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Neighborhood Football

My friends and I laugh about a lot of stuff. Some of the favorite things that we laugh about is when we see each other, or ourselves in physical pain. It's something that guys just love in general. Hurting each other, hurting ourselves, or even seeing some random person in the street in pain. We could laugh about it for hours, and even months later, when everyone has forgotten about it, some one will bring it up and we will laugh even more. One of the favorite things we do to see each other in pain, is play neighborhood football.
We go out every chance we get and throw the old pigskin around. Best friends are worst enemies when we split up into teams. Even before the first play, everyone has someone singled out to try and make cry the whole game. Luckily, there hasn't been any deaths, or fractured bones, or even any injuries other than the, "groin hit." Recently, though, everyone seems to have the same kid singled out, even when they are on the same team. Nobody likes this kid, even off the field, and he isn't even good at football. We just want him to get the ball, so we can hit him over, and over, and over again. I think that we all subconsciously want to show him that he's not all that when he thinks he is. We'll just call him, Little Cocky Ute.
In the most recent game, there was an unfair hit to Little Cocky Ute almost every play. Constant groans, and, "Ouch my head, I can't see!" went on for hours as every one on both teams laughed their heads off as Little Cocky Ute laid down on the ground for minutes at a time inches away from crying. Surprisingly enough, not even a single tear slid down his face as he got up for the next play. By the time the game is over, everybody is so tired and sore that it takes more effort to get home than it does to push a car with no wheels down the street. Amazingly enough, these infamous battles bring us all closer together, and it is a great way to get rid of some of the stress of the day Everyone looks forward to the next game, even Little Cocky Ute, who runs home as fast as he can to ensure no post-game hits. Everyone else laughs to himself as they limp and crawl their ways home, thinking of the great stories to be told later.





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