Review of last night's gig.
We paraded in the 1972 Dodge to Canoga Park to witness the almighty band of the Oak in action. Upon arrival to this quaint valley town our bowels became a gastro-intestinal slip and slide for digested food stuff gathered in an earlier hunting expedition along the Mount Angelis River Basin. With a multitude of grimaces lining the interior of the vehicle we surveyed the land for a stool that would be to our standards. Behold!!! A Coco's lies in the expanse!
We entered the lavatory with release in sight! Gasp, one stall for the two of us! We solved this dilemma with a friendly match of paper, scissors, rock, as turtleheads went astern, breeching orifices who could no longer hold the weight of their wasteful will.
I gallantly win the face off and drop my chonies to the tile. Perrrrrrp plunk port! Success.
I exited the holy confines, leaving Mike with a short Tejano who barreled in to the wash room on two separate occasions prior in the need of relief. According to Mike's testimony, he muttered several indecipherable slurs in Spanglish and sputtered off to his family of 18 which lied in wait.
We made it back to the vehicle, where we mixed a liberating libation of Smirnoff Vodka and pomegranate concentrate. This preamble to the event was probably the highlight of the night, as delightful conversation was exchanged between the covey in the sole presence of Mother Wind who would chime in with the occasional brisk touch. This was until L.A.P.D pulls up to the vehicle with spotlights pointed down our Angeleno-Saxon throats!
"Hark who goes there?', I asked P2 officer Jose Lopez who approached the vehicle from an oblique position. I thought the jig was up, surely we would be cited for our public transgressions. We explained that we were waiting for a band to hit the stage at the cafe across the street, as we just finished breaking bread in the diner. Ofc. Lopez, quickly apologized and moseyed back in to the night from which he came.
Shortly thereafter, we entered the venue...
It was here where we seen faggoths sprawled upon half a dozen couches in this tidy venue which was no larger than a nice sized living room. We ourselves took a seat and took in the rehearsal like feel of the event. Needless to say, Oakhelm played as tight as Moose's chapped asshole after reciting Kazantzakis.