Brainmares vol. the 13th part 7654893029854856783: Jason Backtraces Your Emails

the bar around the corner from my house on St. Patrick's day. the right side of the bar has been sealed off with fiber glass bricks. It's damp and smoky, like an opium den. copious amounts of beautiful women, all with dark hair and near vampire white skin, drunkenly stumble around the fog. One of them resembles a young Angelina Jolie (when she was still mega shapely). She falls next to me while trying to get into a lawn chair, and i help her up. Nothing happens, because apprently she has dated my younger brother. I go outside. the parking lot has been converted into an extension of the bar; smoky, doors leading to bathrooms. a man who resembles an extra-hairy Danny DeVito is selling tapes of a comedian i swear i remember, but whose name escapes me. He won't tell me the comedian's name, but he tries to make a grand riddle out of it, by presenting me with a bunch of documents and receipts that are supposed to unlock the answer. I figure it out, and the comedian is revealed to be my 12th grade history teacher. Across the lot, a lame ass Improv group (is there any other kind?) is attempting to use comedy to get laid, but no one is biting. There jokes are about how handsome they are or something. no one cares.