Feherty's Rants and Raves

Feherty’s Rants and Raves

McCord has always been something of a problem to buy for, but this Christmas is even worse than usual. He has everything an announcer could possibly hope for, and now he even has credibility, so what’s a man to give?

The other day I was flicking through one of those terminally boring catalogs that vomit daily onto our hall floor (in an excuse to get to the one from Victoria’s Secret), when I stumbled across something I thought might be perfect for him. Just to be sure I called Diane, the long-suffering saint who is his wife. Wouldn’t you know it, he already has a pair of steam-driven revolving explodable kneecaps. He also has the split-crotch Bavarian yodeling shorts with matching heated peek-a-boo athletic supporter, so there went my next best idea.

No, the solution came to me out of the blue to say the least. I was reclining in my lawn chair, stroking my inflatable sheep, and shooting the nuts off my neighbor’s pecan tree with the old pellet gun, when I noticed a rustling in the bushes by the veranda. To my amazement, a great big hairy rat snuck out and began to nibble on the crumbs that had fallen from the birdfeeder.

Now, I am not a hunter, and I do not believe that hunting, or fishing for that matter, are sports, as in a sport, generally speaking, both sides are aware that they are playing. On this occasion, however, I was prepared to make an exception, and moments later, I was holding an ex-rodent by the tail, and heading for the trash, when suddenly I was struck by an uncharacteristically brilliant idea. Why not send the flea-ridden little fella to McCord for Christmas? I know, I know, there are a bunch of you who would have thought of it first, but I’m a little slow on the uptake, okay? I ziplocked the little guy, and headed to the taxidermist in a hurry.

I’m having it mounted on a little trophy plaque like a prize mule deer, but with one very important difference. The front end has been tossed out, and only the nethermost region will be displayed. Years from now, whenever anyone walks into Gary’s office and sees it hanging proudly on the wall, it will surely beg a question. He will be able to say, that I was the only one who ever gave a rat’s ass.

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