By: Jack Hutsey
SUGAR TREE, TENN.— I’m so proud of my hometown. They took a moral stand against bigotry and racism and tore down a controversial statue of Robert E. Lee, who famously avoided visiting Sugar Tree after the war due to a strong sulfurous smell.
To replace the memorial, the city council commissioned a new statue from an avant-garde German artisan simply named Balmoral. Balmoral worked for three months and unveiled the new monument at the Thanksgiving Jamboree.
It was a bronze statue of TV’s Alf: dick, balls, taint and all. Balmoral called it “an indictment of greed and commercialism” and that a fully-erect Alf was the “grotesque final machination of American capitalism”.
Initially, townsfolk were outraged. Why had the city spent taxpayer money on an obscene representation of a beloved ‘80s icon? Further investigation showed that Balmoral did not accept any money for his services, instead opting for a 2012 Kawasaki Jet Ski Ultra 310X. This effectively put the issue to rest.
The trouble didn’t start until the Saturday during the Vanderbilt-Tennessee football game when Dorothy Partridge, 81, said the offensive lineman for the Volunteers had “bulbous rump roasts”.
That was the beginning. The statue had some sort of horny magic that turned everyone into libidinous, thirsty cretins.
Handy Js at Baskin Robbins. Blowjobs in the Best Buy parking lot. Dry humping at the Dairy Queen. All once taboo acts now practiced openly.
Packs of horny citizens ransack the Costco for fuckfuel: Gardettos and Glacier Cherry Gatorade.
The town is deserted at 5pm. The poppers ran out six days ago. The internet is slow. Pornhub is scouting for a new office park two miles outside the city limits.
Even now, I write this in the throes of coitus. My bed has deteriorated to a pile of Papa Johns boxes. My soul is a torn Richard Petty shirt.
Beware, the aroused Alf. He brings only doom.