The Pits of Freedom Saga: The First Solution

EDITOR'S NOTE: The "prescription" turned out to be "wear men's deodorant." The first prescription, that is. Read on...

SARAH: I'm in the deodorant aisle trying to pick out a boy deodorant.
KATE: That's awesome! You should get some Old Spice.
KATE: Then you'd no longer be sweaty.
KATE: You'd also be on a horse.
SARAH: This deodorant claims to smell like ice, wind, and freedom.
SARAH: How can something smell like ice?
SARAH: Wait a minute. Freedom?
KATE: Maybe it smells like free ice?



SARAH: I'm totally buying this.
SARAH: I'm going to have Ice Pits.

(Editor's Note) The Pits of Freedom Saga: Prologue

A few weeks ago, Sarah started sweating. Profusely. So much so that she was first embarrassed, then concerned. She asked her mother, who is a horrible person but also a nurse, what to do. Later that day, her mother sent her an e-mail that read, simply:

I have a prescription for your problem




This is the story of the Pits of Freedom.

Editor's Note: Corporate Underwriting

I'm beginning to think we could get Absolut to sponsor this blog.

Editor's Note: Turfucken.

We made up a new word. A disgruntled e-mail arrived and included the phrase "fucken politics." We decided that "fucken" was a combination of "fuck" and "chicken." We then decided that it was like a turducken, which is a duck inside a chicken inside a turkey. And then we invented "turfucken." And then we realized we needed to be able to use "turfucken" in a sentence, so here it is:

"Oh, I would, but I'm not up turfucken tonight."