Klingons, S&M, fake bestiality and other fun things.
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Per request from another thread
Well, back in the 90's ST:TNG was current and ViaKhan was working the Klingon angle fairly well. So my brother and I started hanging out at the conventions with other people who were into the Klingon thing. Yes, I had full makeup, including the headpiece.
Well, whenever there was a con in NYC, the social activity on Saturday evening was to go to a local S&M club. Instead of going as Klingons, three of us would switch costumes to real monk's robes. We billed ourselves as being from the order of Sybarites (for those who do not know, the reference was to a colony in ancient Greece that was dedicated to the pursuit of all forms of pleasure).
One time, when we were on our way there, we were across thew street from a huge Orthodox seminary when some dude stopped us to ask if we were white supremacists. How he connected brown robes to that, I have no idea.
Anyway, without missing a beat, I asked if he would give us money if we were. To which he was obviously confused enough to ask what that was about. My reply was that we could be into lots of things if he would give us some money. To make a long story short, he did not give us money and we continued on our way.
OK, that is really not much of a story but cervellio_marcio asked. There are better stories from those days that will come out sooner or later. A quick example would be the time we got a new member of our crew who happened to be an NYC narcotics officer named Dave.
Well, we coordinated the crowd control work over CB class C radios with “ear mics” like you might occasionally see the Secret Service using. Well, we all had a personal call sign. Mine was “bastard”. Dave for his part used his own name as his call sign.
Being a narc, you would think that he ought to know better than to go on air with the words “This is Dave”. However, he was clueless as to what he was saying. Every time he would try to use the radio, the whole network would be shut down for the next 30 seconds while 50 of us were saying “Daves' not here...”
Never ever did I say enything about free, I said "free."
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I have a similar story about monks robes, S & M, 12 year old girls, etc.......... but my lawyer told me not to make any statements untill after the next court appearence..............and pay his bill.
"Very funny Scotty; now beam down our clothes."
VEGETARIAN: Ancient Hindu word for "lousy hunter"
If man was formed from dirt, why is there still dirt?
Well, there are no underage girls at S&M clubs. In fact, you have to sign your name on a form to get in. I usually signed the name of some asshole I was working with at the time. In fact, he was authorized to sign company checks, so I was able to do a decent forgery at that.
However, regarding underage girls, there was this time that we were in a ST:TNG base paint ball game. For some reason, the GM had me dragging a picnic cooler across the field which held a smoke detector. If I could get the damned thing to the middle of the field and set it off, we would have won the game.
As it happened, it was actually a set-up. Both for me and the other two teams, the guys with the payload had had “spies” planted on our teams who took the batteries when we were not looking. Well, my spy told me that he had done so right before taking off.
I jumped out of cover and screamed to my team: “stop that guy! Full body cavity search is authorized!”. Sadly, nobody caught him. Yet a quarter of a mile later, we met up with another team member who was about 16 and she had one of the radios for the team.
Well, she did not want to give up the battery. When I heard that, I was standing only a few feet away (field rule was that you have to be 20 feet away to fire). So I drew a bead on her and shouted, “the only part of you that I need is the battery and I am backing up!”. She gave me the battery before I got far enough back to light her up. Had I got a couple of feet farther back, I would have triple tapped her.
As it turned out, I ended up with a AAA battery and I needed a C battery. Well, someone on my team had some change in his pocket, so we were able to rig spacers to make it work. We ended up winning the game despite the GM trying to set up a no win scenario.
At the dust off, I sat in the back of the room and painted his chest with my laser sight for a couple of seconds before dropping it to right over his balls. The whole league (about 150 of us) erupted in laughter.
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Hahaha, nice thanks for posting the stories. The context from the other thread was overwhelmingly random, I had to know what the hell you were talking about.
"Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, show me the steep and thorny way to heaven. Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, himself the primrose path of dalliance treads. And recks not his own rede."
No prob dude. Let me give you another. But first, I need to cover a couple of background points.
First, a single hotel room can hold 10 to 15 people. Lodging for a weekend can be as little as $20.
Second, the Fnorgers. Four guys from Maryland who are cool to hang with. I have a vague memory of doing a belly crawl across a hotel lobby at four in the morning with them while humming the mission impossible theme.
Third, Fnorg is a snapple bottle full of warm water with yellow food coloring that one fills in a hotel bathroom. The whole point being to show up at room parties and offer random people a drink. When they ask what it is, we would answer truthfully that it is warm, yellow and we filled the bottle in the bathroom. The lead Fnorger maintained the same bottle to bring back to conventions for at least five years.
>>>>>>>>>>
Anyway, about the fake bestiality:
There is this guy named Lenny. At some point he told my brother about a time that he was the first person to pass out at a party. I think that everyone ought to know that that is not a good thing to do around unhinged people. However, he managed to wake up alone in bed with an inflatable and anatomically correct pig.
My brother did not pass this along to me for a couple of years but when he did, he gave me the impression that Lenny may have done the nasty with the pig. Then I held onto the story for a couple of years.
Well, eventually, a bunch of us were in a hotel room one evening changing costumes for a night out somewhere (I think this was NYC so we were probably going to the S&M club) and Lenny was with us. So in the general manner of shooting the shit, I asked Lenny about the pig. This led to general chaos amongst the group.
Lenny would not deny having done the pig. Neither would he admit to the matter. Part of what I remember was:
Someone: So do you still have the pig?
Lenny: It was never mine to own.
Someone: Do you have continuing access to the pig?
Lenny: Well, I do live with the owner of the pig.
Remember that this was at least four years later.
Well, the next night, we had a group in a hotel room changing for some other evening out and this time my brother was with us. So it had to happen that Lenny got questioned about the pig yet again. And as with the previous evening, Lenny could not dig himself a deeper hole by categorically denying any involvement with the pig.
OK, fast forward to the next convention, this time in East bumfuck Maryland. And my brother and I were hanging with the Fnorgers. Of course someone mentions Lenny and the pig. To which one of the Fnorgers offers that he knows where to get such a pig. So we piled into two cars for an hour long trip to the red light district of Baltimore.
At the time, we were not worried about anything but in retrospect, we were six drunk guys walking into every porn store in the city demanding an inflatable pig. We probably had to go to a dozen or more shops before we found one.
Eventually, we made it back to the hotel, which that night was hosting a dance for all the convention attendees. After some discussion, we figured out how to give Lenny the pig. I forget who did what but someone had the pig in a black garbage bag and someone else got the DJ to do a dedication. Lenny was handed the pig in public just as the DJ dedicated to him the Jimmy Buffet song “Why don't we get drunk and screw?”
Well, Lenny tried to deflate the pig and leave it in a flower pot. But one of us saw that and save the pig. At the end of the convention, when we are loading our luggage into the rented van, someone distracted Lenny while someone else planted it in his luggage.
OK, next convention and someone has to ask Lenny about the pig.
Lenny, being the kind of guy that he is could not help but to say that the pig had developed a hole that made it hard to re inflate. I would call that proof.
The last time that I ever saw Lenny was the next convention. As luck had it, it happened to be his birthday. So I brought him a nicely wrapped gift. When he opened it, he had a fairly standard first aid kit like you can buy at ant department store. When he opened that, he had three cassettes. The bast of Liberace, the best of Judy Garland and the best of The Village People. Also, a dozen trojans and a tire repair kit.
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Ah! I see you're heavily into fiction!
Excellent stories for enrichment of the adolescent mind.
A quick reminder for the next time you tell the tales. The infamous
"red light district" of Baltimore is known to everyone as "The Block."
That's Ok, the slip didn't ruin the fantasy. Did it?
Lmao, that's fucking win.
Also, treat, maybe he's not from Baltimore and isn't familiar with the slang. I didn't know that's what it's called and I've been there.
"Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, show me the steep and thorny way to heaven. Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, himself the primrose path of dalliance treads. And recks not his own rede."
Yah, any place that has a scifi/gaming con is be definition somewhere that I am not from.
I hail from south western Connecticut, a short trip from such places as the old Frisbie Pie Company (creator of metal disk pie plates which Yale students figured how to throw at each other in the 1930's), the old Frank Pepe's pizzeria, where white pizza was first developed and Gustave Whitehead developed powered flight in 1901.
So when “I know where to buy a pig” came up in conversation like 10~12 years ago, I don't really recall if “the block” was mentioned by name. Even if it was, you have a sand filled vagina if you think that that detail is even relevant to the story. I suggest that you buy a shovel.
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I lived and worked there about 2 years.
As a State it's fairly redneck. 2 cross burnings, white supremacists, Owl (is what they call oil). In general it's a shit State. Porn is heavily censored. Only softcore is legal.
Glad I'm out. And yeah, I've been on "the block" like everyone that lives there.
What are you babbling about, pea-brain.
....Your sand-filled vagina. Can't you read?
"Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, show me the steep and thorny way to heaven. Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, himself the primrose path of dalliance treads. And recks not his own rede."
I don't know what it is like now but I do know what it was like then. We all had to whip out a $20 bill because inflatable party livestock was fairly expensive.
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