Treepusher wrote:
I finished up mopping the Ministry floors early last night, and with nothing else to do, GoGo van Gogh-Gogh (the Ministry of Mayhem's talented Artist-in-Residence) and I ended up sharing a bottle of the Martian's Plutonium Joy Juice. I know better than to have more than a single shot of the stuff, while GoGo has developed something of a tolerance over the years and has no such compunctions. He's a sot, to be blunt, and quite liberal with his intake. No one seems to mind, as a hangover apparently helps him paint.
I can't recall how we ended up sitting on the floor in the blackness of the Ministry's dungeon, singing "Hotel California" and "Desperado" (both with mumbled lyrics--who can remember all the words, especially with Joy Juice on board) at the top of our lungs, arms around each other's shoulders. The singing was loud enough (or bad enough) to attract unwanted attention. Footsteps sounded, and a Dark Lady appeared in a beam of moonlight shining through the room's single tiny window. With a disapproving look, she glared at us, shook her head, gestured at the stairs leading back to the main floor, and said, "Scoot."
We scooted.
I finished up mopping the Ministry floors early la... (
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