Tysdal and the Triscuit Factory

Once upon a time there was a young boy named Tysdal. Tysdal was very popular while he marched in Phantom Regiment for 5 years. He was talented, funny, from South Dakota and had a problem with certain words. Not problems such as you and I have. You know, remembering certain ones, how to spell them, and using words that would kill your mom if she heard them. We all need to work on that.

No, Tysdal's problem was that he kinda slurred some words. Not really a lisp but more of a slur. It wasn't a Texas drawl either. Remember Tysdal was from N.D., far from Texas, however weird they both may be.

Tysdal's friends were really good friends especially his Drum Corps friends. He always had someone to sit with at meal times. He was never laughed at when he played the wrong notes. No, his friends were true friends. And what made them even more special to him was they never made fun of his slurred problem. They spoke to him like there was nothing wrong, until one late night on the bus.

It was dark and his friends were sleeping. Everyone worked so hard that day so they deserved the rest. Tysdal was hungry and decided to have a snack. Being a good friend he thought he'd offer it to all of his friends. "Hey, does anyone want a trishkit? A trishkit, does anyone want one?" But to his surprise no one responded and so he asked his sleeping friends again a little louder this time, "Does anyone want a trishkit?" "SHUT THE F*** UP! NO ONE WANTS A F****** TRISCUIT," a sleeping friend yelled. Tysdal was a little shocked by this comment. Here he was being generous and giving and no one appreciated it.

But it did not get Tysdal down. He stuck with his friends and his friends stuck with him. However, things changed a little bit. They started to make fun of his slurred handicap, but they were still good friends. And he knew that friendship was more important than a trishkit.