Solar Joint Stories: The Tale of the Med-Hub Hound
Saving Lives and Getting Sloshed...
There’s a time-honored tradition in the solar joint Doc’s Oasis; the toast. Only it isn’t your normal well-wishing over a tall class of amber-colored ale. The toast is a time to tell stories. To rant, to rave, to regale. Talk of grand triumphs and complete failures. All unfiltered, and all in the company of friends. This is one of those stories.
Look, the secret to not being a lightweight is simple. Practice.
Practice, practice, practice. Drink yourself ‘til you’re pissing brandywine or ol’ Doc tells you “c’mon cat, lay off sauce.” Now the story I once heard is someone had gotten so full on liquid bread, he blew up. I don’t mean like he threw it up or he was hitting one of ‘dem squealy-high notes the metal kids go’on up and sing on that there stage. I mean some guy stuck a wick up this wolf’s ass, lit ‘er, and the hound just blew the fuck up.
Scout’s honor, I had to clean up that mess.
Well…you see MedHub is a volunteer gig for the kind of folks with strong stomachs. Hence why I’m on my fifth ale and I still walk a straight line with both heels broken off my boots. You see shit, man. I mean, you see shit!