Sightings
“My father had just left to fulfill his dream of becoming an impressionist painter somewhere in the Vermont wilderness, and my football coach, Coach Housen, was busy telling us to “Whip their dicks!” and “Smack their asses!” among various other phrases that didn’t make a lot of sense to those of us sitting in the locker room.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Housen clapped. “I want you to get out there and slap those fannies like you mean it, really dig your shoulder in right around the groin.... And here’s the rub, boys: you gotta commit! Either commit or go home and nurse off your mother’s teat. None of this pantywaist bullwonky. I want nothing less than long term commitment. Bend ’em over. Ride ’em cowboy style. Wrap ’em up and sink your teeth directly into their peters,” he barked, snapping his teeth like a vise, crossing his arms.
“Any questions?”
We had about a million questions.
Why were we putting our shoulders into their groins?
Sink our teeth into their .MoreLess
“You know what I’m talking about,” Housen clapped. “I want you to get out there and slap those fannies like you mean it, really dig your shoulder in right around the groin.... And here’s the rub, boys: you gotta commit! Either commit or go home and nurse off your mother’s teat. None of this pantywaist bullwonky. I want nothing less than long term commitment. Bend ’em over. Ride ’em cowboy style. Wrap ’em up and sink your teeth directly into their peters,” he barked, snapping his teeth like a vise, crossing his arms.
“Any questions?”
We had about a million questions.
Why were we putting our shoulders into their groins?
Sink our teeth into their .MoreLess
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