Wait for the "Weh Weh"

So our dear blogger Denise is off in the Backyard...located in York, Penn. Working hard everyday on making the sunlight shine on the little drama of the Tale of the Mighty Knights. Most of her first days were spent helping set up the kingdom and discovering who the players were. The most important player it would seem is an Egg. The Egg goes by many names: Eggbert, Eggy, Eggwin and seems to acquire friends easily. Could this egg truly be the reason that Denise was brought all the way to this desolate land of York. Eggbert seems to vary in size - sometimes growing, sometimes shrinking. He has distinctive purple dots as his camoflauge. But most importantly is that it is self propelled. That is right the egg moves on its own. Pay no attention to the wheels underneath, and the sound of a humming motor and the man behind curtain with the remote. This scary little egg is moving all over the stage. Speaking in the strange language of "Weh.Weh" If seen you should run...Denise has heard that this egg has been sighted flying above fields and lurking around a place called Dragon Mountain. This could only mean one thing - the egg is dangerously close to cracking and who knows what is inside. ps - I heard it was a dragon - but don't tell!!

By a vote of 7 votes to none, Proposition 930 has been approved

March 16th - Week two. Strange things are afoot at the Silver Fox, having had consumed too much Formula HJ69 combining the Patron serum with Love Potion number 9. After cheery gay tunes (awkwardly long versions of "My Humps", drunken minors just out of house arrest getting newsboys shots of Jaeger, womens' standards sung by men in octaves only heard by dogs, and too many pool and darts games), the revelry soon turned amuck.

Whataburger

The caravan took a slight detour to visit hamburger touting trannies named Angel where facilities were offered without question (ie the dumpster). Others chose the WC.

The events that shall not be spoken of: (except here by the top secret bloggers).

Jekyll quickly tranformed reveling his true side: that of a nudist. He quickly converted the entire Board of Govenors to dip in hot springs. Harold Hill had a preview as the Bishop revealed his sin. "Very Nice". The apothecary decided to use himself as the subject of his own experiment in facial reconstructive surgery. He was unaware that he risked death. There were not enough antidotes for Constable Corky. The Bishop's moon shone bright that night as the Bishop couldn't convert him, even with sensibly placed jazz hands. Could he see inside the Facade??

The Board conferred; they decided the wounds didn't run deep enough. Jekyll and the first mate treated him with their own version of sympathy and tenderness thanks to the sun city ladies who lunch. The next day would bring an event that deserved fur. The saving grace of the newest hooker in town deflected the wrath of Charlie's angels.

Chambermaid Casey fled the queendom, but not without her own share of evil potions. Soon balls aplenty were flying.

It seemed all was right in the land, minus a few OD's and the first mate gets shore leave.

Little did we know, it would change his soul...and the blog as well.

March 12th - We are here, we are all here. It is week two of this experiment called "show". Our captain has left us and soon the first mate will be as well (only for two and two). Left are only a few guest bloggers, Michael and Nick.

How far do we go back? We have to go back to the place where the journey started, a little town of Anatevka where we first departed, charting a course to March 7th on the trail of Tevye's tears. But who is...this woman...that I see....Someone a tailor would desire? And why is Poole leaking blood from every orifice? Nary (insert finger wag). I don't like it.

Lookout Dalton sailed us straight to the bishop's birthday, a surprise it was not...it was in dire need of a savior, but all we got were bad ABT dancers (insert scowling look from michael). "And by that I mean American Ballet Theatre". Lots of Centerstage drama left us wondering what would prevail through the iceburg of tech week.

DEAD AHEAD

Fast forward to tech (one day later). A lot of people talking, no one agreeing. Costumes, trains and fabric everywhere, but where is the blood we seek? Maybe we could find it if there was a little more light on stage. PS, what show are we doing? Sweeney? Even the barbor would have hopped on Lady B's train, destination: Ping Pong Plaza with a Choo Choo Charlie and a .... class act.



How many times can one die? Or ways? No, we were right. Would you just die already? Bruised, bloodied and confused, we sailed into port on the coattails of alcohol consumption. Shore leave was not as expected. Strange new, sour sensations were discovered. The experiments went out of control, we are out of control, but yet Hillbilly Hyde came to the rescue. We also discovered the humor of a notebook: salty, bitter taste...slight feeling of euphoria, like the feeling of a salt water enema after too many WOW chips (insert slightly off look by Michael).

Allergic reactions to the environment caused weary bodies, bruised egos, and a need to rest by the waters.

We leave you with this one thought: Why does the dirty old bishop look like Mango from SNL?



PS - I'm just saying that Denise (a hypocrite) has a dirty whorish mouth.