Being comprised of one single beauty & one married beast offers Peonage Local no. 13 ample opportunity to constructively gloss the richly disturbing psychoses of relationshippery & lo, yester noon, I queried the female half, who had just suffered through a typically weak attempt at patron-employee winking nudgery, if the successful pickup line exists only in a world of make-believe with flowers & bells & leprechauns & magic frogs with funny little hats.
With the Duchess slipping into deep contemplation, or eye-rolling, I'm still not sure which, the Earl proffered, as an illustration of said query, an example of testosterone's proclivity towards the visual, presented to the gentle reader in a one-act-play, which was the style at the time:
Through a smoky Marlboro haze, METAL DORK sees METAL CHICK sporting a Slayer tee, and though low on wily charm like all dorks, metal or otherwise, has imbibed just enough beer to approach Marshall stack romancing with cautionary caution.
[REDACTED]
Needless to say, the humor inherent in absentmindedly choosing Raining Blood as the answer to a fumbled question, an unintentional allusion to menstruation quickly interpreted as such by the sharper (or more straunge, I'm still not sure which) half of the Peonage, & the subsequent face punching, was lost in translation.
[ed. note 1: okay, maybe it was only funny to us]
[ed. note 2: I wasn't actually punched in the face, just METAL DORK]
[ed. note 3: in order to rescue this failure -- to you 'cause we chortled & wheezed all shift though it's possible the Kynge's Brewe was spiked or there was a lack of oxygen -- of a post, here's the usual imitation photo essay]
Practicing his pickup lines.
Relax. My bottle has a cap.
Bunker mentality.
Yet another abandoned storefront.
Has it on tape.
What happens in the sewing shop stays in the sewing shop.
Rainbow connection.
The Boehner is all the rage on campus these days.
You can't get high off that. Trust me.
Bummed, because this was much more neon to the naked eye.
Of course I have spirits piped directly to the Batcave. Connections, baby.
The Towering Slab's seedy underbelly.
15 comments:
Through a smoky Marlboro haze, METAL DORK sees METAL CHICK sporting a Slayer tee...
Nice start, but the rest of your slash fiction needs some work.
~
I don't see anything about a top hat, do you?
...the subsequent face punching, was lost in translation.
I feel the pain, been there, had it done to me, and not only do I have the t-shirt but the accompanying polo shirt as well.
Now that's coming back to the Graves of old but please limit the graphics to one or two. National Geographic doesn't pay by the pound you know.
Tee shirt, polo shirt? No it was the Bass Weejuns that was the give away Bum. And don't tell me you had the pennys inserted either.
Now that's what I call Romancing the Stone!
BB, punched in the face and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.
demeur, Graves of old? You make it sound like I'm entirely predictable.
Yeah, that's fair.
karl of the österreich, Danny DeVito would have made a cameo, but I wasn't paying his outrageous fee.
It sounds as if pick up lines haven't gained much sophistication.
Okay so should we call you the Spanish Inquisition? Because you know nobody suspects the Spanish Inquisition.
susan, it is comical to watch. Though maybe not for the ladies, if it's extra creepy.
demeur, that's great, but what am I supposed to do with this dead parrot?
It is comical in its terribleness, especially after the fact over a cup of coffee with one's friends (male or female I guess). Once it gets stalkery though, not so much.
Good thing Mugs of Madness™ are as hefty as a registered weapon. Clock someone's tower they will.
Must be somebody's anniversary!
Dead parrot? He's not dead he's just pinein for the fiord's.
I'll say it again: this stuff actually makes me miss Cleveland. Which probably says more about me than the pictures.
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