Jesus Christ! Point Fermin Park was bursting with holiday merriment today in a veritable celebration of inebriation for the virgin birth we’ve all been waiting for since 0000 B.C. That’s right, the core crew from the G.S. got our groovin’ Booty Call Butts out on the lawn and jumped into a gnarly game of Poison. Please be aware, this is a far more vicious version of pedestrian Croquet, maybe not for all you thumb-suckers out there. In rare attendance were the usual suspects…I know that doesn’t make any sense but I like the sound of it….The ridiculous Laskey Brute Brothers: Adam & Chris, Danny “The Dandy”, Max “Worldwide” Webb, DJ G-Spot, “Tall” Nick, Jenny “Punkin’ Butter” D. and yours truly. Not one of the aforementioned had ever held a mallet in their girly little mitts, yet after much tutelage from their coach (me) regarding the finer points of the game, all of which were immediately discarded, the wicked battle ensued. Three bottles of wine and several fried chickens later, Max had achieved the dubious and soon to be revealed, appropriate distinction of “POISON”…which means that if he touches anyone’s balls with his own, they’re dead, out of the game…but I’ve only got to hope that you would have known that already. Sadly but not so shocking, the first to go down to Max’s tireless wrath was DJ G-Spot. Not living up to his name nor his game due to an extended previous all-night frivolity and morning Pub Crawl, it was more a case of euthanasia on Max’s part, to single him out and send him to the loser’s drinking blanket early. An almost sad yet apropos development indeed. Soon and quite remarkably, “Dandy” makes it past Max’s horrifying minefield of imminent death back to the safety of the home wicket, claiming victory as the winner of the match. Everyone else falls prey in a merciless succession of Max’s spherical ricochets of expulsion save for our hero, Adam with the aid of Super Coach and newly appointed Good Witch Of The West, aka Punkin’ Butter, who managed to steer him to whack his ball through a series of imaginary flaming hoops of actual fiery flaming fire that threatened him at every turn while being chased by Mad Max. Adam finished the contest in a not so unusual for him, “sloppy seconds”-style second place. It was incredible! The guy’s as hapless as a blind salamander who’s volunteered to take a ride on a rotating Barbeque Spit. He can read and write but in his own words knows “nothing about math or physics”. You know, like holding a wooden mallet and projecting a theoretical straight line so as to send a croquet ball in a rolling trajectory that doesn’t resemble a dog’s fucking hind leg. So, once again, a synopsis of the finish line…First Place (with honors) Danny. Hell yeah! Now where’s my drum-head? In a “Special Mention” Special Olympics kind of way Second Place, the guy that I lost money on by betting against him not lasting more than thirty seconds without crying about the injustice of the game, Adam. You Kill Bro! Lastly, “Worldwide” with a pretty tight performance as POISON in Third Place. You ain’t so bad neither! Good Job to all who dared! It was an amazing and inspired tournament throughout the afternoon. We rounded out the day by eating cookies and sipping what dribbled from the empty wine bottles and talking hilarious shit about lost “loves” and maligned interpersonal relationships manifested in endless wild gesticulation, followed up by falling over dead in the grass as evidenced by the portrait of Chris, (scroll back up) sleeping with drink and smoldering cigarette in hand, dreaming away in everyone’s familiar, favourite, frustrating and pointless “Where did I go wrong?” mode. Sorry about the lack of pictures of the actual Croquet Game but believe me, we’re all very happy to still be alive. See y’all next year!
The last photo is of six foot six newcomer and non-litterbug “Tall” Nick sporting his totally radical nimbus.
MERRY NIMBUS DAWG!!!!!!