It was my brother’s birthday, so we got a bunch of friends together and headed out to a local amusement park to hang out and celebrate. When we arrived we went straight in to get something to eat. We had skipped breakfast in a rush so we were all pretty hungry. The eatery place we were at had a water lift you could take when you were done eating that took you to another part of the park. We thought it would be a good idea to continue our day and take this lift out to see the rest of the park.

JT went first. He stepped inside the cylinder, it filled with water and off he went. I was going to go next but the thing started shaking uncontrollably. I’m pretty fond of my life, so I waited for a mechanic arrived instead of taking my chances and riding the chute. The mechanic got there and opened up the innards of the thing and in a thick german accent, he noted to me the exact part that was busted and how he was going to have to replace it before the ride would work again.

No problem. We had lost JT, but gained an excuse to drink some of the beers that were now onsale at the eatery we were in. There were a lot of very good beers to be had here, but the real kitschy draw to the whole thing was the jugs that the beer was served in. They resembled the ball jars that moonshine comes in, but were made out of thick cherry wood. We all had a few cold ones and enjoyed the cheesy amusement park atmosphere, then headed out to find JT.

That’s when things started getting weird. As we wondered around the amusement park, we managed to get lost. Eventually we ended up at a less-than-cared-for end of the amusement park that looked like no one had used in ages. We went in and found what looked like an old shopping mall for small people. There were a lot of little stalls that lined the hallway, but they were all abandoned. Eventually we got tired of our exploring and decided to leave the dilapidated shopping center.

On the way out, my brother and I found some golf clubs laying around. We were pretty interested and started rooting through them to see if there were any worth keeping. There wasn’t any worth keeping. They were all clubs that were the length of my forearm. Nevertheless, some other annoying park goers were now peering into the mall at us pillaging these abandoned golf clubs.

At this point our friends with us had gotten bored with our explorations and had left to see the rest of the park. So Clint and I stared blankly back at these intruders wondering what exactly they thought was so interesting to stare at. Eventually, we figured they were plain old jerks as one of the boneheads came in, and told us he was alerting security that we were stealing the parks golf clubs.

Great. Just great.

But then just about that time, our friends came back with JT. When Clint and I told them what had transpired we set out to terrorize the tattle-tails.