Archery for Donuts
Let’s keep it real here, you glutenous bastards.
I’m only going to say this once.
If you want to learn archery, then hearken to my spiel, as they say in Deutschland. (Where the pastries are classy, and the maidens are sassy!)
I don’t care if you’re white, black, brown, or have sprinkles ‘round your hole. What I’m going to say applies to you.
All of you.
They said no one could teach archery to donuts.
The last time someone tried, he went all William Tell on an apple fritter.
Last I heard, he was doing 7 years at a Krispy Kreme.
When I told people I was going to teach archery to donuts, they said I’d been snorting too much powdered sugar.
Well, maybe I have, but who’s laughing now?
I believe it was William Shakespeare who once said, “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when donuts practice archery.”
No, it was not Sir Walter Freaking Scott who said that, Crumble-Top. Who’s teaching this class anyway? Then shut up and listen, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn something.
You want to be an archer?
The first thing you need to do is to recognize your limitations.
Keeping it real, here.
You think you can handle a compound bow with a 70-pound draw?
None of you has the crumb structure for that.
Now, a 7-day-old “everything” bagel, maybe.
But not you — you’re too young. When I was your age, I was sucking my mother’s tit.
But I didn’t give up — that’s my point.
And look at me now.
Quit looking at me like the Eye of Sauron, Cruller.
Let’s get down to it.
The most important thing you need to do, as an archer, is to choose your target wisely. And recognize that at your introductory skill level, you will probably have to start out firing swizzle sticks with elastic bands. In other words, you won’t kill your target with one shot. After 18, 20 shots, maybe.
What I’m saying is, bring a back-up weapon, just in case. Like a big dog, just to finish the job.
“Dogs eat donuts,” you say, Boston Cream? Well, I guess some of them do.
Don’t make that “O” face at me, Old-Fashioned Plain. I’m talking reality here. Now, drop it like it’s hot and give me a dozen.
And while he’s doing that, let me tell you a story. About ten years ago, when I was in St. John’s, Newfoundland, I saw a donut propping up a retaining wall. Went back five years later and it was still there. It was the ugliest donut I ever saw. It could have been a tea bun, actually. But the point is, it could have been any one of you.
You can do anything you set your mind to. Within reason.
Oh, am I boring you, Canadian Maple?
No? Then quit giving me that glazed look.
Don’t give me that “I’ve got resting glaze-face” malarkey.
You don’t know about life until you’ve lived it. You don’t know how it feels to be alienated from society. You’d understand if you’d read The Catcher in the Rye. What’s The Catcher in the Rye? It’s a book about a baseball player who breaks into a deli and motorboats the Reuben sandwiches.
With a little hard work and dedication, that could be you.
I mean, being motorboated. No way any of you are going to play baseball professionally.
Keeping it real, here.