Help, I Am Caught In A Tree

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Strongside/Weakside: Jurgen Klinsmann

Despite leading the U.S. men’s national team through the so-called “Group of Death” in the 2014 World Cup, Jurgen Klinsmann has come under heavy criticism this week after his side finished fourth in the 2015 Gold Cup. Is he any good?

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Just Like Everything Else!: Fox 8 p.m. EDT/7 p.m. ABC Pete's wife is still on him about building that darn shed, these kids are going to be the death of Sheila and Dave, and the hot next-door neighbor is up in EVERYBODY'S business! Sunday nights on ABC couldn't be any more familiar!

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Help, I Am Caught In A Tree

Nurse, help! Help me! I am stuck at the top of a tree and cannot get down!

With the coming of the spring-time I yearned only to sit under my favorite chestnut tree for a spell. But as you may be aware, a court order has restricted me to my bed-chamber because of my tendency to make "trouble," as that bastard judge put it.

Imagine my joy, then, after I confided my simple desire to my loyal stable-boy Tom, who out of pity for his aged master devised a plan to get me outside.

The plan seemed simple enough. Every Tuesday is Wash-Day at the Zweibel Estate, and per a tradition begun by my grandfather, the master of the house inspects the soiled unmentionables of the servants before they are laundered.

This time, however, the laundry-cart Tom pushed into my bed-chamber was not a laundry-cart at all, but a wheel-chair artfully arranged with dirty undergarments. Tom removed the laundry, lifted me out of bed, strapped me into the wheel-chair, covered me with the filthy articles, and calmly wheeled me out of the room. The nurse didn't even raise an eyebrow, continuing to read from her silly ladies' romance gazette.

As Tom pushed me out into the court-yard and removed the undergarments, I felt sunlight on my withered face for the first time in 30 years. Tears streamed down the cracks in my cheeks as he triumphantly steered me to my favorite chestnut-tree.

Shortly, a dark shadow spread over us. Tom looked up, gasped and darted for the bushes. I barked angrily at him, disgusted at his apparent fear of a small cloud. Then I felt something grab hold of the back of my night-dress. Suddenly, I was lifted into the air, wheel-chair and all! It was my eagle, Caesar! Kept on my estate to swoop down on prowlers, he must have mistaken me for his breakfast. Miserable damn eagle!

Caesar bore me ever aloft, until I managed to shake off my catheter needle and plunge it into his belly. The winged bastard let out a horrid shriek and dropped me, and I plummeted 80 feet until my fall was broken by the branches of my favorite chestnut-tree, where I remain as of this writing.

Nurse, help me! Nurse!