TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile
On Monday night, wily-kid mayhem ensued merrily, a tangle of limbs eager to dispel propriety and wrestle, bestowing wedgies and smashing cherry tomatoes and banana into virgin orifices. "She's a biter!" someone yelled. "Excuse me, I have mashed potato in my ear." Cold beer flowed down necks and torsos while laughter squirmed across the room, crawling under tables and into corners.