Acts of Eccetrifugalism
When it seemed as if my life could not be filled with more things to look forward to, there came Clay with an irresistible invitation. According to he and Nick’s plan, we (the two, plus Zac and I) were supposed to hang out and play Dungeons & Dragons for three hours, then call it a night. However, it didn’t quite happen that way. Our corporal strings came undone before there was a chance for settlement. Something in our chemistry didn’t allow such an idealistic arrangement to turn out. An afternoon of slaying kobolds and casting spells was not for us beacons of eccentrifugal forz; we needed higher gratification.
Thanks to our low attention spans we weren’t only incapable of finishing a game of D&D, we failed to begin one. Imagine us four circled around a disassembled dungeon, already overstimulated and aggressive due to a heroic dose of refined sugar. I couldn’t focus long enough to read the Dungeon Master’s guide, meanwhile narrate an epic quest for the Baron’s ring. Anxiety came over me - not the suffocating feeling this time, but rather a surreal kind of fretfulness. It may have been the surroundings that did it: Clay’s modern, well-furnished home made me feel out of place and undeserving. Everything was dreamy, yet abrupt.
Our first forz was a tad malicious, even inane if you wish. Nick, Zac, and I followed our dinh out to the yard to observe a dead mole. You know, one of those fuzzy things that dig holes in your yard. This one was past the stage of rigor mortis, having been baking in the sun for a bit, but fresh enough to entertain us. Nick directed us (Clay wanted nothing to do with it) to tie Moley to a string and fasten his squishy body to a tree. We found great amusement in adorning him with the Goon’s hat and an electric guitar. Only when Moley’s brains were spilled out and his little mole hands melted, did we lose interest.
We’re terrible people sometimes -- a bunch of crazy-ass kids, I know. At least we carry our unwise deeds in style. After washing the sin from our wretched hands, we listened to David Bowie and played Star Wars themed Monopoly. Don’t think for a moment that our tet would follow convention. Our version of Monopoly insisted the use of fuckwords (“Roll the dice, CUNT”) and the neglect of positions. I re-call Alanna and her friends passing the time with board games; however, I’m sure this was not at all like what she’s used to. I also need to note that I felt amazingly comfortable around the guys. Maybe it was because I was so sidetracked. Never the less, I felt they were more accepting than usual.
Eventually we were up and out of the house and on our way to Myakka River, where Clay once rescued a bus full of limbless acrobats. There are only so many things you can do in a suburban Floridian neighborhood, we discovered shortly. I mean, things that don’t include heckling on corners and punching strangers in the face. We just had the river, hay, trees, a septic pit, maybe some rocks. You can bet we made the best of it. Wrestling matches took place as well as a dramatic re-enactment of “Where the Wild Roses Grow”. It was barely 5:00; our final pursuit for excitement was on the rise.
To save you the messy detail, basically, we ran into the woods and beat each other with sticks. Because we were still tweaking, chaos acted as our release. Think of a couple reckless teenagers in a grove of deadwood, smacking each other in the knuckles (or the neck, in my case) with loose branches. It was pretty wild, so I doubt I could have participated if I were sober. Speaking of which, my memory of this event is a bit hazy so I couldn’t tell you what my motives were. All I remember is the feeling of invincibility when darting through the brush, and pure nostalgia rolling into the bank. In the end, I was the one soaked in mud with grass sticking to me knickers. Must've looked ridiculous.
Before Valerie came to pick up Zac and I, we hung out in Clay's cozy little room. We had time to watch an episode of "Peewee's Playhouse", something I haven't seen for ages. I was feeling terribly drained, but I made sure to yodel the magic word and keep my eyes open for most of it. Zac didn't stick around like I hoped he would. He got a headache, so now he's home resting I assume. My thoughts are still occupied with everything that happened today, although there are still a couple more waking hours to go. I just had such a good time, no matter how manic it was. Like the guys noted, we should have get-togethers weekly at least. Next time, however, it may not be the best idea to have Peeps around.
Thanks to our low attention spans we weren’t only incapable of finishing a game of D&D, we failed to begin one. Imagine us four circled around a disassembled dungeon, already overstimulated and aggressive due to a heroic dose of refined sugar. I couldn’t focus long enough to read the Dungeon Master’s guide, meanwhile narrate an epic quest for the Baron’s ring. Anxiety came over me - not the suffocating feeling this time, but rather a surreal kind of fretfulness. It may have been the surroundings that did it: Clay’s modern, well-furnished home made me feel out of place and undeserving. Everything was dreamy, yet abrupt.
Our first forz was a tad malicious, even inane if you wish. Nick, Zac, and I followed our dinh out to the yard to observe a dead mole. You know, one of those fuzzy things that dig holes in your yard. This one was past the stage of rigor mortis, having been baking in the sun for a bit, but fresh enough to entertain us. Nick directed us (Clay wanted nothing to do with it) to tie Moley to a string and fasten his squishy body to a tree. We found great amusement in adorning him with the Goon’s hat and an electric guitar. Only when Moley’s brains were spilled out and his little mole hands melted, did we lose interest.
We’re terrible people sometimes -- a bunch of crazy-ass kids, I know. At least we carry our unwise deeds in style. After washing the sin from our wretched hands, we listened to David Bowie and played Star Wars themed Monopoly. Don’t think for a moment that our tet would follow convention. Our version of Monopoly insisted the use of fuckwords (“Roll the dice, CUNT”) and the neglect of positions. I re-call Alanna and her friends passing the time with board games; however, I’m sure this was not at all like what she’s used to. I also need to note that I felt amazingly comfortable around the guys. Maybe it was because I was so sidetracked. Never the less, I felt they were more accepting than usual.
Eventually we were up and out of the house and on our way to Myakka River, where Clay once rescued a bus full of limbless acrobats. There are only so many things you can do in a suburban Floridian neighborhood, we discovered shortly. I mean, things that don’t include heckling on corners and punching strangers in the face. We just had the river, hay, trees, a septic pit, maybe some rocks. You can bet we made the best of it. Wrestling matches took place as well as a dramatic re-enactment of “Where the Wild Roses Grow”. It was barely 5:00; our final pursuit for excitement was on the rise.
To save you the messy detail, basically, we ran into the woods and beat each other with sticks. Because we were still tweaking, chaos acted as our release. Think of a couple reckless teenagers in a grove of deadwood, smacking each other in the knuckles (or the neck, in my case) with loose branches. It was pretty wild, so I doubt I could have participated if I were sober. Speaking of which, my memory of this event is a bit hazy so I couldn’t tell you what my motives were. All I remember is the feeling of invincibility when darting through the brush, and pure nostalgia rolling into the bank. In the end, I was the one soaked in mud with grass sticking to me knickers. Must've looked ridiculous.
Before Valerie came to pick up Zac and I, we hung out in Clay's cozy little room. We had time to watch an episode of "Peewee's Playhouse", something I haven't seen for ages. I was feeling terribly drained, but I made sure to yodel the magic word and keep my eyes open for most of it. Zac didn't stick around like I hoped he would. He got a headache, so now he's home resting I assume. My thoughts are still occupied with everything that happened today, although there are still a couple more waking hours to go. I just had such a good time, no matter how manic it was. Like the guys noted, we should have get-togethers weekly at least. Next time, however, it may not be the best idea to have Peeps around.