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Deadly Nightshade Poker Night?

Date: Thu, 25 Sep 2003 15:30:22 -0400
Subject: Deadly Nightshade Poker Night?
From: blake
To: poker-night

Once, there was a squirrel.  He was bad.  So very bad.  He would go
around the forest being all like, “look at me!  I’m a squirrel!” and
then he’d throw acorns at the people who were trying to have a
delightful picnic.  Then he would shoot them!  As the people lay dying
on their red and white checkered picnic cloth — their oozing blood
slowly turning the cloth solid — they would curse the squirrel, saying
things like, “damn you, you bad squirrel!”  The bad squirrel would
laugh that little chirping squirrel laugh and then run off to find some

One time, after murdering an entire 3rd grade field trip group, the bad
squirrel was unable to find any coke!  This made the bad squirrel
angry!  He scampered angrily to the forest ranger station, hopped into
the largish rustic cabin which served as a base of operation for the
National Forest Service, who were rather befuddled by the large number
of murders taking place in this particular, otherwise quite ordinary
forest.  Once inside the building, the bad squirrel let out a piercing
scream, and the forest rangers dropped what they were doing to cover
their ears and looked in horror at the bad squirrel as he started to
foam at the mouth and drew his gun.  “Stop right there, you bad
squirrel!” said one of the forest rangers who did not currently have
the gun aimed in his direction in a calm but firm manner.  The bad
squirrel, breathing heavily, turned towards the outspoken ranger,
keeping his gun drawn and aiming at one ranger, then another as he
moved.  Finally, the gun was aimed squarely at the impertinent ranger’s
head.  The bad squirrel voiced his demands, a simple kilo of cocaine
and he’d be on his merry way, but the rangers didn’t speak squirrel so
they had no idea what the bad squirrel was trying to say.  The brave
but foolish ranger who had drawn the bad squirrel’s attention began to
speak.  “I wouldn’t do anything, bad squirrel,” he said, “for you see,
I am no ordinary forest ranger.  I am the Hulk, and if you make me
angry, say by shooting me, you’ll regret it.”  The bad squirrel shot
him and the ranger let out a terrifying growl and staggered forward.
The bad squirrel shot him again.  The ranger thundered, “HULK MAD!
HULK VERY MAD!  HULK KILL!”  Then he toppled over and died, for he was
not actually the Hulk.

The other rangers began to advance on the bad squirrel, who let out
another piercing scream, threw his gun out the window and thumped his
chest with both of his cute little squirrel paws.  An intense
kickboxing match commenced.  Soon only the bad squirrel and single
ranger were left standing.  “Ah, bad squirrel,” said the ranger, “you
are indeed very powerful my child.  Join with me, and together we can
rule this paradigm.”

The bad squirrel said, “join you!  Who the fuck are you!” in squirrel,
so it sounded like “ayeee! chie chie yeeee! Rrrr Rrr! yee!”

“Ah, my child, it is I, Satan,” said Satan, as he pulled the ranger
face off of his head to reveal a slightly smaller face that was red and
had horns and yellow eyes.  The bad squirrel asked Satan if he had any
coke.  “Of course, will two kilos do for now?” said Satan, waving his
left hand in a dandy fashion while his right hand stayed glued to his
hip as two bricks of cocaine wrapped in brown paper materialized on the
floor a foot away from the bad squirrel.  “Of course, there is all the
coke you could ever want, waiting for you in hell.  All you have to do
is join me by signing this little contract,” said Satan as a clipboard
with a ball point pen chained to it and a photocopied document clipped
onto it with one of those bright red “sign here” stickers near the
bottom appeared, leaning against the two bricks of cocaine.

Just then, The Incredible Hulk burst through the door to the rustic
Satan and the Hulk began to fight, and soon they were joined by Captain
America and the rest of the Avengers.  The bad squirrel took the two
kilos of coke and made a quick exit.  He found the gun he had cast
aside and made his way home, excited about what would prove to be his
greatest coke binge since high school.

After a few hours of fighting, the Avengers settled their differences
with Satan.  They all had a good laugh about that silly old squirrel
and his coke problem.  Then Satan checked his email one one of those
unholy wireless internet devices and discovered to his delight that
tonight is:

“first hand at nine”

Bring Consumables.
Bring your cute friends.

DangerHaus is:  XX XXXXXXXXX XX. #X, in decadent Somerville, MA.

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