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Out of context: Reply #37570
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I'm no kingjulien, but after receiving this link in an e-mail:
http://maps.google.com/maps?oe=U…
I decided to recite a tale 5 years old for a group of my friends, as we ... well ... have a huge e-mail chain we keep with each other.
I will start with an ending ...
Unapologetically yours,
Jerome
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Ah yes, a short walk from my place where kids enact the tale I tell of when the man simply known as "Petro" came from Boozeland and slayed Lazarus the Lame.The legend goes after a heavy morning/ afternoon of drinking - the Boozehounds from Boozeland came across the Schenley Man-Virgins. Upon arrival and surveying the land, the Boozehounds set up camp at the strategic highland; far from sight of the road with "moving machines" and able to see across the field easily for what locals called "Johnny Law." The Boozehounds decided to celebrate certain victory before battle by imbibing in handles upon handles of vodka, multitudes of cases, and only the finest of pre-packaged frozen cow patties. Their mighty solo mugs were never empty as their wenches continued to travel at great length to provide them with limitless libation.
After much discussion, it was decided to first embark on sport, where upon the Boozehounds commandeered the swingset and thusly set new records for highest point of jump off, as well as distance propulsion. It was at this time Craigory the Cuddler was sent on reconnaissance to spy on the Schenley Man-Virgins. Master of disguise, he pranced about free of suspicion - shirtless, and in daisy dukes so short the pockets poked out below the cut. Bringing back vital information as to the Man-Virgins capabilities, and vulnerabilities. The time to strike was upon us.
Rattley the Relentless was sent bearing the Boozehound flag, which, is not so much a flag as it is a state of being ... a stumbling drunk whose eyes say yes and body screams it even moreso. The tales of the Boozehounds have traveled for and wide, however, the Man-Virgins saw before them a cackle of cackles, a gang of gone-wrongs, a hapless sap of hopelessness. Ah yes, the ruse was planted with ease.
The battle begin quickly when the Boozehounds lost one of their own. Jerome the Vain was first gone from battle with a self-inflicted wound. "I don't want to fuck up my shoes." was his cry as he bravely committed seppuku. The Man-Virgins sensed the tide turning even more in their favour. However, the Boozehounds nay blinked an eyelash. Jerome the Vain would not die in such a manner as his name suggested. Timothy the Tea-Bagger screamed a battle-cry to enthuse the men and battle continued.
Man-Virgins fell, as did Boozehound, until there were only two left from each camp. Petro was left alone on the battlefield for the Boozehounds. His fallen comrades circled chanting his name. For the Man-Virgins, Lazarus wielded a sword style unseen by the Boozehounds, with dexterity and passion - he would not go down without a fight. No. He would go on the offensive.
The final battle proved most brilliant. The ruse planted by the Boozehounds was still intact. Lazarus filled with hubris and failing to realize he was the last Man-Virgin, came at Petro similar to a dingo on an unsuspecting baby. But baby, our baby, Petro ... was suspecting, and he hated dingos. Falling to one knee to protect himself from a violent swing which would have meant certain death, Petro dealt the fatal blow.
Flabbergasted, Lazarus with his waning breaths cursed his camp, yelling, "We can never show our faces here again." and "We are broken up" to the Mistress of the Man-Virgins.
The Boozehounds took the victory like they always did, as news of such also traveled far and wide. Staking claim to the land of the Man-Virgins they continued their game of drink and when night befell them, they took on parade. On foot they moved across scores of land, across valleys and under metal birds. They arrived at an outside establishment awaiting their arrival with tables for them to celebrate victory. It was there they were met with Bayo the Black, and Emily the Underager.
Despite not joining the Boozehounds in battle, nor on their excursion of drink and parade. Bayo would fall akin as the Man-Virgins did earlier. Timothy the Tea-Bagger would put sticks of fire in his mouth while the Boozehounds waited with anticipation for hilarousness to ensue. And it did. To commemorate the occasion, the bar maids brought out markers for the Boozehounds to record their victories on the faces of those who passed out. Some shoulder companions, others complete strangers.
After the hour had passed, the establishment drunk of all it could serve, and with celebration complete, the Boozehounds set forth for home base a mere 15 hours after initially setting out for conquest. The one thing the Boozehounds had neglected to remember the entire day was that half of their force had school in the early morning, while the other half had work.
And that ... my children ... is but one tale of the mighty Boozehounds. The tale of when Petro slayed Lazarus.
- oh I hope it's another drinking tale where you do something wacky, but reveal an interesting vulnerability in your personality********
- oh I hope it's another drinking tale where you do something wacky, but reveal an interesting vulnerability in your personality