The Loser’s Kid!

Back in Little League days, your next door neighbor’s kid made the All-star team. Your son was stationed far out in right field, so afraid of the ball he ran away from it rather than toward it.

When senior prom came along, your best friend’s son was invited by the home-coming queen. Your overweight, acne-faced 17 year old sat home and played computer games, masturbating into a sock which he conspicuously left just outside his bedroom door.

Now it’s college acceptance time. Your sister’s son has been accepted at Yale and Stanford, while your surly misfit has been rejected by West Wyoming Technical and half a dozen other schools you’ve never heard of.

He’s already on anti-depressants, and last week threatened to smash your wife over the head with a porcelain lamp. You’ve taken to going to bed at night with your bedroom door locked.

Still, you tell yourself, this is just a phase. The kid’s a late bloomer -- just needs to find something that turns him on. He’s bright as hell, just doesn’t test well. Riiight.

Listen, Dad, Pop, Mr. Denial, the time has come to face reality. And I’m just the guy to help.


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