Busty Solos

With all this new knowledge, I focused my attention on sports and
stopped hitting little girls. I felt thought if someone I was competing
against in a sport hit me, I could justifiably and probably hit them
back without the threat of retaliation from a Big Brother. From the age
of 7 until I turned 16, I ran up against a whole different set of
problems, though. Not to appear boastful, but I was pretty good at
almost every sport I tried out for. I didn’t have any silly dreams of
becoming an All American. I just wanted to be good enough to make
everyone forget about Johnny Unitas, Wilt Chamberlain and Sandy Koufax.
But again, those dreaded girls came out of the woodwork. Thankfully,
they had retired their Mohammed Ali like jabs and, more importantly,
their brothers were chained up in basements, or in jail where they
belonged. The girls now began giving me these strange looks instead of
hitting me, and started to ask me to walk them home from school, like I
was some kind of bodyguard. A few even suggested we do our homework
together. Boy, these frilly little things sure were dumb. I could take
the garbage out at home by myself! I had to be told 8 or 9 dozen times,
but I certainly didn’t need their help doing it. Little did I know all
of their kindness made these girls even more dangerous. To be fair, they
weren’t this way intentionally. Anyway, this was when I enrolled in my
second extracurricular studies; ‘The Disposition of a Jealous
Boyfriend’.