My Cursed High School Football Jersey

To fully appreciate the relic I wish to bestow upon the lucky inquisitor who is the most steadfast in obtaining it, I must first give you its history.

The year: 1988. The time: Around 8pm. The place: North Shore Football Field.
It was our homecoming game and we were playing our most hated rivals, the South West Rattlers. I hadn’t been able to sleep very well the night before and the anxiety levels were still thrusting on high. This would be the night that would not only define my high school football career, but also a litmus test for the type of man I would grow up to be.

When I stepped onto the field, all anxiety and thinking stopped and I became a warrior. Warrior #12. I can remember it like it was yesterday. “Blue 19! Blue 19! Red 42! Red 42! Set…hut hut!!!” Time would slow down and I would enter what all great athletes refer to as “the zone”. By half time I had competed 12 of 15 passes for 179yds and 2 TDs. I was on fire. But our defense was struggling and the Rattlers were ahead by a field goal. On the sidelines I gave perhaps the most riling and encouraging speech of all time. I said, “Men, there comes a time in one’s life where we must put pain aside for pride, fear aside for victory, and women aside for showering with other men! Who’s with me?” Our huddle exploded with a rally cry that would have sent a chill up the spines of war hungry Vikings a millennium ago. We were thirsty for blood and our thirst could only be quenched by the precious bodily fluids of the Rattlers.

The next twenty seven minutes felt like an eternity. I had thrown for another touchdown, but we were still down four points. Our running back, Otis, had broken his leg and had to be taken off the field by a stretcher. With only a few seconds left and no time outs, we were 65 yards away from the end zone. I put us in the hurry up offense and drove down the field 58 yards. With 7yds to go and 4 seconds on the clocks, it was my moment of truth. The crowd became silent under the thundering beat of my heart. “Green 47! Green 47! Seeeettttt…hut!” And that’s when I shit my pants.

I was so surprised by the ungodly mass of warm Hershey squirts that I forgot about the game and dropped the ball. I was immediately swarmed by their defensive unit and knocked unconscious. I'm pretty sure somebody stepped on by testicles too. I woke up to fingers pointing and children laughing. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha, you pooped your pants!” The echoes of their diabolical teasing still resound in my ears. Time had run out and I had failed the team because my bowels had failed me. I mean, who does that? And the smell...Jesus, the smell.

To this day I have no idea why I soiled myself during such a dramatic moment. Now I’m a 340lb divorced alcoholic living in my grandmother’s basement and working nights at the local Ihop. The most exercise I get if from my daily masturbation sessions which are spiraling out of control. I have had a difficult time letting go of the past and figure by up giving my jersey I might be able to move forward. I'll start the bidding at $300.00, I think that is reasonable. So please help me reverse the curse. Also if you are a hot chick holla at ya boy, I still got girth.

P.S. No Fatties