The Tale of The Texan

A few years ago, on Halloween night, a lovely young lady consented to accompany me on a date.

HEY, COME BACK, THAT’S NOT THE SCARY PART!

After a romantic dinner at Sizzler, we drove to Lovers’ Lane so I could work off that five slices of cheese toast. It was at a cliff’s edge with a beautiful view of Hollywood, and just far enough away that the view of Hollywood actually was beautiful. We were starting to get busy when the quiet storm building on the radio was suddenly interrupted by a news bulletin.

It seems that a man had escaped from a local insane asylum. This particular man was called The Texan. He’d been locked away because he drove his family and friends insane with delusional yammerings about a football team his feverish mind had invented called the “Houston Texans”. Early on, whenever anyone accused him of making the Texans up, he would attack them with a mallet. Despite an enormous head made entirely of lead, the mallet proved feckless and ineffective, and The Texan discarded it in favor of an ever-changing roster of equally disappointing weapons.

I was of a mind to take the advice of the O’Jays and keep the love train rolling before I lost the feeling, but the radio report had disturbed my girlfriend. The asylum that The Texan had escaped from was nearby, and she feared that he would infiltrate our secret love nest. I kept working my best moves, but soon the bucket of popcorn in my lap was empty and so was her reservoir of patience. Reluctantly, I peeled out of Lovers’ Lane and drove her home.

As I let her out of the car, she unleashed the most unholy scream I’ve ever heard. I asked her what was wrong, but she couldn’t speak. She pointed a shaking hand to the back of the car, and my eyes followed her finger to the rear tire. Tangled around the wheel were the tattered, bloody remains of a red, white, and blue football jersey with the name “Schaub” on the back. I turned the jersey over, and what I saw on the front will haunt my dreams for the rest of my days.

At the base of the collar was an embroidered patch. It said “Texans”.

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[…] The Tale of the Texan by FMWarner […]

Old School Zero

Sizzler? Lookit the 1 percenter we got here!

ballsofsteelandfury

Hey, it got him laid. You can’t argue with the results!

Moose -The End Is Well Nigh

The Sizzler has meat AND fish.

Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

I assume that the popcorn ran out faster than usual because there was a hole in the bottom of the container?

Doktor Zymm

I’m gonna go make some popcorn.

Old School Zero

I’ll just hold on to this popcorn bucket, then.

Moose -The End Is Well Nigh

HEY! That’s NOT butter!!