Nicky Shares A Story About Her Prize-Losing Ass, Roger

Mike at Too Many Mornings was corresponding with Nicky at We Work For Cheese when he acknowledged that he was bored.

“Nicky, I’m bored again. Please entertain me,” he wrote.

Nicky had an interesting reaction to this request.

“What am I, a dancing monkey?” she replied.

But then, because Mike is a good friend and has been kind enough to entertain Nicky with his tales (and the fact that he bears a striking resemblance to Antonio Banderas, not in his role as Zorro, but rather, his role as Puss in Boots mainly because of his fetish for hats), Nicky decided it was only fair to reciprocate,  don her figurative fez and vest, and dance to the tune of the organ grinder. In other words, share a tale of tail.

My dearest Mike,

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Nicky who loved football. Yes, even at such a young age, Nicky was not your typical girl. While her friends had posters of Shaun Cassidy in their rooms, Nicky had posters of football players in hers.

It was the 70’s, the decade of the Dallas Cowboys and the Pittsburgh Steelers.

dallas cowboys, roger staubach

Ok, besides the really cute tush, he was a hell of a quarterback.

Being a very precocious kid and a lot advanced for her not even 10 years, she chose to root for the Cowboys, mainly because Roger Staubuck had a much cuter ass than Terry Bradshaw. She loved the Steel Curtain defense, particularly Mean Joe Greene, but after weighing the pros and cons of each team, settled on the Cowboys because of Roger’s butt and the fact that the Dallas Cowgirl Cheerleaders were way hotter than the Steelers Cheerleaders.

Yes, even at such a young age, Nicky had somewhat ambiguous and questionable sexual morals and tendencies. She preferred the term “free-spirited”.

Ok,besides the really cute tushes, they had great boobs too. Seriously, can you blame me?

Superbowl XIII was a much anticipated event… Nicky was incredibly excited about it, especially since her parents had finally given in to her unrelenting whining and crying about staying up to watch the game. They made her take a nap during the day, but, in what would become an infernally long pattern of behaviour that would quickly become routine to her, Nicky faked it and they never knew.

Nicky’s older brother knew of her passion for football, and also had an idea of her passion for Roger’s behind. This may, or may not, have been the result of his reading her diary. He denies it still, but Nicky knows he is lying and he did it and will rot in the bowels of Hell for all eternity because of it.

But I digress.

So her older brother loved to taunt her. He told her Roger was going to lose to the Steel Curtain defense. He told her Mean Joe was going to flatten Roger like a pancake.

Nicky had no choice. She had to defend her team, her hero. Even though she knew it was wrong and her parents would not approve, another infernally long pattern of behaviour that would quickly become quite routine to her, little Nicky placed her very first bet. She bet her birthday money that her hero Roger and his gallant Cowboys would win the Superbowl. She would be vindicated!

It was 1978. It was cold. It was dark. It was over far too soon. The final score was 35 – 31. For. The. Steelers.

With a heavy heart, Nicky gave her birthday money to her brother. He paused as he saw the tears in her eyes, the way she was hunched over like a woman of 90 instead of a young girl of 9, the slow, dejected shuffle as she walked away. He paused and looked at the five dollar bill now in his hand.

“Sis,” he said.
“Yes?” she answered.
“You and Roger would make a great couple.” he said
“Really?” she said, perking up slightly.
“Yeah, you’re both LOSERS! Hahahahahahaha.”

And then I killed him so he could rot in the bowels of Hell for all eternity.

fire, brimstone, devil

Of course, since it's not like I'm going to be "upwardly mobile" when I leave this fine planet, that just means he'll be able to taunt me for all eternity. Sigh.

The End.




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  • Mikewj

    Oh, right. You wrote this brilliant comedic post — one of your best — for a “good friend” who reminds you of a pudgy, marble-mouthed kitty who wears thigh-boots and a feathered, floppy hat that even British royalty wouldn’t be caught dead in. Be honest, sweet Nicky: You are madly in love and dream of the day when I finally swoop onto your veranda in my black-leather vest, mask and cape to rescue you with derring-do from the incredibly handsome yet wicked and disgustingly lubed-up Jepeto and his brood of tiresome infants using my surprisingly long and supple rapier, not to mention my rapier-like wit.

    No shame there, my passionate Paella; I’m sure you’re not alone. 

    But be patient, my torrid Tapas. Our time will come. For our mutual affection for cute cheerleader tushy and grand cleavage makes it abundantly clear that we are meant to be together. 

    Either that, or we’re both pervs in need of counseling and some kind of 12-step program.

    But let us not think of that unpleasantness, my enamored Empanada. Let us think instead of what lies ahead. Of the possibilities. Of my surprisingly long and supple rapier, and the rescue from drudgery that awaits you. And the rapier, of course. Let us not forget that. Unsheathed, it is a splendid sword.

    Until then!

  • Ok, you’re on to me. Now get your surprisingly long and supple rapier over here and save me from the disgustingly lubed Jepeto! I can handle the tiresome infants and even a non-lubed Jepeto, but the lubed Jepeto has proven too much!!

    Based on the response to the pole dancing girl I put in my last post, our mutual affection for cute cheerleader tushy and grand cleavage makes it abundantly clear that we are pretty much just like everyone else who has a pulse.

    Still waiting to be rescued from drudgery…

    Also, Paella, Tapas, Empanada? Next time, have a snack before commenting!! 🙂

  • I once bet a girl on the Superbowl, picking the weaker team, just so I could take her to dinner.

  • Well, I guess you wouldn’t be rapier if she consented.

  • Your brother is very funny. A caution about Mike. I’d be wary about stepping out with a guy who every five minutes would say, “Nicky, I’m bored”. Oh, and has a hat for all occasions. Just saying.

  • Was funny, Dufus. He *was* funny. After I killed him, he wasn’t as funny anymore.

    As for your advice, well, wise words, sir. Wise words.

  • That’s funny, I once went to dinner with a guy who…

    Oh wait, never mind.

  • I’m so sorry Nicky lost her bet, Nicky should always be right, especially when it comes to ass. And speaking of ass, “in what would become an infernally long pattern of behaviour that would
    quickly become routine to her, Nicky faked it and they never knew,” this worries me. Not on account of me, mind you, I know I Skyped Nicky so good she could barely type the next day, but on account of Jepeto’s fragile male pride. Perhaps it’s best if Nicky would let Ziva break the news to Jepeto.

  • Ziva, you Skyped me so good I still have trouble typing!!

    And don’t worry about Jepeto, Lemmikki. In case you hadn’t noticed, the boy has no pride. Or is that shame? Or both? Yeah, definitely both!

  • You definitely filled the bill.  No boredom here!

  • Meleah thinks Nicky is friggen hilarious. Meleah also thinks football cheerleaders are smoking hot. And Meleah thinks Nicky’s brother is mean for taking her five dollars & calling her a loser, even though that made Meleah laugh out loud.

  • Nicky, no discussion of football or asses is complete without mentioning the SF 49ers and Joe Montana and Steve Young and Jerry Rice.  All three of them deserve a mention here and not just for winning 5 Superbowls.  Your brother was evil.  I’m glad you took care of him.  Jepeto lubed is about the same as Jepeto unlubed.  Don’t let Michael’s bragging about his rapier impress you too much.  (I’ve heard differing accounts of it, I’m just saying…)  I’m just glad he didn’t call you his little taco because that would be a bit shady.  Know what I mean?

  • I had the WICKEDEST crush on Joe Montana. I bet against him in ’85, when they played against Dan Marino and the Dolphins in the hopes that it would actually help them win. I lost another $5, but was really happy that my plan worked and they won the Superbowl. He was, arguably, the greatest quarterback ever!!

    My brother was a typical 11 year old boy, so yeah, he was evil 🙂

    You are so right. Jepeto, by any other lube, is still Jepeto.

    One day you need to tell me the story the girl at the picnic shared with you about Michael.

  • Nicky loves Meleah, who is far more smoking hot than any cheerleader! Nicky’s brother was mean, but eventually grew up to be nasty. They get along just great now! 🙂

  • Thank you, Linda! I’m glad you enjoyed it 🙂

  • We were doing some last minute Christmas shopping at Neiman Marcus in San Francisco.  I think it was about 1981.  The kids were young (Sheila, about 11 and John about 14).  At the counter next to us stood this tall guy with the bluest eyes I had ever seen.  It was Joe Montana and his pregnant fiance Jennifer.  John asked for and got his autograph.  He was stunning!  (I understand  she was too, according to my son, but I only had eyes for Joe.)  Steve Young was actually even cuter.

    One day, we’ll share a bottle of Jack and I’ll tell you all about Michael, the girl at the picnic and all that jazz.  I may make some of it up as I go along, but it’ll be a wonderful tale of angry rapiers.

  • Meleah is VERY happy Nicky & her brother “get along” these days.

  • You might not have wanted to confess to that online.

  • Mikewj

    What picnic? What girl? What story? Will somebody please clue me in to the details of my life? I have no idea what any of you are talking about. I’m so confused.

  • That? What? Which that? The faking it, the cheerleaders, rooting for the Cowboys, placing a bet, being a loser, or murdering my brother? So many to choose from…

  • I’m with Linda.   Joe Montana *sigh*.  No need to fake anything there.   

  • Now I understand how you’re able to put up with Jepeto.   Clearly, life with your brother prepared you well.    For me there was only one quarterback — Joe Montana.   And only one team — the ’49ers.   I quit watching football when he retired.   

  • Great story, I was entertained. And yeah, I don’t blame you for the cheerleader fetish.I found myself paused at the pic of their great asses for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Are we bi?

  • While having two brothers helped, nothing quite prepares one for Jepeto! 🙂

    Joe Montana had the most stunning eyes (and ass!) ever! He was also an amazing quarterback and probably my favourite football player ever.

  • Thank you Sandra! I don’t think we’re bi. We’re just experimenting. For a really, really long time.


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