“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Here we go, my first fully illustrated story.

Back in Morgantown we discovered that if you push really hard we could make beer bottle caps stick into the textured celing of our apartment.

We were bored, that's why.

Anyways, it looked like this:

It was thought by all to be pretty groovy.

So one day, my roommate Brian and I, seen in these archive photos:

Me:


Brian:



Decided to take our mothers, who were in town, out to lunch. While we were gone, two of our other roommates, Hammershmidt and our very own Rich Fucking Sanders, seen here:

Hammershmidt:


Rich:


Decided that the apartment wasn't quite homoerotic enough so they set about an apartment art project.

Brian's Mom was the first in the door.

Here's what she saw:


I'd like to say that the celing didn't stay that way for long, but the giant penis on the celing actually stayed up there for the rest of the semester.

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