The bonfire stood ten feet. The fingers of flame stretched out to tickle the underbelly of the setting sun. The sand was still warm to the freshly bared feet. The sky was awash in brilliant hues of red and orange just before it faded to the muted pinky purple that I love so much. The sun had bidden us a cheery goodnight. One by one the stars came out to greet us as the moon showed us her silvery glow. She called to us revellers. We felt the pull.
Chihuahua Grub pulled out his boombox and assorted music collection to get the party hopping. The ambience was set. Suddenly, he ripped off his shirt, beat his chest and let out a howl. A little unnerving, I must say, but still, he had this strange animal magnetism about him. It could have been the rum drinks. The rest of the guys felt the call of testosterone in that rebel yell. They too joined the Grubster, bellowing for joy, bare chested into the night. Then, they started rhythmically dancing around the fire in a male bonding type ritual. Let me tell you, it was a sight to behold. Prole, Quizro's wife, and I put bags over our heads so as not to be recognized. Ask Quizro! He's got a pic to prove it! Quizro's wife was unsettled by the whole thing until I explained to her that sometimes guys just needed to let off a little steam to release some of that testosterone vapor. (kind of like playing football)
A new tune came on and that's when Quizro's true..um..talent surfaced. He started singing like Austin Powers to "I Touch Myself". The posturing he did elicited amused delight from the women. None of us exploded, so no Fembots here! That's some mojo he's got there! m_turner took a photo to blackmail him with at a later date. (pssst, I think the Evil Anti-Quizro will pay top dollar for that shot!)
"Hot, Hot, Hot" started playing. Igloowhite insisted we make a train and that he got to be the caboose. If he was so hot, hot, hot, why was he wearing socks on his arms? Ah, well, who am I to judge? It's not like I'm sitting atop the Totem Pole of Fashion these days. Lost and Found used a great many adjectives. I briefly wondered if he had swallowed a dictionary. He disappeared for a while. We found out later that he had issues with the bathroom stall. I didn't want to delve too deeply into that particular topic.
Someone found a bit of driftwood and yelled, EVERYBODY LIMBO! . We did the limbo until AElien (ok... SOMEBODY put me out of my misery and msg me how to make that symbol! I beg of thee!) grabbed the stick shouting, "NO! NO! It's everybody mambo! Like this!" We threw many grapes at him, all of the grapes in our possession. He had woefully misled us about his mamboing capabilities. He ran to the ocean waves to escape us laughing at our lousy aim. (You try skipping grapes in three foot surf)
We went back to our tropical drinks and frolicking. More illicit revelling in honor of Dionysus until we finally collapsed on the sand around the dying embers of our fire.
We were completely relaxed in a warm fuzzy way. (again, could have been the rum) Prole started singing Kumbaya. One by one we joined in offkey harmony as the sun reached out to caress us with a good morning touch.
A falling stick aroused me from my slumber. ALAS! I was not on the beach partying it up with everythingians, but lying atop our picnic table under the stars. I swear I saw the moon wink at me! I should have known it was a dream. Prole singing Kumbaya? I smiled as I climbed into our camper deciding to pay a visit to e2. You already know what REALLY happened THAT night! ;-)