My Encounter with Fuzzy Wuzzy
Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear;
and it is said that Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.
But did you ever stop to think why?
Back a few months ago, I was in the lush, green forests of Canada.
Romping around as I may romp,
when I came across a distillery.
Now, 99 bottles of beer on the wall may be enough for some,
But nothing beets some good old fashioned whiskey made by crazy hill-billies.
So after about 3 kegs worth of the good stuff, I was on my merry way,
when I came across a cave.
Now, when your drunk, your especially stupid.
It doesn't help if your stupid to begin with, either.
So when I took out my flash light, and shined it on the brown bear sleeping within,
I somehow mistook it for some kind hairy hobo, and in a burst of inspiration I decided I should shave him.
When your in the forest, drunk off your arse, don't carry a razor.
And if you do carry a razor, don't use it to shave the woodland creatures.
Now, like I said before, Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear.
But Fuzzy Wuzzy, after I played barber, was a very, very, angry bear.
He used his claws to slash out my eyes, which took a very long time to heal after extensive surgery.
Then he used his massive maw to grab hold of my body, swinging me to and fro,
throwing my body into the side of the wall, until I was on the brink of unconsciousness.
With the last remnants of my eyesight, I saw the bear rise up in front of me, with his package dangling dangerously close to my hand,
which still wielded the razor. So I did what any drunkard out shaving bears would do.
God forgive me and that helpless bear.
Anyhow, I crawled my way out of the cave and managed to make it back to the camp with the others,
That is, after the bear ran off making sounds like a little girl falling off a ravine.
I later told my friends my story, but my colleagues just laughed and called me the greatest tale spinner who ever spun gold.
Fuzzy Wuzzy was a great, manly bear;
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair, though;
And I can tell you certain parts have far less hair then others.