This isn't Phil. I know that this website is called just Phil, but that was basically a lie to get you to this web log (commonly referred to as "blog.") In fact, this is Phil's best friend and mentor Boyd. (some have also call me Phil's Lord and Master, but I defer to Jesus on those titles.)
Phil has recently been writing a number of stories about Ed Johnson, a childhood friend of ours. We both have a love and sort of retarded respect for Ed that has been born of going through thick and (mostly) thin with him for 10 or so years. We were there when Ed tried to convince us that soccer doesn't suck, we were there when Ed rocked a bolo tie at church, and we were there when Ed would come over and play Christifori's Dream on the piano ad naseum until you wanted to shoot yourself in the face with a 12 gauge shotgun. But there was a time when we weren't there for Ed. And that, my friends, was when Ed Johnson's Debacle occur ed.
Ed had secretly been wooing the niece of our high school choir teacher. Un
beknownst to his closest of friends, Ed had been to third base and back with this girl. If he just would have told us, just would have counselled with us, we would have told him to stop there. This girl was not attractive at all, nor was she cool. But Ed was lonely. Could you blame him? Yes. You could and did. Well, you can probably see where this story eventually ended: In the back seat of a 1972 Volkswagen Beetle. That night, Ed made a debacle. And his debacle was boning that ugly chick.
beknownst to his closest of friends, Ed had been to third base and back with this girl. If he just would have told us, just would have counselled with us, we would have told him to stop there. This girl was not attractive at all, nor was she cool. But Ed was lonely. Could you blame him? Yes. You could and did. Well, you can probably see where this story eventually ended: In the back seat of a 1972 Volkswagen Beetle. That night, Ed made a debacle. And his debacle was boning that ugly chick. I won't go into the sordid details of what happened that night, nor where Ed's ejaculate ended up, but I will discuss the aftermath of his actions. For a while, none of us believed Ed when he told us that he had taken this most unfortunate of steps, but then, rumors from the girls camp started to be heard. See, that girl was spreading rumors about Ed's junk around the school, saying that it was small. Having seen Ed's junk in the shower at various Scout camps, I could dispel any of those rumors and am here to say once and for all that Edwin Johnson has a perfectly nice sized brat and potatoes. Shame on that girl if it cost Edwin any chances at better girls in the future!
Ed was ashamed of himself on many levels, including morally, but at least he had horrible friends like Phil, Derek, and me to remind him of his mistake. Indeed, we named two fairly mediocre intramural Basketball and Softball teams at Snow College in his memory: Ed Johnson's Debacle. We were just as poor on the court as Ed was in the back seat of that old VW. When Ed came to Snow to visit us, he was apoplectic with rage to find that we would name an intramural team thus, but in common Ed fashion, he good naturedly forgave us and saw the jacked-up humor in what we had done. Ed's a good guy that way.
Years have passed and I rarely see Ed anymore, but if I did, I would put my arm around him and thank him for all of the laughs over the years. Then, I would apologize for making him the butt of so many of those laughs. With this story, I believe Phil will retire the "Ed Johnson" theme and move on to another crazy in his past. It's probably time. So Ed, if you ever find this site, know that it was all done in love and for a laugh, and that any mean-spiritedness was done out of my own immaturity. God Bless you, Ed. You are an Icon.
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