Please help me!

I'm totally a sick man! I love the 50 Yard Indoor War that if I don't get to see a Crush game from the floor I might stop going to work.

Yep, you guys heard me right - I'll boycott my job if you don't give up the dang tickets.

That's right I'll stop going to work - hence I'll get fired.

Then my bills will start stacking up.

My wife won't be able to afford to get the dogs groomed so they'll be all knotted and nasty.

I'll pouch out on the coach everyday brewing about you guys as I sit there gaining pound after pound while watching an endless number of Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes - I'll even watch the ones that feature the damn holodeck as a central plot mechanism - Lt. Worf in a cowboy hat anyone?!

We'll have to start dressing my two year old in those plastic sacks from the grocery store - and I'll stop mowing my yard.

The neighbors will start smelling an unsettling aroma coming from the side of my house - after all taking out the trash and paying the garbage men is for you snooty employed types.

The city will naturally turn off my water and while at this point my wife will have escaped with my son to live at her mother's house I on the other hand wont be above streaking into my next door neighbor's lawn in the early twilight hours to wash off a weeks worth of body odor mixed with Totino's Party Pizza and Pringles crumbs.

The shock of seeing me in the nude bathing on her front porch with her hose might send my neighbor into a cardiac arrest. She's not as young as she used to be and let's face it - my fruit basket pressed up against her front window as I trim my toe nails won't be a pretty site!

It'll be inevitable - I'll eventually lose my house.

So there I'll be - Fat, and homeless - covered in the smell of beer and Party Pizzas, wandering the outside of Pepsi Center before the Crush game with nothing but a full beard and my Crush shirt to show for my miserable existence.

You'll look at me and say - Hey Santa Crush what the hell are you doing? And where's your pants?

I'll just reply - Sorry wrong fat guy - now how 'bout those tickets on the floor and a bologna sandwich please?