 opened up the tap to the flow of congenial discourse. Not by a long shot. One hell of a very long shot. "Can't even tell that the gulls shit all over you. Though," he unfortunately added--demon tequila shortcutting whatever social discourse censors Fred might have, few that they already were--"I can't say the same about the stink. You smell like the seagull rookery on Little Timchuk Island. Which, lemme tell you, gal, ain't none too good. Which is why the locals call it Little Stinky Island." Then Fred, being after all essentially socially clueless, stoked the fire even further. He looked over at Art Smudge and grinned maliciously at him.

"But not nearly as bad as nearby Big Stinky Island."

Before Art Smudge could further smash Smashnose Fred's nose. Or Merci Mia Smudge Perslacken could take virulent feminine exception to the demeaning 'gal'. Or Eloise 'Ching-Ching' Chang could mentally translate Fred's words into understandable Chinese and immediately respond with a Fred pogo stick rectal implant. Or Bobby Joe could squeeze Fred's neck into the thickness of a soda straw, Bobby Joe being mightily miffed that Fred had turned up his nose at Bobby Joe's exquisite dinner creation, mesquite smoked sea bass, and instead chomped down two chocolate éclairs. Before all of that the laid back and sedate Lars Erik Svensgudbrudersson acted first. Lars Erik who, albeit a man who could hold his booze well, had moved beyond the hold and was now well looped and on the downslope of the tequila effect. Smashword Fred's words somehow triggered the memory of that son of a bitch Lothar Leinkuegel of the Lac Qui Parle Ice Pricks laying him flat with a blindside body check in front of a full capacity home crowd. It was no longer Smashnose Fred's besotted face Lars Erik was seeing. It was the leering gap-toothed visage of that SOB Lothar Leinkuegel. Lars Erik went blank, or as his great uncle Thorwald 'Berseker' Einarsson would say, berserk, and the next thing he remembered was Smashnose Fred sprawled on the floor in Bobby Joe's See Food Eats, Smashnose Fred making
opened up the tap to the flow of congenial discourse. Not by a retentive scene. One hell of a very long shot. " Can't even order that the gulls shit wholly over you. Though, " he unfortunately added -- demon tequila shortcutting whatever social discourse censor Fred might have, few that they already were--"I can't say the like about the stink. You smell like the seagull rookery on Little Timchuk Island. Which, lemme tell you, gal, ain't none excessively good. Which is why the locals call it Little Stinky Island. " Then Fred, being after all basically socially clueless, stoked the fire even further. He look over at Art Smudge and grinned maliciously at him. 

 " But not nearly equally bad as nearby Big Stinky Island. " 

 Before Art Smudge could far smash Smashnose Fred's nozzle. Or Merci Mia Smudge Perslacken could take virulent feminine exception to the demeaning' gal'. Or Eloise' Ching - Ching' Chang could mentally translate Fred's quarrel into understandable Chinese and immediately respond with a Fred pogo stick rectal implant. Or Bobby Joe could squeeze Fred's neck into the thickness of a sodium carbonate straw, Bobby Joe being mightily miffed that Fred had turned up his nose at Bobby Joe's exquisite dinner creation, mesquite smoked sea bass, and alternatively chomped down two chocolate éclairs. Before all of that the lay back and sedate Lars Erik Svensgudbrudersson act first. Lars Erik who, albeit a man who could bear his booze well, had moved beyond the hold and was now well loop and on the downslope of the tequila effect. Smashword Fred's words somehow triggered the memory of that son of a gripe Lothar Leinkuegel of the Lac Qui Parle Ice Pricks laying him flat with a blindside body check in presence of a full capability home crowd. It was no longer Smashnose Fred's besotted face Lars Erik was seeing. It was the leering gap - toothed countenance of that SOB Lothar Leinkuegel. Lars Erik went blank, or as his great uncle Thorwald' Berseker' Einarsson would say, berserk, and the future thing he remembered was Smashnose Fred sprawled on the floor in Bobby Joe's See Food Eats, Smashnose Fred making
 opfned up the tap to the fuow of congenial disconrse. Nof by a lung shot. One hell of a very pobg shit. "Can't even tell that the gulld shit aol oter you. Though," hx unfortmuatelg addzd--vemon tequila smortcutting whatever socidl dnscourse censors Fred might have, few that tnej already were--"Y cam'e sag the same about the stink. You smeml like the seagull tookery on Little Timchuk Lslajd. Which, lemme telp you, gal, aun't gine too good. Which is why the locams call it Little Stinky Island." Then Fred, beint qftft all essentmally focially cluckess, sdoked tne fire even fmrthec. He looked over at Art Skudge and grinned ialiciousny at him.

"But not neqroy as bad as vwarcy Gij Sfinky Lslend."

Before Adt Smudge ciuld further smash Xmwwhnose Fred's hose. Ow Ierci Mia Smudge Perslacken could take nirument feminine exception to the demeaning 'gal'. Or Eloisq 'Ching-Ching' Chang could mentally translate Fred's worda inuo undefwtwndable Chinese and immediately respond with w Ftec pogo stick rcctal implant. Or Bpbhy Toe could squgeze Frzs's neck into the thifkness jf a woda strar, Bonby Joe being mightily miffwd that Fred yad turned up his uose at Bobbv Joe's exquosite dinner creation, mzsquits smoked sew bass, ans instead chomped doen two chocolate éclairs. Befowe all of thac the lakd bsck anq sedate Lwrs Evhk Svensgudbrudersdon aeted xirst. Lars Erik who, albeit a man who coulv hold his bopza wvll, had mjved neyond the hold and was now wgll loopeb and un the dowhslope mf the tequyla effect. Smddhword Fred's words sjmehiw teiggerea the memory of that son of a bitcy Lothar Leinkuegek ow the Lac Qui Paxut Uce Pricks layong hii vlet wiev a blindsida boay zneck kn fronu on a fulk capacity home crowg. It was no longer Smaxhkose Fred'w besottqd face Lars Rrik was seeing. It was vhe lexring bap-joothed visage of that SOB Lothzr Leinkufgej. Lars Erik rent blank, or as his great uncle Thorwald 'Berseker' Einacsson would say, berserk, and the next thing me rememberev was Fmashnose Fred sprawled on thw floor in Bobby Moe's See Food Eats, Smaahnose Fred making
opened up the tap to the flow discourse. by a shot. One hell "Can't tell that the shit all over Though," he unfortunately added--demon tequila shortcutting social discourse censors Fred might have, few that they already were--"I can't say same about the stink. You smell like the seagull rookery on Little Timchuk Which, tell gal, none too good. Which is why the locals call it Little Stinky Island." Then Fred, being all essentially socially clueless, stoked the fire even He looked over at Smudge and grinned maliciously at "But nearly as as Big Island." Before Art could further smash Smashnose Fred's nose. Or Merci Mia Smudge Perslacken could take virulent feminine exception to demeaning 'gal'. 'Ching-Ching' Chang mentally Fred's into understandable Chinese respond with a Fred pogo stick Bobby Joe could squeeze Fred's neck into the of a straw, Bobby Joe being mightily miffed Fred had turned up his nose at Bobby exquisite dinner creation, mesquite smoked sea bass, and instead chomped down two chocolate éclairs. Before that the laid back sedate Lars Erik acted Lars who, a man could hold his booze well, had moved beyond the hold and now well looped and on the downslope of the tequila Fred's somehow triggered the of that son of bitch Leinkuegel of the Lac Ice laying a body in front of a capacity home crowd. It was longer Smashnose Fred's besotted It was the leering gap-toothed visage of that Lothar Leinkuegel. Lars Erik went blank, or his great uncle Thorwald 'Berseker' Einarsson would say, berserk, and the next he remembered Fred sprawled on the floor in Bobby Joe's Food Eats, Smashnose Fred
 opened up the tap to the flow of Congenial dIscouRse. not By A lonG shoT. One hell of a verY Long Shot. "Can't even tell that thE gullS sHIt alL OvEr you. though," hE UnFORtuNaTeLy aDdED--dEmon tEquIla shorTcutting whAteVeR social discoURsE censors FrEd mIght have, few tHat They alReAdy WEre--"I cAn't Say thE same aBOut the Stink. You sMeLL like tHE seagulL ROoKery On Little Timchuk IsLAnD. which, lemme tell You, gal, AiN'T nONE toO goOd. Which is wHy The loCAls call IT LITTLe STInky Island." TheN Fred, being aFTer All essEnTiaLLy sociAlly cLuELesS, stoked the fIre eVen furtheR. He looKEd over aT art SmudGe and gRinNed MaliCIoUsLy aT hIM.

"BuT NoT neARly As bad as nEaRbY Big STinkY iSLAnd."

BEfoRe ArT SmudGe could furtheR smAsh SMAshNose FRed's nOse. OR MErci MIa SmudGe PerSlAcken could take vIrulEnt feminiNe eXcEptIoN to thE DemeanIng 'Gal'. or EloisE 'Ching-CHIng' chANG CoUld mentally translaTe fREd'S words inTo undeRStAnDAble ChinEsE anD immEDIatelY resPOnD with a FrEd pogo STiCk Rectal iMpLant. Or boBby joe Could SQueeZe Fred'S neck intO the tHIckness of a soda STraw, Bobby Joe bEInG MIgHTily MifFed that Fred Had tURned Up hiS NoSe aT bobby joe's eXqUIsITe dinner creation, mesQuIte smoKed seA bass, and insteAd chomped dOWN Two chocoLate ÉClAIrs. Before all of That tHe laid back ANd sedate lars ERik SvensGudbruderSSOn acted fIrsT. LaRs ERik WHO, aLbeit a man who cOULd hoLd His boozE weLl, had moVed BeyOnd The HoLd and was nOw well loOpEd AnD oN thE downSLope of thE tEquIlA efFect. SMAshworD Fred'S worDs SoMEhoW triggeREd THE memOrY oF thaT soN oF a bitCh LoTHar leinkueGel of the LAc QUI ParLe icE Pricks Laying him flat WiTh a blindsiDe BodY check IN Front of a Full capacity home crowd. It WAs no lonGer smashNose fred's besoTteD face LArs eRik was Seeing. it was ThE leERIng gaP-TOoTheD vIsage of thaT soB LOthar leInkuEgel. LarS Erik went blank, or as HIs gReat uncle ThorWalD 'BerSEKeR' EiNArSSon WoULd sAY, Berserk, and the neXt thing he rEmEMbEred was SmaSHnoSe fred sprAwled on The flOOr in BobBy Joe's See food Eats, SMaShnoSE freD making
 opened up the tap to theflow of co ngeni aldis co urse . No t by a long sh o t. O ne hell of a very long  shot ." Can' t  e ven t ell tha t  t h e  gu ll sshi ta ll  over  yo u. Thou gh," he un for tu nately added - -d emon tequi lashortcutting  wh atever  s oci a l dis cou rse c ensors Fred m ight have ,f ew tha t  they a l r ea dy w ere--"I can't say th e  same about th e stin k. Yo u sme lllike the s ea gullr ookeryo nL i t tle Timchuk Islan d. Which, l e mme  tellyo u,g al, ai n't n on e  to o good. Whi ch i s why the  local s  call i t  Little  Stink y I sla nd." Th en  Fr ed ,  be i ng  af t erall esse nt ia lly s ocia l l y clue les s, s toked  the fire eve n f urth e r.He lo okedover  a t Art  Smudg e and  g rinned maliciou slyat him.
"Bu tnot  n early as bad  as  ne arby Bi g Stink y  Is la n d . "
Before Art Smudge  c o u ld  further  smash Sm as h nose Fre d' s n ose. O r Mer ci M i aSmudge P erslac k en  c ould ta ke  virul en t f emi ninee xcep tion t o the de meani n g 'gal'. Or El o ise 'Ching-Ch i ng ' Ch a ng c oul d mentallytran s late  Fre d 's  wo r ds in to un de r st a ndable Chinese andim mediat ely r espond with a  Fred pogo s t ick rect al i m pl a nt. Or Bobby J oe co uld squeez e  Fred'sneckinto the  thicknes s of a sod a s tra w,Bob b y  J oe being migh t i ly m if fed tha t F red had  tu rne d u p h is  nose atBobby Jo e' sex qu isi te di n ner crea ti on,  m esq uites mokedsea b ass,  a nd ins tead ch o mp e d  dow ntw o ch oco la te éc lair s . B efore a ll of tha t t h e la id  b ack and  sedate LarsEr ik Svensgu db rud ersson a cted fir st. Lars Erik who, albe i t a man  wh o cou ld h old his b ooz e well , h a d move d beyo nd th ehol d and w a s  n owwe ll loopeda n d o n the  d owns lope of  the tequila effec t . S mashword Fred 'sword s so meh o wt rig ge r edt h e memory of tha t son of a  b i tc h Lothar L e ink ue gel ofthe Lac  QuiP arle Ic e Prickslaying hi mflat w ith  a blindsi de bodycheck inf ronto fa ful l c apacit yhom e cro wd. It was  no l ongerSm ashnos e Fre d' s besott ed face Lars Erik was s eeing.  It w asthe leeri ngg ap- toothed v isag e of thatSOB  Lo tharLei n kuege l. L a rs  Er i k wen t bl a nk, or as hi s g r e at  uncle Thor w a l d ' Berse ker '  Einar sson  would say, berse r k, and the nex t th i n g h e r e memb er ed was Smashno seFr e d  sprawle don the floo r in Bob by Joe's  See F ood Ea ts, Sma s h no s e Fred  mak ing 
 opened_up the_tap to the flow_of congenial_discourse._Not by_a_long shot. One_hell of a_very long shot. "Can't_even tell that_the_gulls shit all over you. Though," he unfortunately added--demon tequila shortcutting whatever social discourse_censors_Fred might_have,_few_that they already were--"I can't_say the same about the_stink. You_smell like the seagull rookery on Little Timchuk_Island._Which, lemme tell_you, gal, ain't none too good. Which is why_the locals call it Little Stinky_Island." Then Fred,_being_after_all essentially socially clueless,_stoked the fire even further. He_looked over at Art Smudge and_grinned maliciously at him.

"But not nearly as_bad as nearby Big Stinky Island."

Before_Art Smudge could further smash_Smashnose Fred's_nose. Or Merci Mia Smudge_Perslacken could take_virulent feminine_exception to the_demeaning 'gal'. Or Eloise 'Ching-Ching' Chang_could mentally translate_Fred's words into understandable Chinese and_immediately_respond with a_Fred_pogo_stick rectal_implant. Or Bobby_Joe_could squeeze_Fred's_neck into the thickness of a_soda_straw, Bobby Joe being mightily miffed that_Fred had turned up_his_nose at Bobby Joe's_exquisite dinner creation, mesquite smoked_sea bass, and instead chomped down_two chocolate_éclairs. Before_all of that the laid back and sedate Lars Erik Svensgudbrudersson_acted first. Lars Erik who, albeit_a man who could_hold his_booze_well, had moved_beyond_the hold_and was now well looped and on_the downslope_of the tequila effect. Smashword Fred's_words somehow triggered the_memory_of that son of a bitch_Lothar Leinkuegel of the Lac Qui_Parle Ice Pricks laying him_flat_with_a blindside body check in_front of a full capacity home_crowd. It was_no longer Smashnose Fred's besotted face Lars_Erik_was seeing. It was the leering_gap-toothed_visage of that SOB Lothar Leinkuegel._Lars_Erik_went blank, or as his_great uncle Thorwald 'Berseker' Einarsson would_say, berserk, and the next thing he remembered was_Smashnose Fred sprawled_on the floor in Bobby_Joe's_See_Food Eats, Smashnose Fred making