The timeline is a little hazy, with gaping blank spaces, but it started sometime yesterday afternoon when Short Matt was invited to the country club of his future father-in-law, Judge Scowl, for some recreational tennis. They never finished a single game as Short Matt returned every serve over the fence, but the meeting was mostly so the disapproving Judge Scowl could try and talk him out of marrying his daughter. “You’re a slob, young man, you dress like an usher at a Play Doh factory. What’s more, you’re spreading yourself too thin, devoting yourself to niche sports like rugby, hockey, and baseball, leaving yourself unmotivated to take on real life or the needs of your writers. I mean, just look at this post, completely unedited! Vulgar. Unrefined. Obnoxious!” Short Matt agreed with everything he said. “You’re absolutely right, and I think if I apply myself, I might be able to add some pictures by lunch!”
From there it goes downhill. After some romantic words to his lovely fiancee Kendra, swearing fidelity that evening, Short Matt was whisked away by his pal Cheesy Bruin, who promised a bachelor party full of chicks, fire trucks, and a donkey that could play beer pong. Randy Levine pulled up in a hot tub limo, with Fake Sandy Alderson and Grinding Ax Walter already soaking in the back, and away they all went. Different Matt was supposed to score a reservation at Scores, but on this budget he had to settle for the back room at the new German-Indian hipster hot spot, The Wurst Marigold Hotel. “C’mon, Diff,” complained Junoir Blabber, “this place is a literal sausage fest.” “Well, that’s what it’s been ever since the days of Jillian, Lori Levine, and Cookie.” At least the beer was cold, and Short Matt quickly got into a battle with the donkey, matching it pint for guzzled pint until the poor animal passed out under the table. DJ Eberle was celebrating his Monday off, until Short Matt ordered him in to carry the drunken pack animal out to the elevator.
Happy Labor Day everyone!
