BįŽåŔřØ BeĞïŅñÎńĢ§:

He awoke choking on his own spit.

Realization dawned upon his groggy mind, like a brick of sobriety shattering his teeth along with the remnants of half-remembered nightmares.

He was late.

He spent the next half an hour searching for an excuse amongst the detritus of shattered teeth and dreams, but found nothing even remotely believable.

He settled on the usual Alien abduction story, and tucked himself into the second hand lay-z-boy recliner to spin the yarn of his excuse sweater. For whatever reason, his excuse sweaters always ended up looking like horrifically ugly XXX-Mas sweaters. It was probably the peek-a-boob holes he always incorporated into the knitting of the chest. After all, when you’ve got a beautiful pair of bresticles, it is your duty as a red-blooded, god-fearing, American to show them off.

“Say no more.” Said his son’s teacher. “Your beautiful man-mammaries are all I need to see. You are a true scion of your community, sir.”

He nodded once, smiled, and spent the next few minutes violently mugging the kindergarteners of their lunch money.

Today was surely a fortuitous day.