Today I received one of the funniest emails I've gotten in a very long time. I laughed out loud several times. Now, most of my dear readers may not find any of these things funny for a couple of reasons. Those reasons are as follows:1) you never worked at HC and 2) you do not actually know the people I am talking about. But I can say with great ease that this group of folks are the only reason I maintained sanity while living in SoInd (that's my attempt to try to make Southern Indiana sound cooler like SoCal only it's not quite as catchy sounding).
Nota bene: To keep the anonymity of all persons involved, I am using what are commonly known as the porn names of my pals (i.e. Childhood Animal + Street you grew up on) with a few exceptions.
And now on to the show.
Cheap Beer: A farce in five acts.
Setting: The Broadway on a cold Wednesday night. The rag tag team of scholars and collegiate workers sit in plastic chairs in front of a "fireplace" drinking many a beer. Many, many a beer. Although, I understand that
Rico Suave did not drink enough to cover the drinking habits of himself, myself, and
Poochie Goldenrod as he s
pecifically agreed to do. Punishments will abound for this lax treatment of alcohol. Possibly food was eaten but not near enough to soak up the beer. And really, that's the way it should be.
Act One:
Rico Suave stands in the lobby of the Broadway awaiting a table. Another couple comes in and sees a brown man. He must work here and not actually be a professor. Couple: IS THERE A TABLE AVAILABLE, HISPANIC, ILLEGAL IMMIGRANT MAN?
Rico: Que?
Act Two:
As our rag tag team sits down,
Salty and Smoky Nuts is trying to decide if he should take his nuts to his mother's home so they can be enjoyed over a rousing game of football.
Deucey Idlewild, well known for only half listening to
Salty and Smoky Nuts, asks if his nuts are Salty or Smoky. An innocent question for sure, until
Butterscotch West gets involved.
Butterscotch inquires, "wouldn't you be the best judge of that,
Deucey?"
Butterscotch is alluding to the former relations had between
Salty and
Deucey. Does
Deucey ever get an answer? Will
Deucey beat down
Butterscotch? Tune in next week.
Act Three:
As it goes with beer drinking the conversation tends to get out of hand. Someone, probably
Yukon Locust, calls for a song.
Butterscotch and
Snoopy Missionwood can not let this challenge go. As if they had been practicing for weeks, they begin belting out the chorus to the old standard
"Dick in a Box." Butterscotch and
Snoopy remind us how one gets their dick in a box with this, "One: You cut a hole in a box. Two: You put your junk in that box. Three: You let her open that box. And that's the way you do it." Soon after
Salty and Smoky Nuts asks for pen and paper to write down these instructions.
Act Four:
Yukon has gone home to take care of his child,
Madison the Second. But never fear because
Rosey Goldenrod swoops in to take his place. Someone asks innocently, "why does Bovine Jaw not let his employees have family pictures on their desks?"
Rosey Goldenrod replies (rather smartly I might add), "who knows? Bovine Jaw does like to swing his miniature p***s around." To which I say, brava.
Act Five:
Poochie Goldenrod, well known for her penchant to move houses on average of once a year or so, has decided that the
Goldenrod family will once again be moving.
Poochie recreates the scenario where she tells her mother-in-law about the move.
Poochie: Guess what? We are moving again. Isn't that great? Not as great as my ta-tas but great none-the-less?
MIL: Are you trying to kill my son?
Poochie: Yes, but only in the bedroom with my inner thighs.
Round One goes to
Poochie and her ta-tas.
Finale:
The rag tag team of scholars and collegiate workers stumble back to their homes. It's a good thing the
Goldenrod's are related to the town po-po.
HC folks, I miss you all.
ETA: Sorry for the Deucey misspellings.
You know, I really, really hate pictures of myself. I don't know why that is. However, I happen to love this picture here on the left. Maybe it's because my face is obscured by Biz cup drinking. God, I miss playing Sink the Biz. But mostly I think because the look on my face says, "Bill, I am going to frakkin' punch you." I was asking Bill if he knew where to find this picture recently and at the time he couldn't recall. It looks like he delivered. 
