Ren Faire: Episode VI

This weekend, as I frolicked with Ewoks on the forest moon of Endor (they are so cute don’t you think? “Eechi wa-wa!”), I was able to explore my feminine side by… SHOPPING! I spent far more money than I should and now have this sort of cool looking fancy getup that makes me look like a clown. Well not quite a clown, but it is loud enough to shake the leaves off of nearby trees. You know those strips that people wear over their pants that hang down? They are called slops! That’s right, I have slops! Let’s get sloppy!

Did a bit more fencing this time around as there were less fencers working. I am sure this will become the norm. At once point I found out that not eating and fencing all day can cause a somewhat dim feeling. Almost a faint feeling if you will. I will endeavor to not let it happen again because it was really harshing my buzz.

The evening festivities included a great dinner of pork loin, followed by a hippy fashion show that we decided to skip. There are only so many ways to wear hemp after all. We strolled into the main court and challenged some people to some liar’s dice. This is a wonderful game if you have not tried it. It’s what they were playing in the second Pirate of the Caribbean movie. I would have to say it is less fun when certain factors of the game are uneven. Perhaps it was the playing surface or the light but there seemed to be a lot of fives on the table.

At this point reality hits home when all my friends go to bed because they are pansies. Soon they will be asking me to prepare them small glasses of warm milk to settle their delicate constitution. My goal this coming weekend will be to install remote controlled electric shock devices inside of their buttocks to keep them from nodding off.

So there I was, alone in the battlefield; just me and Charlie, my trusty flask and three shots to my name. I low crawled through the streets until I happened upon a canteena. The barman looked at me with a wary eye and said, “Try this!” I took what he proffered without breaking eye contact, letting him see the whites of my eyes. I tossed back the liquid, it could have been anything but let’s assume it was a liquid Russian roulette. The creamy butterscotch scent floated on volatile fumes to my nose, fooling into thinking I had not just consumed viscous fire. The raging sting of the poison crawled from my bowels to the tip of my tongue and I cried out, “160 proof!?! Are you trying to kill me?” It took yet another thimble of this corrosive toxic potion to convince me that in fact Charlie had found me, and he was using chemical warfare.

Unrelated to Faire, this Friday I am celebrating my birthday at Britannia Arms. We plan to invade this establishment wearing Ren Faire gear and pirate outfits. Expect debauchery.


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