I wonder if these are those magic tickets, that are good for any game?
The Fable of mikiemo and the Magic Tickets.
There was once upon a time a poor moderator named dchester, and a poster named mikiemo. And all they had to live on was stuff mikiemo found in garbage cans every morning, which they ate often, and sometimes got quite ill. But one morning mikiemo found no garbage since the garbage men got there before mikiemo got out of bed after a long night of camping and chili, and they didn't know what to do.
"What shall we do, what shall we do?" said the moderator, wringing his hands.
"Cheer up, dchester, I'll go and get work somewhere,maybe working the streets" said mikiemo.
"We've tried that before, and nobody would take you," said dchester. "We must get money somehow, or we'll starve."
"All right, dchester," says Mikiemo. "It's a cool summer night, and I'll soon sell my body at a rest area somewhere, and then we'll see what we can do."
So he put on his halter top, and off he started. He hadn't gone far when he met a funny-looking old man, who said to him, "How much, buddy?"
"Five dollars," said mikiemo, "My name is mikiemo, but you can call me Candy."
"Well, Candy, and where should we go to?" said the man.
"We could go behind that dumpster over there."
"Ok, excellent," said the man. "I hope the cops don't decide to check out the alley and catch us."
*cue 'Love Theme From mikiemo and The Magic Tickets' song*
"That was amazing," says the man, "but you know, I don't actually have any cash on me." he went on, zipping up his fly as mikiemo made a mental note to get the money first next time.
"However," says the man. "I think I have something here you'll like."
"Ah! Those look like Patriots home game tickets," exclaimed mikiemo. "But what game are they for?"
"Yes, young man, that is what they are. Plus, they are good for any game you want to see."
"Right," says mikiemo, as the man hands him over the tickets and walks off.
Back goes mikiemo to his home, and as he hadn't gone very far it wasn't dusk by the time he got to his door.
"Back already, mikiemo?" said the moderator. "I see you had some business, by the look of you. How much did you get?"
"You'll never guess, dchester." says mikiemo.
"No, you don't say so. Good boy! Five dollars? Ten? Fifteen? No, it can't be twenty."
"I told you you couldn't guess. What do you say to these tickets? They're magical. We can sell them on the internet and -- "
"What!" says dchester. "Have you been such a fool, such a dolt, such an idiot, as to give away your precious body, , for a set of paltry fake tickets? Take that! Take that! Take that! And as for your precious tickets here they go out of the window. And now off with you to bed. Not a sup shall you drink, and not a bit shall you swallow this very night."
So mikiemo went upstairs to his little room in the attic, and sad and sorry he was, to be sure.
At last he dropped off to sleep.
When he woke up, the room looked so funny. The sun was shining into part of it, and yet all the rest was quite dark and shady. So mikiemo jumped up and dressed himself and went to the window. And what do you think he saw? Well, the garbage men were already here again, so he knew he'd have no breakfast. He was initially disappointed, but then he noticed something else. Why, the tickets that dchester had thrown out of the window into the alley had sprung up into a big private box that looked just like the ones at Gillette Stadium which went up and up and up till it reached the sky. So the man spoke truth after all.
The private box grew up quite close past mikiemo's window, so all he had to do was to open it and give a jump onto the roof of the private box. So mikiemo climbed down off the roof of the private box, and he climbed into it through the open front. And when he got there he found a wet bar, a television, a table full of food buffet-style, and he ate and drank his fill until he passed out in a food and booze-induced sleep. When he awoke, he noticed a long broad road going as straight as a dart. So he walked along, and he walked along, and he walked along till he came to a great big tall lighthouse that looked exactly like the one at The Razor, and on the doorstep there was a great big tall woman.
"Good morning, miss, says mikiemo, quite polite-like. "Could you be so kind as to give me some breakfast? I had way too much to drink last night, and my stomach is rumbling like Vince Wilfork running down the field after an interception."
"It's breakfast you want, is it?" says the great big tall woman. "Maybe you need to get your ass in the kitchen and make us some sandwiches, if you know what's good for you. I'm watching the game."
"Oh! please, mum, don't hurt me, mum. I'll do that, really and truly, mum," says mikiemo. "If you would please show me where it is."
Well, the woman, named Paz, was not half so bad after all. So she took mikiemo into the kitchen, and showed him where everything was he would need to make her some sandwiches. But mikiemo hadn't half finished these tasks when thump! thump! thump! the whole house began to tremble with the noise of someone coming.
"Goodness gracious me! It's my old man," said Paz. "What on earth shall I do? Come along quick and jump in here." And she bundled mikiemo into the oven just as her husband came in.
He was a big guy, to be sure. At his belt he had three coyotes strung up by the heels, and he unhooked them and threw them down on the table and said, "Here, wife, look what I found while I was on my way home from work. Ah! what's this I smell?
Fee-fi-fo-fore
I smell the odor of a drunken manwhore...
*To be continued... maybe...*
