked impatiently.
"Can I have my bottle of Old Grandad back?"
The lump on Billy’s head eventually faded, but my paper weight is still broken to this day.
h34r:
