Subj:   "THE GREATEST STORIES EVER TOLD, #64
         THE REAL STORY

Date:    6/7/01

From:  tony_depaolo@hotmail.com (Tony DePaolo)

To:   macfarlandd@aol.com (Macos

CC:  tomsommers@aol.com (Zip)

Hogsters, greetings and salutations!

Let me clear the air about that Fat F**k Jones.  If his fat-f**king, Chinese-slit-looking eyes were open, the bowling ball would have missed his bucket head!

Bucket Head

To no one's surprise since Macos wrote it, many discrepancies exist in this story.  It all happened at Sigma Pi, Second South Front.  It was not about his disgusting bathroom habits, although they are indeed disgusting.  It went something like this:

It was a mid-week spring football practice and Mr. Magnificent (me) was hung over like a maaa f**ker.

Mr. Magnificent

Sneaking in late, I passed Little Napoleon himself, Sterling Brown, our illustrious tobacco-chewing, midget head football coach.

Little Napoleon
Sterling Brown

He calls me over along with Jaba-the-Hut (Jonsey).  He, Sterling Brown, had this bird-brained idea to film interior line drills.  For all you non-business ad boys, it's real close to caveman fighting over some hot pussy!!  Kind of like the fight I had freshman year with that Apple Pie hog Mike Johnson (broken nose # 4).

Broke Franco's Nose

Anyway, as I said previously, I was extremely hung over it may have been after a grape and grain, can anybody say "seeing eye dog".  In any case fat man and myself assumed the sumo position.  Just before the whistle I whispered to His Fatness, “hey man, I don't feel real good".  I should have realized the f**king jersey ranger wouldn’t cut me a brake!  Well, the whistle blew and that fat shit head clubs me and blows by me like a car passing a truck on the Sure Kill!!!

Fat Shit Head

Now I’m extremely pissed, after about ten minutes of berating by the Little General and Coach Moore we have at it again.  This time I cheat and jump the snap count, and bam!!!  I catch the fat sucker right in the eye straight thru his bucket-head helmet!  Talk about a puss move, Jabba-the-Hut proceeds to stop before the whistle.  I don't, and proceed to pound the Fat F**k.  He proceeds to bitch and complain even after one of Philly John's succulent dinners.

Sigma Pi Cook
Philly John

We go upstairs to good old Second South Front.  He is still whining like an old woman (got a itsy bitsy cut, couple of stitches).  He goes too far and I let the bowling ball fly.

Sissy is still moaning!!!!!!!!!!!

Sissy Still Moaning

FRANCO