Team Tea Bag
The views expressed in these submissions are from anonymous, unverified sources and do not necessarily represent those of the Portland Mercury.
You think you're so cool for beating us at kickball, you washed up, beer bellied frat boys. Like winning a kickball game could make up for the time you were cut from your high school football team, or the laughs you got when you actually got a girl drunk enough to witness your tiny penis. It's kickball, asshole. People are out there to have a good time, drink beer, and meet people. Not take out pent-up inadequacy issues with random people who are having more fun than you. So, you can imagine my delight when you walked into my restaurant. I knew you wouldn't recognize me from the game because you were all too busy jacking each other off over how great you were. Well, I remember you and every other wanker that was on your team, and I tea bagged the shit out of your drinks. So did two other people on shift with me. And it felt goooood. I don't serve my pubic hair a lot, but if I see you or any of your fat friends in my restaurant again, I won't hesitate. Neither will my other teammates who work in restaurants all around the city.—Anonymous