You see kids, back in my day we didn't have Nintendo Wee Wees and your fancy Peestation Fives.  We entertained ourselves using our imaginations.  For instance, my favorite game as a child was stickball.  Of course, we couldn't afford sticks or balls, so we improvised.  We would tie up a stray dog in a burlap sack and fling it against the side of a house.  Obviously our parents couldn't afford houses though, so we usually flung them at a brick wall.  Then they tore the wall down, so we had to beat the stray dogs with sticks, which as I said before, we couldn't afford.  Anyway it turned out the dog wasn't stray, but actually belonged to my neighbors Ted and Ethel.  It also turned out that, according to them, "dog" and "son" don't quite mean the same thing, but that's a story for another day.

   School was different too.  We didn't get any pansy "recess time."  We got a 5 minute break each day at noon, during which time our teacher, Mrs. Butterscotch, would point out character flaws in the weaker children and encouraged others to use said flaws in their insults.  The weaker kids cried, the tougher kids laughed, and Mrs. Butterscotch used the ensuing tumult to see how fast she could down a quart of Jim Beam unnoticed.

   After school the kids would gather in the street near the school to play "kick the can."  But as you probably guessed, we couldn't afford cans.  Instead, we would shout insults at the local homeless drunk, Bill.  Bill died in a snowstorm one cold February day.  The doctors said it was from a combination of hypothermia, liver failure, and the fact that everyone in town was throwing rocks at him.

 

   Ahhh I'm done talking to you kids now.  Go grab your little sister and go play some stickball.