The aftermath

The bar was trashed after our New Year's Eve party.  There was shirts, jeans and one leg of pantyhose hanging from the lights and panties shoved in the pockets of the pool tables.  I found earrings in our pretzel bowls and a red high heel shoe in the ice machine.  Chairs were all lined up in a row that stretched the length of the bar and random articles of clothing littered the floor around them.  

I've heard there are a few busted lips among the Royals, no one remembers how it happened.

I have a hickeys all over my body, and a nipple ring has suddenly sprouted from right nipple...there's rumers that the brownies were spiked with something extra special....

The Queen walked out of the bar topless and screaming 'Down with bloody Red Queen'.

Something gooey was smeared all over the stripper pole.  Have you ever cleaned one of those mother fuckers?  Whatever was on it was not easy to get off.  Luckily I wore my hazmat suit to prevent me from catching anything from these whores as I slid up and down the pole.  Hey it's the best way to clean it shut your pie hole.

There isn't a drop of alcohol in the bar....these bitches are leaches when it comes to booze!

Someone wrote 'Cunt Blisters and Middle Finger are going down!' on the back wall in blood red finger nail polish.

Oh and the lava lamps are empty, all 20 of them....

As I clean up this fucking mess and order more gods damned booze, I can't help but grin.  The Royal's sure can party.