How The Turd Stole Real
By Dr. Carl
Every Nit down in Nitville liked Transfers a lot.
But the Turd who lived North of Iowa City did not! The Turd hated Transfers!
The whole Transfer season! Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be, perhaps, that his jock was too tight.
It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.
But I think that the most likely reason of all may have been that his brain was two sizes too small.
Staring down from his cave with a sour, Turdy frown at the warm lighted windows below in their town, For he knew every Nit down in Nitville beneath was busy now hanging a Championship wreath. "And they're hanging their banners," he snarled with a sneer. "Tomorrow is Transfer Day! It's practically here!" Then he growled, with his Turd fingers nervously drumming, "I must find some way to keep Real from coming! For, tomorrow, I know all the Nit girls and boys Will wake bright and early. They'll rush for their dodgeballs and toys! And then! Oh, the cheers! Oh, the cheers! Cheers! Cheers! There's one thing I hate! All the WE ARE! PENN STATE! WE ARE! PENN STATE!
They'll stand close together, with white shirts gleaming. They'll stand hand-in-hand, and those Nits will be beaming.
And the more the Turd thought of Real transferring , The more the Turd thought, "I must stop this whole thing! Why for twelve long years I've put up with it now! I must stop Real from coming! But how?" Then he got an idea! An awful idea! The Turd got a wonderful, awful idea! "I know just what to do!" The Turd laughed in his throat. "I'll make a quick businessman hat and a coat." As he climbed to the roof, money bags in his fist. Then he slid down the NIL hole of which he hissed. If Cael could do it, then so could the Turd. Then he slithered and slunk, with his eye on Real, he spent every dollar until he had a deal!
All the Nits still a-bed, All the Nits still a-slumber, when he packed up his satchel, packed it up with their transfer. Ten thousand feet down, down into his sewer, He rode with his transfer ready to Tweet it! "Pooh-pooh to the Nits!" he was turdily humming. "They're finding out now that no Transfer is coming! They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do! Their mouths will hang open a minute or two Then the Nits down in Nitville will all cry boo-hoo!
"That's a noise," grinned the Turd, "that I simply must hear!" He paused, and the Turd put a hand to his ear. And he did hear a sound rising over the snow. It started in low, then it started to grow. But this sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound sounded glad! Every Nit down in Nitville, the tall and the small, Was singing without any transfer at all! He hadn't stopped Championships from coming! They came! Somehow or other, they came just the same! And the Turd, with his turd feet ice-cold in the snow, Stood puzzling and puzzling. "How could it be so? It came without banners! It came without stalls! It came without transfers, dodges, or balls!" He puzzled and puzzled till his puzzler was sore. Then the Turd thought of something he hadn't before. Maybe Championships, he thought, don't come from a store. Championships, perhaps, mean a little bit more! And what happened then? Well, in Nitville they say That the Turd's small brain grew three sizes that day! And then the true meaning of Championships came through. It’s not hand fighting, and pushing out how championships are won. It’s feeling grateful for what you have, and most of all…HAVING FUN!
Merry Christmas to all you Turds, from your big brothers over at Nittany Nation! The above was posted to NN back in April after Real announced his decision, and the post ended up as our most popular of the year. Unless you're a total Grinch, you gotta appreciate the writer’s creativity. Anyway, thought some of you would get a kick out of it, and besides, 'tis the season for sharing and caring. Happiest of holidays to all of you hawkeye turds 🙂 (yes, even to the stingy old scrooge slumlord).
By Dr. Carl
Every Nit down in Nitville liked Transfers a lot.
But the Turd who lived North of Iowa City did not! The Turd hated Transfers!
The whole Transfer season! Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be, perhaps, that his jock was too tight.
It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.
But I think that the most likely reason of all may have been that his brain was two sizes too small.
Staring down from his cave with a sour, Turdy frown at the warm lighted windows below in their town, For he knew every Nit down in Nitville beneath was busy now hanging a Championship wreath. "And they're hanging their banners," he snarled with a sneer. "Tomorrow is Transfer Day! It's practically here!" Then he growled, with his Turd fingers nervously drumming, "I must find some way to keep Real from coming! For, tomorrow, I know all the Nit girls and boys Will wake bright and early. They'll rush for their dodgeballs and toys! And then! Oh, the cheers! Oh, the cheers! Cheers! Cheers! There's one thing I hate! All the WE ARE! PENN STATE! WE ARE! PENN STATE!
They'll stand close together, with white shirts gleaming. They'll stand hand-in-hand, and those Nits will be beaming.
And the more the Turd thought of Real transferring , The more the Turd thought, "I must stop this whole thing! Why for twelve long years I've put up with it now! I must stop Real from coming! But how?" Then he got an idea! An awful idea! The Turd got a wonderful, awful idea! "I know just what to do!" The Turd laughed in his throat. "I'll make a quick businessman hat and a coat." As he climbed to the roof, money bags in his fist. Then he slid down the NIL hole of which he hissed. If Cael could do it, then so could the Turd. Then he slithered and slunk, with his eye on Real, he spent every dollar until he had a deal!
All the Nits still a-bed, All the Nits still a-slumber, when he packed up his satchel, packed it up with their transfer. Ten thousand feet down, down into his sewer, He rode with his transfer ready to Tweet it! "Pooh-pooh to the Nits!" he was turdily humming. "They're finding out now that no Transfer is coming! They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do! Their mouths will hang open a minute or two Then the Nits down in Nitville will all cry boo-hoo!
"That's a noise," grinned the Turd, "that I simply must hear!" He paused, and the Turd put a hand to his ear. And he did hear a sound rising over the snow. It started in low, then it started to grow. But this sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound sounded glad! Every Nit down in Nitville, the tall and the small, Was singing without any transfer at all! He hadn't stopped Championships from coming! They came! Somehow or other, they came just the same! And the Turd, with his turd feet ice-cold in the snow, Stood puzzling and puzzling. "How could it be so? It came without banners! It came without stalls! It came without transfers, dodges, or balls!" He puzzled and puzzled till his puzzler was sore. Then the Turd thought of something he hadn't before. Maybe Championships, he thought, don't come from a store. Championships, perhaps, mean a little bit more! And what happened then? Well, in Nitville they say That the Turd's small brain grew three sizes that day! And then the true meaning of Championships came through. It’s not hand fighting, and pushing out how championships are won. It’s feeling grateful for what you have, and most of all…HAVING FUN!
Merry Christmas to all you Turds, from your big brothers over at Nittany Nation! The above was posted to NN back in April after Real announced his decision, and the post ended up as our most popular of the year. Unless you're a total Grinch, you gotta appreciate the writer’s creativity. Anyway, thought some of you would get a kick out of it, and besides, 'tis the season for sharing and caring. Happiest of holidays to all of you hawkeye turds 🙂 (yes, even to the stingy old scrooge slumlord).
