Now, we come apun the tale of "the Bozz". A story so raddled by politics, fat free corn and pubes.
Warning story contains sexual, and true life situations, along with the gruesome death of a child, reader discretion is advised.
You see, it twas morning at the Showwalter's house, when an eager child lept up from bed, ran to the window and seemed what to be magic in a form of matter, what this child laid his eyes apon was in fact snow. A substance so lethal to the brain and functions of a young skier it could almost certainly take this young boys future away. This was a well know fact amongst the skiing community, but they dismissed it. The public saw this magical substance as a threat to life as we know it...
Bitches wanting to wear tank tops and short shorts to show their true whoreness was in short supply when the snow fell, as were bros with 6 packs and no cat wanting to see some ass. The fact that they had to shovel their driveway and maybe do a little work brought them to tears. They hated it, and hated all who loved what snow did to the quiet community.
But, regardless of the publics concern, Little Bozz showwalter ventured out to find what was know as the ski bum, the ski bum you see was the master of all ways snow. They can pick out a line in any condition, live off the land and preach the stoke that snow brings. The only Ski Bum in this town was a man named Casey, just Casey. Casey was in fact the best skier on earth. Bozz seeked his knowledge, and he knew the only place ski bums could be on the first snowfall of the year.....the local pub.
When he finally found him, he was 1/2 drunk watching "THE BLIZARD OF AHHHHHHSS" Bozz walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder, he turned around with a mystical look of "who the fuck are you" but he saw the determination in this childs eyes. He let the child speak. Bozz Told him of his quest for ultimate stoke in the trees of heaven. What the bum told bozz was "The mountain brings a mist of magic to all who ride her, you have to harness this magic to be free on her, to do so all it takes is fun and love and a few friends who will show you the way" He turned around and resumed watching the best ski movie ever made.
Bozz thought about these words long and hard all the way home, when he came to the conclusion that he needed his own damn style. So he took out thy old needle and thread and went to work.
The sun peered into his window as a new day approached he slowly woke up and risen. He looked down on his desk to see a sweatshirt so finely made that even he was surprised by the quality of such a sweatshirt. With a patch on the front and a design that was alien to him on the back he put it on, slipped on his ski pants and went up to the hill. For he had never had the steeze he had today.
The jump line looked easy to him today, he dropped in approached the lift with utter steeze, and was in the air he spun like normal and grabbed tail but something happend to him he kinda just went limp in the arms and neck and rode away. To this day what he did has never been done. He will forever live on in the sweater the BOZZ.
Bahahah, i had fun writing this. Might make a book or some shit. hahaha
anyways, yeah. hahah
