IMPORTANT NEW NOTES FROM JUSTIN:
US Tour Day 193: Quick Washington, DC Update
Last night, oh last night. Justine came over again to hang out with Ellie and me. The drinking started early at Ellie's. We planned to go out dancing, but I knew we wouldn't make it. We said we were going to go out dancing every night that week and never once actually did it.
After preloading on coconut rum and cola we moseyed to Tim Tate's place at the end of the hall to see about including him in our evening. Tim is a glass artist in DC and recently earned the Mayor's Art Award for his contribution to the area art scene. Far more interesting than his art is his hilarious, charming nature. His stories pulled laughter from places in us we weren't aware of. Like a giant magnet, he drew everyone in the room to him.
And he was full of stories. He told us about how he ordered a monkey from the back of Monster Magazine in his youth and how it arrived at his childhood home in a shoebox.
Later he shared the story about this toy stuffed chicken that was stolen from his house at a housewarming party. He hadn't really noticed it was gone until a few days later he received a ransom note—the classic example with words cut out from magazines. With the note there were Polaroids of the chicken in dangerous situations—one for each day of the week the chicken had been missing. There was a picture of the chicken with a squirt gun pointed at its head; another snapshot showed the chicken trapped behind a fence.
As time went on, the chicken game only escalated. Months passed, and Tim got photos of the chicken all over the world—inside the White House, in Europe, posing with famous people, even underwater scuba diving. Our eyes teared up and our sides split open from the laughter as he showed us photo after photo and postcard after postcard, all tracking the chicken's exciting life. It's been almost four years now since the chicken was abducted. The problem is that it look like the chicken is having more fun than Tim is!
After hours of chatting and flirting and general silliness, we all said goodnight. I retired to Ellie's apartment, where I slipped out of my clothes and into the comforting embrace of an actual bed. [Original ending to the sentence: to climb her long, sweet tree and get myself tangled up in her branches.]
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