SLuT H3 Beer Frame Bowling: El Noche Uno

Aka "What's With the Chicken?!"

This is how I remember it, and that's all that matters…
This past Saturday, the SLuTs, represented by eXceSs, Lycktonite, BATT, Poopatrooper, an abundance of marketing materials (courtesy of Lycktonite), and a chicken, convened on South Lake's finest in Bowling establishments for what was termed Beer Frame Bowling. What is that, exactly, you ask? Well, we did too, and our creative and colorful Lycktonite had a different answer for each. Basically, it involves bowling and down-downs out of assigned drinking vessel, aka the Chicken of the Day, assigned much like trail tribulation, which kind of started to take on a pattern after a few frames, but by then there we were on a 3rd pitcher of beer, and 'patterns' became as elusive a white rabbits. Chicken down-downs were handed out for gutter balls, pins left up, or was it pins knocked down, or both, stealing turns, breathing, or for just being too darned cute (I know this is why I got so many down downs…).

So we converged on the ally, and as us gals grabbed our clown shoes, and started the life long search for adequate balls, Excess unpacks his personal bowling ball and pure white bowling shoes, the later which make him look a bit like Captain Merrill Stubing. Out of his trusty bag he also pulls more types of chalk than pro skiers have wax, and a funny looking, filthy rag which he called a Ball Buffer (really, Excess! We were right next to CHILDREN!)

So we started to play. Poopa whined of no warm-up round, Excess's secret history of joining the bowling team while at the Air Force Academy in order to get out of church (seriously, was that the only option?) was revealed, and BATT decided to impersonate a ringer, and started out the first game with 4 consecutive strikes! Down-Downs commenced, the chicken was abused, fondled, f*cked with, sucked from, and often. Just Bruce, knowing that fun was being had in town and not wanting to miss out, joined us late, and was, of course, greeted with the chicken and duties of refilling the beer pitcher. Excess, with his competitive bowling history resurrecting itself, couldn't wait for his turn, and kept bowling for Poopa instead, artificially inflating her score. Poopa returned the favor with intentional gutter balls (that'll teach him!) Truth before Justice, Excess enlisted one of the 10 yr olds bowling near by to hack the scoring computer and swap the scores, thus introducing the previously innocent young boy to a life of lies, bribery and sin. (His dad later signed up for the hash…) z

Louder and louder, from all sides, came the call of "What's With the Chicken?". Apparently South Lake doesn't see much chicken guzzling at bowling alleys. The group of middle aged gents and their 10 yr old sons to one side, the barely-out-of- their-teens to the other (gotta love fake id's), and half of the staff. We all kicked into full marketing mode with Lycktonite handing out cards and fliers, adjusting her blinkie bunny ears, and showing more cleavage, BATT trying fruitlessly to think of more songs, Excess buffing his ball, Poopa, after her initial cries of "I don't share sex toys" doing demonstration down-down after demonstration down-down on her knees, and Just Bruce, intent on showing the fun loving side of the hash, giggled. Eventually, the chicken was passed around the lanes. Much recruiting and rejoicing occurred. Details got fuzzy. And enough drinking occurred that we all thought we were being funny enough to start a list of quotes, so here they are (disclaimer: these were really funny at the time, a true testament on how schnockered some of us were getting…)

Be there to witness the next one!
ONON
Poopatrooper