Time Travellers: Post your notes from the 2014 First-Ever Annual Discordian Kiki

[Eater of Clowns]

I saw him die.  I swore I saw him die.  And then there he was.  Handing me another drink with a big grin.

The Pool on the Roof was there.  No, it wasn't a pool party.  Someone brought the Pool on the Roof.  Tile by tile.  Cup by cup.  Flaming tire by flaming tire.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

I pulled myself out of the bourbon after I felt I had gotten a couple of good glugs in, and pulled myself out. I would need to change my clothes. But not now. Gotta deliver the pain to Payne.

I get up, take a swing, and he's already fucking gone. I do, however stumble forward from the momentum into a Dutchman deep in thought.

"Trip?" says I to the mop of hair, sunglasses and a rolled cigarette.

"I thought you quit smoking."
"Yeah well, I just got a reason to start again. Look, I might need your help. Do something about your clothes first though."

At that, Coyote cackled and goaded me to strip down completely. Said something about being comfortable in my own room. But this wasn't my room, was it?

"Trip... where do I live?"
"Boston, of course."
"Not Somerville?"
"No, not anymore."
"Are we in Boston?"
"No, Twid. We are most certainly NOT in Boston."

[Triple Zero]

We're not in Boston?! Holy crap!

I smoke five extra cigarettes just because my non-fictional self cannot.

Damn you, Twid.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

We're not in Boston?! Holy crap!

I smoke five extra cigarettes just because my non-fictional self cannot.

Damn you, Twid.

We might be in Cambridge. Or maybe in 2014 Boston is some sort of metaphor and you misunderstood my meaning. Also, the Cram thing has you unnerved. Not my fault you fell off the wagon.

[Epimetheus]

...things are blurry...roger's doing something like a jig atop the coffee table...people are screaming...or is that laughter...

...woke up face down in the back yard, kiki still going on inside...checked for wallet/keys/phone and came up with two handfuls of alfalfa sprouts...Ratatosk sat on the fence, drunkenly reciting eastern poetry, and seeing me wake asked if i wanted some acid...considering the circumstances i politely declined...

...DANCE, MOTHERFUCKERS,  DANCE!! I- oh god where's the toilet - here? that's a fucking paper shredder...JESUS...it'll have to do...

...went upstairs to gather myself, quietly sat by the window - looking out, saw cramulus sitting against the chimney, speaking lovingly to a king kong piñata, backlit by the moon like elliott and E.T....

[Lenin McCarthy]

In a corner, curled up in a fetal position, I cry: I SHOULD'VE CHOSEN FURRYDOM INSTEAD OF THE FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS REENACTMENT SOCIETY OR WHAT THE FRAK THIS SHIT IS.

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]

I blacked out and missed this whole thing.
On the plus side, I woke up in New Orleans. 

Trip actually clobbered you early in the night. One minute we're having a great time punting trolls back into the forest, talking about how sassafras oil is illegal but makes the best potato hash when that wily Dutchman just comes out of nowhere, screeching into his vocoder about "now everybody know, 'black superman,'" and does a vicious flying headbutt at you before anyone knew what was happening.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Ignoring Coyote's apparent desire to see me in the buff, I started to head upstairs to get a change of clothes. St. Daniel Ouellette is playing She Went to a Moustache Party and handing out fake moustaches. I forgot he was sainted after that incident in 2013. It makes sense that he's here, but was it me or LMNO that brought him? Maybe it was Villager. Where is Villager anyway? Never mind, I stink and I'm wet.

Lenin's tripping balls.

"You okay dude?"
"Det er alt feil. Alt det er feil. Hvorfor ser det sånn? Hvorfor er det å gjøre det?"

I look around for Waffle Iron. He's dancing with Daniel. When Saint Daniel decides to dance with you, there is no cutting in.

Sorry dude. I don't know what you're talking about. I'll come back for you.

I walk into the bedroom... Books... Bodhran... Brid's Cross over the door... Bucking Iron Maiden paraphenalia... Bee-less but B-ful Bedroom

This... this is my room... But.... We're not in Bost... we must Be... Boston Begins with B. By Breas' Big Black Bonce.... Everything is Bolded... Bhat bid Boyote bo bo be? eberything bas a b.....

Snap out of it Twid....

I feel funny but not in the bourbon way. Shake it off. I put on my Anarchangel t-shirt to remind me that I'm one step ahead of the b's.

So the question is... if this is not Boston, how is it that this is my room?

[EK WAFFLR]

... and time fell wanking to the floor. I hoist my skirt and do a slightly unstable riverdance on the table where all the Nigels and TGRR sit.
Surprisingly, I don't fall. I do, however, jump over the head of Nigel #45, crash land into a bucket of sangria, and decide to wear it as a hat.
"Now where did I put my banjolele", I think loudly to myself.
But before I can remember, Twid & Tripzilch start using my fucking bucket hat as a drum set. FUCK YOU GUYS. Seriously. At least gimme a drink first. I ain't expensive.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Also, hi Daniel!

(Daniel gets an alert everytime his name is mentioned online). Wish I was in Providence with you right now.

[Triple Zero]

(btw this is the new Open Bar thread and this is how it will go and it will last for 300 pages of FABULOUS and then we will start over)

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]

I only regretted slipping Twid and Lenin the cactus when he started taking off his clothes, but it was worth it to see people cower in terror as he shuffled into the outhouse, mumbling something about his room.

I went to follow him but heard some blood-curdling shrieks far off in the distance. "Oh god no, not the needles!" Cram's voice, I think, and I went back inside to resume squaring off with Vex.

Lenin wasn't handling it so well so I gave RWHN a call...

[Nephew Twiddleton]

This thread is so much win

[EK WAFFLR]

I escape from drum hell, and find my fellow countryman lying in a hip like so many discarded washcloths.
"oh dear, we need to give him something to drink. where's the mezcal?"
I see Net furiously giving me the cutthroat sign, but I write it off as a cultural difference in ways to say HELLOSIRFABULOUSPARTY INNIT?
I drag Lenin towards the Mezcal tent.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

I walked back down to Trip.

"OK, I'm ready."

"Uh ready for what?"

"I changed my clothes"

"Not.... entirely...."

I looked down. I was only wearing the Anarchangel shirt.

Well... everyone now knows that I am in fact a European, and not in anyway Jewish....