From email@example.com Date: Wed, 22 May 96 17:02 PDT To: Multiple recipients of list
Subject: A special thanks... I've already mentioned how much fun the Fish Fry was. I've been thoroughly gushy with appreciation for all you Drunken Biker Scum. It's time to put my honey where my mouth is, and tell Carol that we're having another party: It was so much fun I've decided to do it again, only this time with goat. If you can read this you are invited to wetLeather's THIRD ANNUAL (Geez, this's like Deja Vu all over again) SUMMER SACRIFICE and GOAT ROAST Saturday, June 15th, 5:00 PM (You're welcome to show up earlier, but we won't give you any food, and you'll probably be drafted to turn and baste the goat.) A cute fuzzy animal with big brown eyes will give its life for our fleeting pleasure. We'll also do brutal things to potatoes and maybe some corn and any other vegetables that I take a sudden dislike to. The usual amounts of beer will be provided, and we promise to do a better job on the soft drinks. Bring yourselves, bring your families (if they're not too squeamish), bring stuff to eat and drink if the menu looks suspicious or you happen to have a particular skill with things sweet, rich, and chocolate. (The grill will be available if any of the goat impaired wish to bring an alternate source of animal protein.) As a courtesy to the other guests, please limit solstice rituals to those that can be performed clothed and that are survived by all participants (except, of course, the four-legged one). We haven't named this one yet, and "Hapless Victim" may be a bit too formal ("Pardon me, mister Victim, I have this spit, if you'll hold still for just a moment..."), so if anybody has a suggestion for a name for our guest of honor, email me. (If we think of a prize, it'll be a contest.) Same place as last time, which, if you carelessly delete your mail when you've finished using it, can be found thusly: [directions snipped...] It's the green house on the southwest corner of the intersection, on your left after the left turn. It can be easily recognized by the state of the lawn, which is suffering from a sudden failure of its roto-tiller (imagine the results of someone thoroughly drunk, passing out in the middle of shaving with a dull razor...)
Anyway, after a week of living like Medieval people (which is also another story for another time), we were more than ready for some carnage!!
This year Martin basted differently too. Last year it was the old
sprig-of-rosemary-as-a-basting-brush trick; this year, it was marinade
in a spray bottle. Chris Spindler arrived early, and was put to the
grueling labor of lying in the hammock and getting up whenever the timer
rang to spray the goat.
By the time John and Greg and Billie and I had finished having Yet
Another Adventure involving that goddamned pickup truck (long story),
there were already lots of bikes outside Martin's place. Gotta wonder
what the neighbors think... ;)
But then, there're lots of bikes outside Martin's place at least three
times a year, so they oughta be used to it by now. That big brown
pickup with the camper is the one that gave us so much grief...
Eventually, the entire driveway is full, and all up and down the street.
I've almost never seen Martin's driveway not in this condition...