:: Porkchop Serum ::
There's sparks over that building, they shootin at me. so I dip, do a back flip and hit em in the heart with sharp steel bookmarks| [::..archive..::] |
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:: Tuesday, September 13, 2005 ::
We coasted down into the Christine's parking lot, splish-splashing through slowly growing puddles. The brakes on my rental Opal let out a muffled squeal, weary from our trek out and back from Zweibrucken. I sat hypnotized by the wipers and the rain. Matt started to gather up the papers he had repeatedly referred to since we took delivery as "the dossiers" or "Devil's boil cheese" and other clearly related phrases.
"German music sucks nuts." I clicked off the radio and everything else.
Matt spasmodically faux-stabbed me. "Let me taste your blood, Mein Fuhrer!"
We now had names. Well, stage names. Hanswurst, Minnesinger, Narr, and Pickle Herring. Four clowns who according to Heinz in Zweibrucken belong to an organization whose roots lie in the 3rd Special Brigade of the German Army founded 1938. Freude Männer. The "Joymen". A fighting force so fierce and frighteningly effective they maybe have been responsible for the obliteration of an entire US Army batallion. A force of Clowns. Hitlers Clowns.
:: sandy 11:35 PM [+] ::
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