2-0 U.S. whooping the fleet footed kangaroo people. Half time. Corgi’s barking. And… Is that the parasite kicking a ball?

(it was eery looking over at the parasite and seeing the purple blod kicking a tennis ball)

What are you doing?

“Learning to play soccer.” The tennis ball bounced off the television set.

I thought you hated soccer so why now?

“I don’t have to answer your questions. Watch this.” The parasite flipped one of its purple tentacles and whacked the tennis ball so hard it knocked of a spare .12 gauge shotgun shell of the windowsill.

Nice to see you coming around. Not so nice to see your skill set. Maybe to you stick to knitting sweaters out of corgi fur?

“No one wants corgi sweaters. Watch this one…” Whack! Smash! Crash! The wayward tennis ball took out the moonshine glass.

I was drinking that. Maybe go outside and practice?

“Whatever.”

***

Go U.S.A. and, kangaroo does not taste like chicken, tastes more like koala bear.