…victory, the pregame tailgating- ooh cher- and the aftermath at the club. “But officer, we need to get to our yacht club, and of course, as night must follow day, to our rather large yet modest boat,” George grinned.
The only thing I haven’t gotten over is being scorched and disrespected in the Chili Cook Off. I was given 6th place out of five places/entries and then called to the mic to accept my award and adoring accolades from the gathering only to be jeered derisively in a chorus of “asshole, asshole…”.
I think they were just a funning me. I mean the designated winner was the son in law of the party M.C. and it tasted like a gritty ground beef granule salt lick, the color of blended chili powder and excrement. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it was all right for a college sophomore’s first time effort upon moving out of the dorms. But better than my roast pork delight with at least 10 different chilis participating in the flavor celebration created.
Like I say, it must have been an intentional mistake in a terratorial attempt at both irony and message.