Oh, My Aching Back!
Goddamnit, my back hurts. But that’s what I get for trying to raise boxing kangaroos in my apartment. I get a big kangaroo punch in my back! Yowch! Let me start from the beginning.
The other day I was sitting on my couch, trying to figure out how to make enough money so that I could retire for good and live on a sweet ass houseboat, when all of a sudden it hit me: train kangaroos to box and then promote their bouts. Kablammo-that’s a billion dollar idea. If cartoons and sepia-tinted silent filmstrips have taught me anything, it’s that kangaroos make excellent boxers. Now all I had to do was get my hands on some ‘roos and I would be in the money.
I called up the Australian consulate and asked for some kangaroos, but they must have thought it was a prank because they called me a “wanker” and told me to go blow myself. I didn’t have many other options, so I ended up breaking into the zoo and stealing one. Oh boy, did that kangaroo put up a fight. If there’s one lesson I’ve learned about kangaroos in real life, it’s that they DO NOT enjoy having a burlap sack tossed over their heads in the middle of the night and being dragged out of the zoo.
Anyway, I hurt my back because yesterday Destructo(that’s what I’ve named my kangaroo) punched me in the back when I bent over to pick up his boxing gloves for our daily training session. So now I’m back on the couch and well, Destructo pretty much has the run of the house. He’s been running back and forth all day, breaking stuff, and eating all the food out of my refrigerator. As soon as I get back on my feet, I’m going to put him on some sort of leash, teach him some discipline, and mold him into the greatest fighting kangaroo the world has ever seen. That’s a promise.
