I hate Slip N Slides

As reigning champion of Slip N Slide dreadfully calamitous endings, I decided to change things up so my exhibition wouldn’t come to a skin-to-rubber flesh burning screeching halt.

This time I generously rubbed Crisco shortening not only on me, but on the 20 foot blue sliding apparatus as well. I also placed it at the top of the hill in my back yard for maximum velocity.

With the water gushing onto my launching pad from my power washer I took my graceful yet athletically masculine 12 step sprinting head start and catapulted my body into the air superbly synonymous to the likeness of Superman.

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Back to the action: I hit the sliding material and shot off like a scud missile. I seemed to gain speed as I progressed forward. Broaching 60 MPH I recall children, adults, picnic tables, and wooden fence particles catapulting upward like ping pong balls in those glass bubble lottery machines as I crash through one neighbor’s fence after another.

My wayward water works hydroplane egregiously ended when I met a neighbor that had, unfortunately for me, selected the chain link variety of fencing.

After dislodging most of my now askew checker-board welted face and body I tought; this particular fence was much stronger than one would think, and it left quite the impression on me.

It goes without saying that, literally, and metaphorically, I have many a fence to mend.