Fredtastic-AL

In which AL explains what a DOUCHE Fred is


If you are like me, you've been waiting and wondering "where, oh where, can poor Fred's post be; oh where, oh where can it be?" I mean, Fred wow-ed us with his prowess at the Halloween Party where he wined 'em and dined 'em and even woo-ed 'em a bit.




Fred told us how his unparalelled party performance led to Craigmeur permission for this last Sunday. Logically, we were waiting for his stunning sideline pics and thrilling color commentary. But nothing... we waited. And still nothing...we waited.

Finally, I could wait no more. I approached the legend and asked the age old question, "what the fuck Fred?" Fred told a tale of terror, horror, and mayhem. Lock up your children folks, and drape your shawls tight about you. This one's a doosy. (By the way, how the fuck does one spell "doosy?")


The wind poured across the brutal steppes of New Jersey, driving snow and sleet mercilessly down upon our hero. (Ok, this was an out of season ski mountain and it was sunny and cool, but go with me.) Fred pulled his trusty steed out of the stall (Yanked the Zank outta the Yak rack) and set out to explore the wild wilderness that was the Craigmeur course.

As Fred motored through a practice loop, he made a startling discovery: the course would call for riders to transition from the upper mountain to a lower section by navigating class 5 rapids, crossing a chasm akin to the Grand Canyon, and braving several South Central backstreets (gats a-blazin'). Fearless Fred propelled himself over downed trees and glacial erratics, past crackheads and slowly cranking crossers. At some point he felt a rumbling from deep within the earth. It was a quake, and Fred's keen senses could tell it was a big one. He careened down the trembling terra (not so) firma trying to find stable ground. But there, ahead of him! A damsel in distress. She'd fallen during dismount and was still clipped in with one foot. The earth was open before her and the land fell away towards the open maw. She would certainly be swallowed. Brave Fred flung himself into the hole, spreading his 7 foot 7 inch frame across the opening. The maiden used our bony buddy as a ladder and climbed to freedom. But the ground grabbed up our Fred. He was chewed up by mud and gravel (and even some concrete). She dug to save him, but it was too late. He lay, broken and battered, the victim of an act of god.



In the end, Fred would rise from the ashes like the Phoenix.


But a painful bruise on his vulva would keep him from racing.

Sniff. Hang tough brother. We're with you.