Forget water balloons… fill 'em with pudding. It’s messier!!
strolls into the yard…
Hey Mr C. Your neighbour looks pissed, he was muttering something about his cat…
Think I will open up the lawn chair right here, I’ve got some 2-4’s of Labatts in the back of the van in case we start to run low on beer.
Where should we build the firepit? This looks like it could go on all night and a little fire would be nice…
::pulls up a lawn chair, a cooler, and a box of cigars::
I’ve been planning on trying this Sam Adams Triple Bock. 17.5% alcohol by volume, this should be interesting.
Anyone want a ceegar?
…volunteers to mix up a BIG batch o’ puddin’… but how do we get it into the balloons?
::Athena drives up in her oh-so-cool convertible, wearing her nifty Left Hand Brewery cap (tan, with large red Left Hand symbol) and carrying several bombers of Tabernash Wheat::
“Who wants some REAL beer?!? Hey, Cyn-Man, move over and give a girl a chair.” (hopes she gets to drink it all herself, but wants to be polite)
Good question. Rachelle? A little help here please.
<And watch out for Athena. I’m not sure whether she actually wants to join those beer guzzling, nut scratching lawn ornaments or whether she’s spying for us.>
Damn smilies!
And it looks like I lost the pool on CD milk, too. But who won it?
Looks like a whole herd of trolls showing up in the pit today.
::puffs on an Excalibur #3 maduro::
Well…you could use a turkey baster until something better comes along. Just an idea.
Hey Mr. C –
Nice yard ya got here. I brought this cooler of the midwest’s finest to pass around. Careful there, it’s heavy. New Glarus Spotted Cow. Good for what ails you. I’ll swap you a bottle for a Fat Tire.
Now, what are we watching? Nothing yet, hmmm. Doesn’t matter to me. Got my lawnchair and some beer, I’ll be happy watching the grass grow. Hey 2nd Law – I’ll give you a shiny nickel if you slam one of those triple bocks.
Keep on the lookout, guys. I saw some hot babes driving around with a trunk full of baloons.
:Silo pulls up couch:
:Silo produces a loaded bong:
“So who wants to get high?” :puff :puff
:: Demo crashes through the gate, red-eyed, scratching his ass, wearing ripped up shorts, a dirty, funky, wrinkled baseball cap and a faded Beastie Boys shirt with a huge wine stain down the front and a shit-looking stain on the back, toting a rolling cooler with a pony keg of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale in it and the tap fastened to his shoulder a la CamelBack style ::
BURP! Whassup guys? Sorry I’m late. Some crazy women almost ran me over out front! Then they threw something that hit me in the back. Hope it’s not shit. :: Tastes it :: Mmm, nope, not shit. Hey, could someone grab that vat of hot wings from my trunk?
::Using a cake decorator bag filled with pudding, Rachelle starts filling balloons::
When we get done with the pudding balloons why don’t we get some super soaker guns and have a little drive by shooting! Maybe we’ll throw a couple of stink bombs in the yard too.
Well, on second thought, scratch the stink bomb idea. Give them a couple hours of drinking beer and baking in the sun and they’ll stink up the yard all by themselves.
Hey, what up?
enters, wearing one his favorite swing-daddy crazy coo-coo hepcat lounge shirts dragging his well-used lawn chair and several sixes of Rappahannock Red in a cooler behind him
Beer trading will now begin, strictly one-to-one. Got plenty of Red to go around, make me an offer.
Demo, what the fuck is that crap you got all over the back of your shirt?! Looks like someone with a serious lung infection projectile vomited all over you. Or has that got something to do with that pickup truck fulla women peeling out of the driveway?
Silo, you keep that thing loaded, I can keep you in a supply of beer 'til I’m traded out or the supply runs out. You up?
So anyway, girls, mebbe we can park across the street and blast some really neato boy-band music at 'em… Or is that going too far? I mean, fun’s fun and torture’s torture, but is NSYNC cruel and unusual punishment, even for THIS group??
GOOD SHOT FairyChatMom!
What? Rachelle hasn’t given you the pudding-filled balloons yet? What’s that brown stuff all over Demo’s back . . .
Eeewwww
Mr. C, I envy you, i can only get Fat Tire once a year, and that’s when I’m out West skiing. That being the case, I’ll pull up my beanbag and cooler.
What’s in the cooler you ask? A little something called rum. And lots of it. Ever tried Stroh? It kicks the shit out of Capt. Morgan (and I like the Capt.), course, it’s 160 proof, too.
Gather 'round, boys, I’m fixing drinks.
Oh, and tech…no more farting unless you light it.
<waves a Zippo and smiles>
I certainly hope you’re not accusing me of wasting perfectly good chocolate on…
OOOOOOOOOH! You don’t mean… eeeesh…
HOLD EVERYTHING GIRLS! They have Captain Morgan. We need to change our strategy. Put on your slinky dresses and stiletto heels.
<batting eyelashes> Hi boys. Buy a girl a drink?
Huh? What am I holding behind my back? Nothing <snicker>
<PuFF, PuFF>
Yeah dude!
…ummm, what were you sayin’??..
Oh yeah!
First things first <laughing at the silly women trying to walk across the grass in stiletto heels>: What do ya got to trade?
Next: Nothing to trade you say? Well then, you’d better re-think your wardrobe a bit, hon. I hate the guy that sings it, but I think it’s time you show us your thong tha-thong-thong-thong.
<notices the batting eyelashes> Um, well, maybe just one drink.
<aside> Hey, who’s got the rooffies? 