Well that first weekend was party plus. We had met chicks at work and we hit the college party circuit. I didn’t really fit in, having graduated college two years ago, but that didn’t seem to bother the girls. After a few beers and huffing some gas, I was the life of the party. The girls talked to me, but none of them bit. It was all friendly stuff. The other chumps were the same way. But hey. I was making progress from where I used to live. And that was enough to keep me suave for a while. I’m not really a suave person in reality. I don’t buy clothes, I wear the same shit all the time. I hate to get a hair cut. I shower every day mind you. Maybe even twice or three times a day if I have a greasy crap. Which brings me to my greatest personal fault when it comes to my relationship with the opposite sex. I’m a weird fucker, I admit it. I love bathroom humor. I love strange stories and weird people. I like having a bad time. I like huffing gasoline and lighter fluid. Now some of these traits are endearing, but they sure don’t fit the GQ profile I was going for. So essentially I was putting on a disguise to reel in the chicks, only to expose them to the real me once they were addicted to my spell. Now some of you may not think that I am that weird. And I would also have to agree. I have found through my studies that the weirdest people are those that appear to be totally normal. More on this later. One of my inherent problems is that I’m a strange chump and I’m addicted to nice girls. Another problem is that I have to have some emotional connection to have humpage. I’ve had plenty of options to go for it. To hump when I shouldn’t and each time I have chosen to hold back. There were the hookers on Den Prabkeet, the double vixens at Larry's House of Leisurely Women, etc... There was the opportunity to go hoggin with a used car salesman who knew how to score the D-grade poontang. But when the time came to approach the plate, my jonsin always said no thanks. But back to the story at hand.

Us chumps were meeting a lot of beautiful girls. I had my feelers out on at least four chicks. Which was more than I ever had in college. These girls thought I was a successful computer nerd with a sense of humor. Which is accurate for the profile I was projecting. My trap was starting to work. The three of us were after some of the same chicks, which didn’t seem to be a problem. We were all after one chick that had a boyfriend already, but she didn’t seem too attached to him. She was super cute. Gus was more attracted to her than anyone else, though he didn’t have much luck. Then there was the one from Tam Warken Hurzl. Damn, she was spicy. She too had a boyfriend that seemed to be hanging on by a thread. There was also the one with, well I almost don’t remember. Then there was the one that I knew was right for me. But the irony with me is that I don’t match up with the girls I am truly attracted to. I have seen this problem time and time again. This girl was way too nice an innocent. How would a swinging buck like myself reel in a girl from the good side of the tracks? Anyway. The dudes and the chicks went out a lot to party. And party hard. We got into fights. That’s right, we were some tough fuckers. And we went to parties, but none had much luck for a long time. And the Rat Fucker boss man presented several pesky problems along the way. What a dick.

I went back to Tarkmeegan on a couple weekends to party with the old crew. They were still the same. I felt a world away. But then that’s what I wanted. To become a new man. And find love, or at least a whole heap of meaningless sex without paying for it. Come on, isn’t that what every man wants in their early twenties? On one particular weekend we had planned a great party. A pimps and hookers party to end all pimp and hooker parties. We had planned for a lot of madness. I had a large fro and a cape and a couple of weasels around my neck. And to get my body moving I had a couple rocks of crack to put myself in the wrong frame of mind. I invited miss goody from Cornbuk, but that didn’t follow through, so I went up north to get mad. Gus came up too. He had a sweet pimping mobile that fit the bill, and a fly getup to boot. Well I partied my brains out but nothing came of it. I was eager to get back to the humping (hunting) grounds.

Part 3 of story continued on Tuesday.  

      Gratz meef,
            Reverend Speefnarkle