There are still aftershocks from the party... Today I found one the the pix of the girl with scabby knees online, along with a poem supposedly written by her.
bad poet, good times
We journeyed to a party with our smuggled drinks in hand.
We peed behind a building, and then on our knees did land.
My friend was fortunate to wear protective ripped blue jeans,
Whilst I a skirt had worn, and blood gushed forth—it was obscene!
Wow. Good thing our lawn has an automatic sprinkler system to wash away their sins the next morning...