1993

One more glorious moment in Maine, with one helluva mullet, also named Dave. Dave's mullet was a glorious-looking brown waterfall; he was like a white-trash statue. I miss that guy. By the way, what Dave is holding is a squirt-gun. Can you guess where the water came out?

Here we are in other friend Rob's uncle's basement, drunk off our frickin' keesters, whining about how there's never any women around, listening to King Diamond, swilling Rock, sticking crap on our heads and taking pictures. I actually don't remember this night too well, but I'd still bet anything this paragraph is 100% accurate.

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copyright © 2000 David C. Lovelace