Pat Dylan, contributor
Teachers had their concerns about Andy.
“He always smelled of fine French cheese, and industrial strength airplane glue,” said Mrs. Melfer, his 3rd grade teacher.
Everyone was aware of the puzzling bouquet of aromas, but soon that odd fact would be eclipsed by his propensity to drop trow like George Michael in a truck stop restroom, even if it was only #1.
“It was weird because he wore overalls and rain boots,” his former class mate recounted in horror. “We called him Bare Ass Andy Anchor Pants because it was like he had lead weights in his Osh Koshes, and he never wore underwear. It was really terrible every time he came in there was a startling thud, and he would just stand there, bare assed, sometimes 5 to 6 feet from the urinal, he had pretty good aim…it was actually kinda amazing,” said his former community college roommate.
This talent would put Andy through college, often performing at parties for beer, paint chips, and sometimes money. He would eventually go pro in the P.P.P. (Professional Pissing Promotions), winning the freestyle competition with a William Tell style demonstration of his skills with his future wife who prefers to remain anonymous.
Andy was forced to retire in 2009, due to a gruesome prostate injury. He now lives happily with his wife in Eugene, Oregon selling his bodily fluids, and occasionally catching infirmed raccoons to make them into fanny packs for hipsters.
“It is hard to think. I mean I started just pissing bare assed in school, and that got me to college, now I am thousand air, I make $12,000 every year, fuck you Uncle Cletus, who is the goat fucker now!!!”
Gloats Andy from his Coleman tent estate in a brush person community off I-5.