Do You Know What It Means To Fiend New Orleans? Part I

In the greenbitter whine of ErinGoBraugh morn, our heroes and such blather hangovered in a Crescent City hideaway, soon to rebirth. Amerigo suffered from yawnflush, mostly because he dithered with the hottle extremis, and Pierre balked at movements galore because his melon cracked open, leaving shards knifing outward furious. Charles keyed in the lowhang smokeroom hack from st. elsewhere, engines ablaze. Time was prime rocksteady.

So Charles said, "Merry ErinGoBraugh! I have been interviewed for approven Crescent City teacherhero just now and have thusly TigerWoodsed the poor questions into the merry hole. Sleep is not Optimus Prime, my heroes. Noon breaks mostly, rocksteady we mostly must."

Porcelained Amerigo echoes out, "Foolish interviewer, didn't know storm repeat this morning you. Permanent vacation must appeal to Mardi Gras instincts, huh Charles? No winter iccumin in. Just bayou and children. Congrats!"

Charles replied, "Indeed. In the Falltime, down like leaves Charles will go to be the Crescent classroom hero with a bonafide whoreship vidastyle to boot. But Amerigo, slumper not. Pierre, render fat. Risedough your bodies. Rigormorole we now blaze with bagpipe charm."

Pierre, frowndown on beddyby, spakes "Anight has thusly rocked, Amerigo and me. You slumpered tightly with morn dreams of teacherhero impressives. Succeed, por course. But resty possess you. Kitkat us for a meantime hence. Headpound knives hatorade on Pierre."

Charles sashays tableward in this fauxtelroom Bourbon, past infinite bedtimes of Amerigo and Pierre (now queenlying each) and resuscitated the hottle of namesake Jameson at the whipcrackcrack of 11am. Upwards turned glug with fire finish met with bedwise groans. Charles continued, "My lastnight respite was necessary for morning teacherhero impressives, yes. But anight, you both obviously befriended our good friend Dionysus, while yesrested I. No worries. It is St. Patrick that will soulguide you hereafter amen."

Dragknuckles Amerigo insisted on colder climes of flushroom tiles. Pierre girthed and bumbledore to the clothed fenestrates and pulled back to engage holy light and the underbooze of Bourbon Street. Namesake Jameson kissed lips in musky rapture as Charles blared eyes on whiteflake ceiling.

Charles next denuded from coattie and the fauxtel room was triforced into impending cocoonburst of teacherknights. Amerigo socked himself. Pierre tossed his melon through a T-shirt, mouthbreathing still. Charles laces Chucks, then yesses, "This drunkparade wenches Pirate Bars, you diggem. Fairy absinthe shocks veins on mornings where deathhurt must clark kent itself for superhero greenbeer connoiseurs. Now once armoralled, let us go..".