One daring day in February, my girl and I took it upon ourselves to make a pilgrimage to various Texas towns that serve as a perpetual ode to violence. Yes...with adventure flowing through our veins we hopped in my dirty Jeep and took to the road.
Our wanderlust lead us to something we would later learn to be an
omen of impending doom, but alas our foresight failed us utterly. Ignoring the portents we continued on our fateful journey with light and hopeful hearts.
On we drove to fate...to destiny...to...Cut and Shoot Texas. In a vain attempt to find downtown, we were run off the road by drunken, harmonica playing yokels. Frightened by this emotionally scaring experience we sought out the authorities to protect us in our journeys. Thankfully it didn't take long to located the stronghold of our president and leader of the free world...yes, we found Camp David. As we approached the bushes to search for Secret Service agents to protect us from the frightening Harmonica Yokels, 300 highly armed men jumped out of the bushes and took us prisoner. We should have realized that President Bush, being a Texas yokel himself, would employ highly unstable harmonica yokels to protect his person. After hours of horrifying harmonica torture, they released us back into the world on a promise that we would never again return.
That experienced seemed to change poor Megan, for when we pulled into the Sam Houstons rest stop, I found her acting erratic and frankly a little insane. Really, who can blame her after a murderous bout of harmonica torture? She seemed inexplicably obsessed with Sams junk and ass and the conspiratorial ties between the man and his sponsors.
Oh, and speaking of ass...
Eventually we found our way to Point Blank, but at this point we were so frightened to get out of the car we took this picture as we passed by.
TAXIDERMY!!!
Note: There is a new photo set chronicling our journies.
Our wanderlust lead us to something we would later learn to be an
omen of impending doom, but alas our foresight failed us utterly. Ignoring the portents we continued on our fateful journey with light and hopeful hearts.
On we drove to fate...to destiny...to...Cut and Shoot Texas. In a vain attempt to find downtown, we were run off the road by drunken, harmonica playing yokels. Frightened by this emotionally scaring experience we sought out the authorities to protect us in our journeys. Thankfully it didn't take long to located the stronghold of our president and leader of the free world...yes, we found Camp David. As we approached the bushes to search for Secret Service agents to protect us from the frightening Harmonica Yokels, 300 highly armed men jumped out of the bushes and took us prisoner. We should have realized that President Bush, being a Texas yokel himself, would employ highly unstable harmonica yokels to protect his person. After hours of horrifying harmonica torture, they released us back into the world on a promise that we would never again return.
That experienced seemed to change poor Megan, for when we pulled into the Sam Houstons rest stop, I found her acting erratic and frankly a little insane. Really, who can blame her after a murderous bout of harmonica torture? She seemed inexplicably obsessed with Sams junk and ass and the conspiratorial ties between the man and his sponsors.
Oh, and speaking of ass...
Eventually we found our way to Point Blank, but at this point we were so frightened to get out of the car we took this picture as we passed by.
TAXIDERMY!!!
Note: There is a new photo set chronicling our journies.
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Sounds like my kinda town...
heh heh heh...