Nick the Dragon Slayer was an official in King Arthur's court. He had a long-standing obsession to nuzzle the beautiful Queen's voluptuous breasts, but he knew the penalty for this would be death.
One day he revealed his secret desire to his colleague, Horatio the Physician, who was the King's chief doctor. Horatio the Physician exclaimed that he could arrange for Nick the Dragon Slayer to satisfy his desire, but it would cost him 1,000 gold coins to arrange it. Without hesitation, Nick the Dragon Slayer readily agreed to the scheme.
The next day, Horatio the Physician made a batch of itching powder and poured a little bit into the Queen's brassiere while she bathed. Soon after she dressed, the itching commenced and grew intense.
Upon being summoned to the royal chambers to address this incident, Horatio the Physician informed the King and Queen that only a special saliva, if applied for four hours, would cure this type of itch, and that tests had shown that only the saliva of Nick the Dragon Slayer would work as the antidote to cure the itch.
The King quickly summoned Nick the Dragon Slayer. Horatio the Physician then slipped Nick the Dragon Slayer the antidote for the itching powder, which he quickly put into his mouth, and for the next four hours, Nick worked passionately on the Queen's voluptuous and magnificent breasts.
The Queen's itching was eventually relieved, and Nick the Dragon Slayer left satisfied and touted as a hero.
Upon returning to his chamber, Nick the Dragon Slayer found Horatio the Physician demanding his payment of 1,000 gold coins. With his obsession now satisfied, Nick the Dragon Slayer could not have cared less. Knowing that Horatio the Physician could never report this matter to the King, he shooed Horatio the Physician away with no payment made.
The next day, Horatio the Physician slipped a massive dose of the same itching powder into the King's loincloth. So the King quickly summoned Nick the Dragon Slayer....
Your dad had colored jeans before you did and he has the red dye on his legs to prove it. Any douchenozzle can slide their walking sticks into a pair of blue jeans, but it takes a bold man to wave his dick in the face of convention and rock a pair of leg coverings so bold that it would start a jean coloring revolution. With his red jeans hanging on him tighter than your mom would, he would lock lady looks into his lower parts as he walked triumphantly into fashion history.
So hipsters, next time you’re looking like a pack of highlighters vomited on you, remember this…
You’d be sliding your sad ass into blue jeans if it wasn’t for the fact that your dad blew the doors off the denim color game.
Big Thanks to Alice H. for the amazing photo of her dad and his friends.
On 3/06/2011 martym wrote:
>When your gear grows eyebrows and starts talking to you, I reckon you're up the creek..
My gear sometimes 'has hairs on it' (regarding placement), and often talks to me while I am solo aiding, though the creak is often missing! ~> Does that count for anything? It sounds to me like you don't understand creaky-gear-speak!
On 3/06/2011 hero wrote:
>>When your gear grows eyebrows and starts talking to you, I reckon you're
>>up the creek..
>You've obviously never climbed on acid. eyebrows is the least of your
The fact that this picture is beige and not "colours man" is direct evidence that no acid was involved.
Speaking of which I just remembered I have those mushies drying on top of the fridge.