The Minx hosted. We had appetizers, salad, shepard's pie (very British, indeed), and--despite the fact that the entire nation was in the throes of an e-coli infested spinach epidemic--a delicious, shit-peppered, spinach quiche. We even watched clips of the BBC version of Brideshead Revisited (a DVD series that the Minx proudly owns).
Below you will note a delicious vegetable appetizer. The Minx actually made this; she cut the veggies, and opened the jar of cashews all on her own (an amazing feat for the culinary challenged).
The below picture looks like a still from soft porn. Note the glass of bubbly in the foreground. Let me just pause in my narrative to note that the dandies in Brideshead Revisited are very fond of champagne, so this picture is a homage. Back to the below picture. Observe the strawberry floating in the champagne. The best part about the Minx putting berries in champagne is that she tends to ignore Time--which is the pale faced enforcer of Nature's expiration dates--and forgets that produce spoils. Silly Minx! Once, she served us rotten moldy raspberries under the cover of darkness. We were trusting fools. The Escape Goat bit into hers and was notably crestfallen when she immediately realized the berry was rotten. Since the berry in the below picture is fresh, I thought I should take an opportunity to document this rare moment.
Look at Dryfus being good. Dryfus only bit the Mayor once, barked thirteen times, destroyed six toys, and growled at the Escape Goat twice. All-in-all, a good night for him. Awww...Dryfus, your image belongs on the cover of a Trapper Keeper.
Oh, and look who broke out of prison just in time for Booklub--the Mayor and the Escape Goat. Fresh off of the chain gang, these two better get new clothes because those stripes will inevitably give them away. The Escape Goat's looking down at her stripes like, "Oh shit, I had the savvy to break us out of jail, but I forgot to orchestrate a change of clothes!" Meanwhile, the Mayor greats Dryfus by sticking her tongue out at him. That sort of behavior is exactly what landed you real estate in the Cook County lockup in the first place, Mayor.
But really, this was the Mayor and Escape Goat hours before they tunneled through the sewers to make it to Booklub; we should have read In Cold Blood:
"Hey? Who is this? I stopped operating that 900 number years ago. You'll have to let your fingers do the walking and pound pavement on the yellow pages. But wait, do you want to trade sex for a flying carpet?"
After discretely disposing of the stranger on the other end of the phone, the Minx turned on some kind of magical gas and built an imaginary fire. The gas hissed out through secret pipes in the wall, and the Mayor was instantly transfixed by the flames licking the faux logs.
I had no idea she had pyromaniac tendencies! "Ahhh...my pretty," she murmured, shoving Dryfus out of the way in a shameful bid for the "Dryfus" mat on the floor by the fireplace.
I don't know why Double D' Wicked--Corruptor of Innocence is looking so pensive. In fact, I felt she seemed melancholy and distant all evening. Suspicious. Perhaps she only swallowed the souls of three young infants and bathed in the blood of fewer than usual virgins this morning? "Damn. There's such a shortage of virgins--what with all of these suicide bombings and shit."
In the background, the microwave gleamed like a golden calf. "Microwave," asked Minx, "How many Stauffer's mac-n-cheese and frozen french bread pizzas have I warmed in the cockles of your radiating nucleus?" As she pondered her own question, the microwave responded, "That's nothing compared to the concoctions Dryfus's dogwalker makes while you're working in a purple, valor-walled cubicle."
Note the box of Ritz crackers behind Double D' Wicked. Ever since I've known the Minx that box of crackers has been on top of her fridge. Perhaps that's not so weird? I can't decide. I mean, I've only known the Minx for a couple of years; there are things in my apartment I haven't touched for two years (but none of those things are perishable goods). I guess Ritz crackers have a timeless quality? Perhaps they transcend the concept of shelf-life?
"I'll SCISSORS! PAPER! ROCK! you for the box of Ritz crackers."
"You guys--stop making fun of the Ritz crackers. They have sentimental value for the Minx."
As you can see, the Minx came prepared for a hot debate. She penned numerous questions in her champagne and hummus Trapper Keeper. Below she pours over her questions and begins to pummel us with a series of inquiries.
But in this picture you will note that we finally disclosed to the Minx that three of us (the Mayor, Escape Goat, and I) had not finished the book. Upon hearing this news she became instantly deflated, and was like, "Whoa, I need a drink." Double D' Wicked--who was on good behavior and read the book--just threw up her arms and said we may as well spend the evening drinking booze because of the plot twist in the end. They didn't want to disclose it, and we didn't want them to, so our conversation came to a standstill. We just sat around blinking dumbly at each other while consuming alcohol. However, I am pleased to report that we actually did finish the book, and we met up with the Minx at a later date for a very productive compensation conversation.
Check out Double D' Wicked when she's got a little bit of booze in her. "Okay! Who wants to sit on my face? Free moustache rides!" Double D' Wicked has the Booklub pick for the month of October, and we will be glad to break in her brand new pimp-pad with Iris Murdoch (metaphysically speaking, of course). To capture the Halloween spirit we will be in costume--I think. Children, you are welcome to trick or treat Double D' Wicked, as she will be dolling out delicious Granny Smith caramel apples with razor blades neatly tucked inside of them. Mmmm...an ingenious treat designed to simultaneously give you diarrhea and make pâté out of your gums. Double D' Wicked, you mad genius!
A funny thing about the Escape Goat is that she has the comically serious habit of pushing her glasses up on her nose when she is very right and you are very wrong and she just said so. It's sort of like a metaphorical challenge, like when your arch nemesis draws a line in the sand with a cloven hoof. It's kind of funny when she does that--she's all scowling and shit. That's right, those seemingly benign glasses below.
Speaking of the Escape Goat, below you see some of the Escape Goat's experimental photography. The Minx turned an art critic's eye on this piece and opined, "I think she was trying to match the blue of the flame with the blue of the glass." Well, Minx, I found an art curator's position at the MCA on craigslist, better get your application in.
This one looks like a goblet in a pharaoh's tomb...She must be trying to match the yellow in the wall with the yellow in the...uh...flame.
Look at Dryfus, I'm sure he's always sitting there listening to our Booklub conversations thinking shit like, "Why can't I talk? Kevin Hooyman is the only one who understands me. I too could make a meaningful contribution. Stupids! This text should be discussed through a Marxist lens! Why are you assholes ignoring the class stratifications--get over the queer shit, it's so secondary. I read Brideshead Revisited! I read it! What else do you think I do here all day while the Minx is out winning the bread? Why don't they ever ask me to participate in the dialogue? Oh God. Not another BBC clip. Can I get a swill of that wine? If that fucking Mayor makes another face at me when no one's looking I'll sniff her crotch--that'll teach that cantankerous bitch."
Meanwhile...Double D' Wicked--who read the book--was thinking, "Why can't Dryfus talk? He'd make a better contribution than these boneheads."
The Mayor subtly and strategically positioned herself increasingly closer to the fireplace. Not to make a sensational promise, but within under ten pictures you will note that she incinerates herself and makes a comeback in the sequel.
The Minx is like, "So, damn. You guys really didn't read." Meanwhile, I would like to go on record as having been the one to point out that the Mayor is the biggest offender of either not reading, or just half-reading. She's scandalous and shameful about it. She has even gone so far as to brag about this behavior, and threaten to not read the book if she finds the jacket cover disagreeable. Sometimes she tries to actually play if off like she did read by making comments like, "I think it's--you know--fresh." Indeed. Fresh like George Clooney on a first date.
The Escape Goat is getting ice out of the Minx's freezer, and ice is Dryfus's favorite treat. I know several dogs who really love ice. I think it's kind of weird. Sometimes I think that if they only knew how overrated ice was they would give up their pursuit of the cube. I bet European dogs don't like ice.
Look at Double D' Wicked, she's like, "Nothing like chasing fifty percocets with six bottles of wine. Minx! Open another bottle!"
MAYOR: Well, Escape Goat, we've more'n warmed our dawgs. Let's do what we came to do, and get 'er done. Pull out that .45 and plug a cap in the Minx's ass. The safe's behind the box of Ritz crackers.
ESCAPE GOAT: But I want my pumpkin tuptate from Alliance Bakery first!
Finally, we congregated in the mess hall for dinner...
Mmmm...here's that spinach quiche I mentioned earlier. The Minx always lives on the edge; spinach quiche during a poisoned spinach epidemic, or, as Anderson Cooper 360 says, "several dead and hundreds infected." The spinach quiche looked so good that we all ate some of it--Jim Jones style. The best part was that the Minx only gave the Escape Goat leftovers to take home. Surely this can't mean that she favors her, right? I mean, She must have wanted to kill the Escape Goat extra dead. Deader. Deadest!
Witness the remnants of Double D' Wicked's spinach quiche...
Judging by this picture, Double D' Wicked has resigned her fate to a slow, e-coli induced death. "And last but, not least, Minx, be sure that Winnona Ryder gets this message: Winnona, your character in Beetle Juice was an inspiration!"
The funniest part about the Mayor and Escape Goat BOTH wearing prison stripes is that they each fancy themselves fashion individualists. But when two fashion individualists are both wearing the same thing it's a sign that the universe is on the verge of imploding. It was especially comical because they kept sitting beside each other and providing numerous photo ops. Clearly, they deserve the heckling they get in this post.
MAYOR: So this is a pretty nice mess hall you got here, Minx.
ESCAPE GOAT: Yeah, better than that one they got in the joint.
MAYOR: Nuthin' like doin' hard time to make you appreciate the simple things...
ESCAPE GOAT: They don't give a fuck about vegetarians in the big house. Not a fuck. They serve you cheese all day--
MAYOR: --And pizza! They serve pizza.
ESCAPE GOAT: ASSHOLES!
Time to sit back and let the e-coli claim us. Our collective epitaph would have read: They died a dramatic death, worthy of the likes of Sebastian Flyte. The Minx was warned by Katie Couric, Solidad O'Brien, Diane Sawyer, and the entire cast of The News Hour with Jim Laurer. Would she have listened, perhaps they would have seen another day.
As we put on our coats to go, the last thing we heard was the Minx inquiring, "Uh...have you guys seen that movie Alien? My stomach's not feeling so good."
