Barbeque & A 'n' R&R

Yesterday, I found myself at a hastily organised barbeque. While it was organised quickly, years of barbeque organisation on the part of the organiser truly paid off, and fun and a full stomach was had by all. The position of Head Barbequeer was allotted responsibly, which is of crucial importance. The Head was a grizzled veteran of barbequing, and the undercooked mess I had assumed all barbeque to be was disproved magnificently. If either Organiser or Head Barbequeer are reading this, my thanks and compliments, it was a wonderful night.

It was a fairly dynamic affair, I turned up with my ACREstablemate Dafydd, and the rest of the barbeque (apart from the Organiser) consisted of people I had met once or twice before and a number I'd never met. This would usually mean that slight awkwardness and heel-scuffing was to follow, but it turned into a really nice night. The dynamism was added to further as people left early and were replaced by latecomers, meaning that fresh energy was always being added. A few old friends turned up (for me) unexpectedly, and it was excellent to have a catch-up.

As the night wore on, it felt as though Dafydd and I took over the conversation more and more with fairly full on filthy topics. It got to the point of hysteria a number of times, and laughing to the point of not being able to breathe was further intensified by the nearby campfire. I very much enjoyed this inappropriate improvised vulgar double act, and it was a delight to see people we didn't know really enjoying our puerility, only slightly more delightful than seeing the disapproving looks of those who weren't.

Two barbequees in particular did not enjoy these 'japes'.

Two American transfer-students, one male, one female, were also at the barbeque, as acquaintances another of the guests had made whilst travelling. They were amiable and talkative for the most part, although something eventually went awry. My back was first raised when the man, during a discussion on the idiosyncratic differences between the UK and the US, inquired:

"So, this may be a weird question but you haven't got anything strange like having made gay marriage legal over here have you?"

I was slightly taken aback, but Dafydd saved the day magnificently with his instant reply:
"Yeah it's not just legal over here, it's encouraged!".

Having misjudged us quite significantly, he was completely wrong footed and he quickly fell silent with the look of a non-swimmer caught in a mortifyingly realistic recreation of Waterworld plastered over his fundamentalist Christian face. They were full-on you're-all-going-to-hell-and-I-might-be-aswell-for-being-at-this-bbq Christians. They were lovely, apart from their lazy, hateful beliefs.

They didn't much enjoy anything I said.

My favourite discussion I instigated that they definitely wouldn't have enjoyed began with me struggling to get my words out. I don't know if this happens to other people, or whether I occasionally fall into some sort of mania where my own ideas amuse myself to the point where I have trouble getting the idea out. If only people would start to think I am as funny as I find myself (occasionally). When I finally managed to get my sentence out, I began an hour long experiment in vulgar tedium. I asked:

"When Spiderman ejaculates, does it come out as a web?".

At the time, I was bent double laughing. It was probably my enjoyment, rather than the actual idea which made Dafydd join in. It was at that point that the American asked "Is he serious?", which made me laugh all the more. Yes, I was being serious. I wanted to know whether, at the point of climax, the fictional superhero Spiderman's fictional superpowers stretch even to his ejaculate. Of course, he should have known I was being facetious, because Spiderman's webs aren't a part of his powers, they are chemical tools loaded onto Peter Parker's wrist, hence how he can run out of webs. Pedantry would have killed my fun, but he wasn't anywhere near pedantic enough.

What I have learnt about myself is that I am an incredibly single minded individual when I have discovered a new comedic formula, and if I am in the right mood I will relentlessly plough that furrow until it is empty, and I am exhausted. The new formula was superheroes + ejaculation = amusing sperm. I was delighted, the Christians less so.

My favourite picks are these:

Cyclops - Power: Shoots lasers from his single eye = self-explanatory.
Captain America - Power: Not really sure, super strength? = shoots twirling shields out of his peep.
Rogue - Power: stealing other people's powers = steals a man wang and does them with their own bits
Iron Man - Power: iron suit = normal semen
Captain Planet: Power: he is Green (as in looking after the environment) = pure white semen which he shoots over oil-covered seals which washes them clean (also dolphins).

As we ran out of steam, the topic changed and we veered away from such superheroic filth. But as the other chatted about something knew, I came up with a final, delightful example. I patiently, callously waited until the conversation petered out, and in the ensuing silence I flung my final attempt in the direction of the forlorn Americans;

"Does The Thing spunk bricks?".

I am delighted by myself.

As the night wore on everyone left, the christians seemed to harbor no ill-will towards me, and I had enjoyed myself thoroughly. My petty attempts to make the two uncomfortable, and it was incredibly petty, had worked, and they had conducted themselves in a christianly way and turned the other cheek. Luckily for them The Thing wasn't there, or he's have seen their other cheek and come down on them like a ton of bricks.

Though none of us lived in the house the final three contenders in the garden (I am watching way too much Royal Rumble) were me, Daf and the Head Barbequeer. Daf indulged in his favoured past time of tending the fire, which therefore burned beautifully for hours on end, and we sat outside idly philosophising, discussing old video games and appreciating the moon.

We got home irresponsibly late, and I awoke responsibly early, so my exhaustion is all to do with responsibility. Response-silly-ability. I am tired.

www.theacre.net
@adamgilder
acrecomedy@gmail.com