Louisiana Anime and Gaming Forums - Social Network
Why Peaches?
The following is the ABSOLUTELY true story of why my name was switched to Peaches. Any resemblance to persons or places is on purpose because that's really how it happened.
I recently went to Georgia on a top secret mission with the local DQC (Drag Queen Commission). Their purpose was to investigate allegations that Atlanta's fashion had gotten out of hand. Kitty, our biochemical weapons specialist, was prepared to take out the whole city if it came to that. No one likes resorting to violence, but must I really say implicitly how important fashion is to the DQC?
I was approached first by the fashion swat team (a special division of the fashion police) because of my expertise on slogan tshirts and my special super power of being straight. Don't knock it. It's getting rare in the fashion world. They needed me to read all the slogan shirts and make sure that "Princess" shirts and "Dirty Slut" shirts were on the right girls. I was given permission to shoot on sight anyone wearing sweat pants that said "Juicy", and I could resort to more extreme measures if we ran into any Apple Bottom jeans that resembled watermelons. What's so bad about truth in advertising, ladies??? Really!
Just as our Native American agent, Sparkling Boxers, was about to fly us over the drop zone, he gave one last word of encouragement, "Ladies, remember that what we do is not for ourselves, but for fashion everywhere. I give each of you something to help you on your journey. Use it wisely, and if you lose your way, just remember to follow the labels.
yadda yadda yadda, three days later the body count had gotten pretty high, and Kitty was ready to send in the nukes. I had forced her to make a deal with the local DQC that a dance off was the only way. I knew my mad skills in DDR would come in handy.. well, I thought they would. Then they put us in a techno club, and I was up against Techno Viking with nothing but my satchel. I look in it to see what Sparkling Boxers had left me, and saw only a Peach. I knew what I had to do.
I danced furiously, peach in hand. I rolled it around like glowsticks in my hand. Just when I thought I had him where I wanted him, the peach slipped out of my hand and under my foot. I thrashed through the air and landed sorely on my face and ass at the same time. Don't ask me how, but it hurt nevertheless. Atlanta was saved, Techno Viking went back home a hero, and I burst into Sparkling Boxers' office, furious.
"Why would you do that to me? You were supposed to give me something to help me on my quest!"
"Don't blame me, Peaches. You were supposed to eat it when you got hungry. Who told you that you could dance?"
I recently went to Georgia on a top secret mission with the local DQC (Drag Queen Commission). Their purpose was to investigate allegations that Atlanta's fashion had gotten out of hand. Kitty, our biochemical weapons specialist, was prepared to take out the whole city if it came to that. No one likes resorting to violence, but must I really say implicitly how important fashion is to the DQC?
I was approached first by the fashion swat team (a special division of the fashion police) because of my expertise on slogan tshirts and my special super power of being straight. Don't knock it. It's getting rare in the fashion world. They needed me to read all the slogan shirts and make sure that "Princess" shirts and "Dirty Slut" shirts were on the right girls. I was given permission to shoot on sight anyone wearing sweat pants that said "Juicy", and I could resort to more extreme measures if we ran into any Apple Bottom jeans that resembled watermelons. What's so bad about truth in advertising, ladies??? Really!
Just as our Native American agent, Sparkling Boxers, was about to fly us over the drop zone, he gave one last word of encouragement, "Ladies, remember that what we do is not for ourselves, but for fashion everywhere. I give each of you something to help you on your journey. Use it wisely, and if you lose your way, just remember to follow the labels.
yadda yadda yadda, three days later the body count had gotten pretty high, and Kitty was ready to send in the nukes. I had forced her to make a deal with the local DQC that a dance off was the only way. I knew my mad skills in DDR would come in handy.. well, I thought they would. Then they put us in a techno club, and I was up against Techno Viking with nothing but my satchel. I look in it to see what Sparkling Boxers had left me, and saw only a Peach. I knew what I had to do.
I danced furiously, peach in hand. I rolled it around like glowsticks in my hand. Just when I thought I had him where I wanted him, the peach slipped out of my hand and under my foot. I thrashed through the air and landed sorely on my face and ass at the same time. Don't ask me how, but it hurt nevertheless. Atlanta was saved, Techno Viking went back home a hero, and I burst into Sparkling Boxers' office, furious.
"Why would you do that to me? You were supposed to give me something to help me on my quest!"
"Don't blame me, Peaches. You were supposed to eat it when you got hungry. Who told you that you could dance?"
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