The Flood


The flood hit without warning. I grabbed what I could carry.
I was determined I would not leave my tickets to the
1988 World Series, Games 3 and 4 behind. The water was approximately
5 feet deep and started to enter my house. I rushed up stairs to my room
and got the tickets from my drawer. I placed the tickets in my waterproof
billfold and opened my window. I dove from my bedroom window into the chilly water below.
I had a canoe in the garage, so I swam over to get it.
I turn it over and prepared to get in when I noticed it had a damn hole in it.
I remember my neighbor Joe Bob had a motorized bass boat.
He was visiting his father in Kentucky, so I figured he wouldn't mind if I barrowed it.
I looked at my watch and saw I only had three hours until game time and I had to get from Pasadena to Oakland.
I cranked up the bass boat and made it within 20 miles of Oakland when the boat ran
out of gas. "F&*#!" I shouted! It looked like I'd have to swin from here. I swam for
5 miles and realized the water was getting more shallow. After another mile and a half the roads were almost completely dry. I walked
along the edge of the raod for a while and decided to hitch a ride.
Some fat, ugly bitch with bucked teeth picked me up and took my the rest of the way to Oakland. I gave five bills and ran inside the stadium.
The first pitch was only moments away. I bought a cold beer and some nachos and securied
to find my seat in time. I was relieved that I made in in time and sat down to
watch the game. Everytime the vendor walked by I bought some more beer.
In all, I had about 10 and was feeling pretty good. I passed out.
I woke up and said "Where the hell am I?! What the f&%@!! I am in the middle of the field!"

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