SR's Weekend Reports of the "Queen's Version of the Amish Chicken Massacre" (8/1/00)

The time for the Amish Chicken massacre had come. I was outside Fuzzy's but it was locked. Calling from the phone across the street, the door soon opens and this redheaded, pale man opens the door. It is B.O.B and he says that spics have to be led in through the back door. "This must be him alright", I thought. He is wearing a rival Met's shirt. He leads me to the back where I meet /^A^\, Iron Mike, a guy he jokingly calls Elroy, his wife and this biker lookin' chick who looks more burnt out than B.O.B.
B.O.B. is exactly the way he posts. He made me look bad in pool as he left me cue ball in poor position every time. True to his promise the Perfect Pints flowed liberally straight from the keg. Soon I was in 'the zone', feeling no pain. 'The Wife' is even paler than he is. At least B.O.B. has freckles. Her complexion rivals Casper's . She's pretty and in a neck-and-neck sprint with /^A^\ would break the tape first because of some really bodacious ta-tas. In comparison, /^A^\'s rack looked like large C-cups. The man does not need to frequent titty bars believe me. More importantly, she exudes feminine charm and etiquette.
On the other hand, I was very surprised by how sweet and cheerful /^A^\ was. I was actually embarrassed because I felt I might have offended her due to the nature of the Weekend Report(tm) has somewhat of an 'X' rating. She downplayed her 'sweater puppies' in this smart Hawaiian shirt-type blouse and shorts to reveal healthy legs. Her blonde highlights accentuated her light complexion. She scores big points with me for being 'one of the guys' on this board.
Iron Mike is a reserved gentleman who holds the distinction of having been the creator of one of the funniest lines ever on this board. I still 'laugh like a retard' when I read his take on the FBI. "If you doubt me, I will ignore you". His wheelbarrow sexual position is also a classic as is his 'splitting of the black oak as taught to him by his pappy'. It's the quiet guys you have to watch as you shall see later.
At one point, B.O.B sticks his fingers in his crotch and pulls out some pubic hairs, also red. BWAAAAHHH!!! I forgot exactly what triggered it but I believe it was something Iron Mike said. I covered me Guinness with me other hand and said, "Ewwwwwwww"!
The burnt out hippy chick was totally out of it a candidate for a poster about the dangers of drug abuse.
We leave to hang out at B.O.B's house. I ride with his wife in case we were to get separated. He warns me that if she smells like rice and beans when she got home he would box my ears, or something to that effect. I promised him that I was going to be a perfect gentleman which I was. Soon after about 10 minutes on the highway we reach his house in a good neighborhood. We drop off the ladies and go to the supermarket. We purchase some red meat and shrimp, Harp lager and Guiness in the pub-cans. We donn our Jackie voices as B.O.B. leads a barrage on this poor unsuspecting male cashier. At first he smiles at our humor but becomes very serious when B.O.B. makes a comment about his 'cute' arse.
to be continued...

B.O.B. makes a comment about a gay barbeque where the franks taste like sh!t and by now I'm ROFLMAO. We leave the poor kid at the cash register in a somber mood. Iron Mike comes up big with the tab. We get into b.o.b's vehicle which he treats like an Army jeep and head to this pub that looks like if belonged in the plains of New Mexico. I swore that we would be served beer in cans but that was not to be the case. After a round, we go back to b.o.b's house.
We eat and the chicken and shrimp are bathed in this 'special' hot sauce which is a favorite's of b.o.b's. Injesting some more black and tans and a shot of Jack Daniel's we opt to surf this website. We sing along to b.o.b's song parodies on Doc's board. As we are doing this I feel this strange rumbling in my gut. I make a beeline to the head and squat down in the nick of time. My bowels emptied so fast, the contents didn't have a chance to stick to my bum. A minimum of squares were needed. "Damn hot sauce," I thought. Feeling better I rejoined the crew for some more libations. We saw the Whoopdie-do picnic video where I saw Doc, Moptop, Punjab and the Philly Sissy. /^A^\'s hair was shorter and darker and she was in 'full arousal' as evidenced by 'toggle switches' which were not lost on the 'tit man' B.O.B. Cries by KOABO of, "F the Spic" raised my ire. The dude is clearly in fixation with a member of the same sex. The KOAJ looked somewhat paranoid when the camera was on him.
Soon, the cumilative effects of of the libations were too much for this writer. I promptly dozed off.
As I try to replay the events that follow in my head I come up with the following:
IM and b.ob. wink at each other and call /^A^\ down. IM whips out a digital camera and b.o.b drops his drawers. He proceeds to moon me right in my face but I don't catch whiff of it until,
a/ I hear /^A^\ laughing hysterically
b/ the flash of the camera goes off in my eyes
c/ I turn to my right and right there, staring me in the face is b.o.b bare-naked ass, black crack and all, I even feel the heat of his butt cheeks against my skin, that's how close he got.

I quickly come to but I can't get upset because /^A^\ is enjoying it immensely and I know of the white man's penchant for the need to 'moon' as part of being the life of the party. B.O.B and IM shake me hand for being a good sport about it.
We soon crash and B.O.B is sleeping in an upright position with the t.v. on. IM fell off the sofa onto the floor and when I awoke I shut off the tv and was now able to stretch out fully on the sectional. Then I dozed off but when I awoke, IM had snuck out in the wee hours of the morning without saying goodbye to anyone.
We had breakfast courtesy of B.O.B. Instead of o.j., he cracks a cold one! He accused me of eating some salami, cheese and crackers left on the living room coffee table when in fact, it was the dog, Rusty who relished the snack.
This dog reminded me of the html of the dog who was scrapping his pecker on the ground after having had sex with caroline....bwaaaaaaah!!!!
After having the omlette B.O.B pried it off the skillet, his bride make some coffee and I was ready for the ride home. After saying goodbye to The Wife, /^A^\, and B.O.B I departed. Hung over and tired from not having slept in my own bed, I was caught in a monsoon on the LIE. Life is good.

The Aftermath...

A good weekend is not without its mental notations.
The major mental notation of this weekend was provided by /^A^\, albeit unwittingly.
After B.O.B. and IM made her day at me expense, she retired to the sanctity of her room.
In a stroke of genius, IM timing himself perfectly, opened the door to her room exactly as she was disrobing. After catching a sh!tload of 'eye candy' and being repremanded for his bold intrusion; IM, the gentleman that he is, respected her wishes after leaving word that he was at the ready with his 'branding iron'.
Filing this pertinent data onto my 'floppy disk' I soon found meself home. My bride was worried about me 'cents' I was in the company of strangers. I had answered her pages at B.O.B's house. The kids were still at their grandma's; me bride had used this weekend to also go out. Watching some t.v. as she dressed, the image of IM leering at /^A^\'s freed 'sweater St. Bernard's ' kicked in. I reminded me bride that the house was all to ourselves. Before you could say, "Er, exsqueeze me, /^A^\ is that all you?", our clothes were off. I went straight for me bride's rack and suckled. Cents she was in the female superior position, they dangled in front of me eyes. They did just fine, thank you. While not as pendulous those of the ladies of the Amisch Chicken Massacre, they were bigger than m'hoes who has large A's which are constantly being propped together, lifted and separated, etc.
She rode the Probe until she and me nut sac were bathed in her natural juices. A basting turkey has nothing on her slit. After she got off with deft use of the 'angle of penetration' method of coitus, I opted to plunge me hammer deeply into her hairy gash. Grabbing her pert bum in me big hands, I aided and abetted her motion, alternately spreading and relaxing me grip on her gluteuses. Soon, me testes ascended into me pelvic floor. For that all-important 'cum shot', I spewed liberal amounts on her cheeks, in effect, glazing them in a fashion that would have made the local Dunkin' Dounuts proud. As Bob Costas, would be fond of saying during an NBA telecast of a'put back basket' of an offensive rebound, it was time to 'clean up the mess'. My job was done.
It was time to pick up me charges.




         

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