Per the demand of Uke, I’ll start a new thread for the tale of our little bacchanal.
The story begins at a hotel bar on Lane Ave in Columbus, Ohio on a crisp autumn eve. The characters gathered to share stories of depravity and degeneracy. All were drawn by the common bond of desire for potent drink.
Those poor wretched souls in attendance encompass:
Melatonin, a lovely young lady who appeared shocked at the baseness of the rest of the group.
The Doll, the voluptuous siren and hair of solid gold.
Drain Bead, a charming vixen whose wit was only surpassed by her intellect.
Otis, a terribly intense buck with a smoldering visage, beau of The Doll.
Ranger Jeff, the eldest of the group who ruled with enlightenment and paternal wisdom.
Sucellus, acerbic, caustic mimicry of Bob Ross and longtime pal of UncleBeer.
UncleBeer, this oaf was relentless in an attempt to be the court jester, failing miserably.
We all met at the hotel tavern, UncleBeer and Sucellus were a bit tardy and the others were already in high spirits. We consumed several intoxicating beverages at the hotel bar and complained about the infestation of fruit flies. This is where the goats enter. I will let the others regale you with tails of the genus capra; the full story was divulged by a rude hotel manager only to the first arrivals. If memory serves, there was some sort of a goat fancier’s confab at the hotel the previous week. The only animals I recall clearly are the helper dogs for a convention of the visually impaired. Debates were fired by topics in a book called “Horrible Questions” or something like that. We all agreed we would stop short of digging up bodies and sucking out the bone marrow. Just about any act was fair game with the proper pecuniary encouragment.
From the hotel we left for dinner, intending to stop a bistro next door. Well, we didn’t make it to that particular place, but walked a bit further up High St to the Blue Danube, affectionately called, “The Dube.” Cocktails and dinner were consumed amongst a crush of college students. The restrooms of “The Dube” are of particular note. The ladies room is best described, as “pepto pink,” while the men’s room was a shocking blue. UncleBeer was considering a margarita until he saw that the salt used on them was the exact hue of the men’s room. After dinner the lovely Mel made her exit, showing far more sense than the rest of the troop. More drinks were served and consumed.
After taking several photos to memorialize the assembly, the remainder of the group strolled up the street. Sucellus made a quick stop at a carryout to get his fix of lip balm and caught up to the rest of us at the next corner. There a few more bid their adieu, Ranger Jeff, The Doll and Otis went their separate ways.
Drain Bead, Sucellus and UncleBeer continued on up the street for a nightcap of ale and greyhounds. We found ourselves in a quaint little hovel with an interactive trivia game in progress. Needless to say, we were victorious. After thrashing the opposition we made a quick and stealthy departure to escape the wrath of the vanquished.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Anyone who doubts me will blackmailed with the photographic evidence in my possesion.
The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.