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¨It smells fine!¨ shouted Martha from atop the porta-potty. The sulfurous vapors emanating from within suggested otherwise.
Miffed at Sean's skepticism, Martha proceeded to bend over into the vent to get a deeper whiff.
Faint from the horrendous smell, Martha was quickly carried away. Her benefactor's chivalrous efforts beckoned swift imitation as Sean gleefully hoisted up a joyful Anagha, who clearly required no such assistance.
Martha awoke groggily to the feel of Andrew's hand massaging her belly. A grin rose to her lips. ¨For three beers, you can touch my boobs!¨ she intoned suggestively, motioning towards her oddly exposed bra.
When Andrew reluctantly refused, citing brotherhood reasons, Martha decided she'd had enough of this shit. ¨Let me thrust my boobs at this boy directly,¨ she told herself, following word with action.
When Sean arrived to defend his mate, Martha was not deterred, launching instantaneously into her Karate chop mode. Sean's family jewels dangled precariously in the balance.
Devil-eyed foot-stepping moves were soon afoot.
Meanwhile, felicitously rescued from the clenches of a ruthless Southern Belle, a behooded Andrew was much relieved at last to feel a stone horse poking him up the rear.
Victorious after a grueling fight, Martha collapsed with sheer joy atop the stone horse, imbibing residual sulfurous fumes. Violeta, herself newly intoxicated with them, could scarcely contain herself while Anagha and Aldo laughed inexplicably.
It wasn't long until the bannister-like sliding potentials of said horse became evident to our wayward travelers. Delightful possibilities were imagined.
But alas, lamer realities followed as Aldo beckoned the girls to perform a bra-accented, tentacled cabaret.
Surely this position can't be as enjoyable as Aldo's expression suggests.
"Stop here, driver! Jolly rancher needs to buy more jolly ranchers!"
But whoa hey, molly! Cool your trousers, for ´tis none other but Andrew, aka Vanilla ICE, here to pleasure you for the night.
¨Yes please!¨ exclaimed Catherine delightedly, as a narcissistically hawt Andrew obliviously vamped on.
"No Andrew, you hold his head thus and stroke it just so."
"Thank you girls, but really, you needn't have".
"Uhhh... can we have our bras back, please?"
SCD HW April 18
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