Velociworld

I am an Idiot

What began as a joke has become a compulsion in the fever swamp of my brain. I think I will, nay, I must, travel to Whigham on the 27th to partake of the Rattlesnake Roundup. Armed with nothing but a jockstrap and a bottle of Early Times (tourniquet and disinfectant, respectively).

I don't think the concept of rooms for hire has reached that hamlet yet, however I'm sure there are rooms two miles away in Cairo (that's pronounced Kay-ro, to differentiate it from the Egyptian city of heathen cutthroats).

Then again, how much fun would it be to approach the most mutated individual you could find at the snake pens and ask Can I spend the night wif you? Plenty fun, I'm thinking.

Added bonus: the Thigpen Trail and Old Magnolia Road are only ten miles away in Thomasville. The Thigpen Trail was an old Indian trail the British upgraded in 1703 from North Carolina to Florida in order to wage war on the Spanish Papists, those bastards. The Old Magnolia Road was, well, something akin to that. So there's a venue to drink what Early Times isn't poured over the snakebites.

I'd liveblog it, but I reckon the only signal I'll get there is a smoke signal, announcing my grievous scalping. How many puffs declare He cried like a baby? Better bone up on my smoke signals.