The wheel ticked around and around. Behind me, about one hundred drunk campers chanting "four!"; the nudie run. It didn't matter though, almost all the outcomes meant getting naked, and the ones that didn't meant I was "Das Booting" or even worse. The wheel kept spinning, the numbers flew through my head, and even I was hoping for a four. Four...five...six, what the fuck was six? Switch cloths? And just like that the Stokie next to me was taking off his clothes while another grabbed a beer bong that had been on the ground since it was used last. After funneling what must have been my six beer of the morning I undressed, stood ass naked on podium and began to drunkenly put on his clothes.
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MEL HAMPTON"on the loose" Archives |