The tag on the edge of his bed forbade him

The tag on the edge of his bed forbade him from removing it. He worked at the store, but he'd purchased it on an employee plan and would have to return it if he quit within a year

but if he quit after a year he could keep only the left shoe. Sketchers was a tough company to work for, but he wanted shape-ups so bad. He needed buns of steel in order to

crack walnuts as effectively as his grandmother used to with hers. He'd already gotten the

firmness to bounce quarters off his buttocks, but he still lacked crack strength. Still he was feeling bubbly. He wouldn't need to take a powder. Boom Boom was his fight name.

After the introductions, the bell rang. Boom Boom and Bam Bam ran towards each other, each trying to draw first blood. They were locked in a scrum at the center of the ring, when

violent to resist the opportunity to bash some heads in. He managed to take out 15 knights and an errant peasant before finally being subdued by

7 flagons of the finest honeyed meade. The hangover, afterwards, encouraged him to raid Abbeys up the Northern coast of Ireland. The oars swung sure on the long boats.

Forced into the role of an alcoholic viking in order to delay both his headache and shame, the archbishop became known as the Rude Customer in villages that heard tell of his raids

and he was universally feared. Five years later, his headache abated, and he tried to return to his religious post, but the Pope surprisingly refused his application.