Biff was the only kid in the neighborhood that had a football. Between all the other kids there were baseballs and bats and hockey pucks and skates and soccer balls and kick balls. But Biff was the only one with a football.
Sometimes the kids wanted to play football, so they’d tell Biff to get his football and they’d play. At first there was no hassle. Then Biff got wise.
He decided whenever the kids wanted to play football, they’d have to come to his house and beg him to play. He decided they’d have to beg and tell him how awesome a kid he was in order for him to let them play with him and his football.
Then Biff got really greedy. In addition to the accolades and acquiescence, he said when they came to his house to beg to play with his football, he wanted them to show up with some candy bars and Cokes too.
One afternoon the boys went to Biff’s to praise him and offer him soda pop and candy bars in exchange for playing with him and his football.
Pleased with his scheme, Biff grabbed the booty from his friends. He went inside and got his football and all the boys followed Biff with his football out to the field.
At the field, the boys chose teams. Biff’s team said Biff ought to be quarterback, but Biff decided he wanted to be wide receiver. As quarterback or running back he didn’t like getting hit. So Biff told them if he couldn’t be wide receiver, they weren’t gonna play with his football.
They agreed to let Biff be receiver. On the first play, Biff ran deep. The quarterback lobbed a high, lazy floater to Biff. It had all been planned out, regardless of what position Biff put himself in.
As the ball left the quarterback’s hand, Biff’s defender gained a full head of steam and made a beeline for the defenseless Biff. Just before impact, his defender lowered his head and raised his elbow, aiming for anything above Biff’s neck. Before the ball could land in Biff’s hands, he got walloped – viciously blindsided with an elbow to his skull. The blow knocked Biff off his feet and instantly unconscious. He collapsed and bounced off the hard ground as if struck dead.
All the boys gathered around an unconscious Biff. They all laughed and began spitting all over the helpless Biff. Then one of the boys took out his pecker and pissed all over Biff. The rest followed suit, with one taking particular glee in filling Biff’s ear with his warm, cloudy pee.
When Biff woke up, it was just him and his football in a pasty puddle of his friends’ urine. Biff could tell by the smell and all the gnats what it was.
A few days later the same boys showed up at Biff’s house. Biff went to the door thinking they were there to apologize, assuming the apology would include some more Cokes and candy bars.
Biff answered the door. They asked him if he wanted to play football. Biff examined them closely. They had come empty handed.
“Where’s the Cokes and candy bars?” Biff asked.
Bewildered, the boys turned from Biff to look at one another.
One of the boys finally asked another, “You got a baseball, dontcha?”
“Yeah,” the other one said.
“And we got mits and bats?”
The group confirmed they did.
“Then fuck this guy. Let’s play baseball.”
They all turned to leave.
Biff stood at his door and wailed, “Can’t I play?”
“No,” one of his friends said. “You got your goddamned football.”
Biff closed the door and went to his room and cried. He felt betrayed. He couldn’t understand why his friends were leaving him behind when he’d been so nice as to share his football so many times, knowing they had no football of their own.