In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep

[venta]

Another year, another Whitby.

I ended up driving north on my own this year, which was probably for the best. The sacks of black chickens packed in the boot made a terrible racket all the way up the M1. Fortunately, all the squawk had gone out of them by the time I reached the moor road, so it seemed safe to throw in a sheep or two, since they were just wandering round. I've always found that the key to a good Whitby is plenty of sacrificial animals.

Once I'd caught up with davefish and keris we had a meal at the Mysterious Vibrating Table, and then dispatched ourselves to lurk in the Elsinore. I chatted to snow_leopard for a while over pints of blood, before leaving for a nearby cave where I'd heard the vodka was cheap and the heroin free.

I didn't get back to the flat til the following lunchtime, just as Davefish and Keris were crawling out of their coffins. Would you believe, in the excitment of arrival the previous day we'd forgotten to anoint the doorframes with chicken entrails ? Obviously, we sorted that out pretty quickly and then made ourselves a fine brunch of bats on toast.

Things looked a little boring after that, so we entertained ourselves by putting babies on spikes and practised moping languidly against walls. Just as we were completing our three-hour make-up session ready to go out for the evening, a huge, furry beast landed on my head and refused to leave. I thought I'd make the best of it and head out to the Spa anyway - I don't think anyone noticed.

The following morning we strolled out reasonably early in the afternoon, biting any of the locals who came too close. We passed a leisurely few hours reclining on gravestones and reading Emily Dickinson to each other, before making a quick trip to Makro for another evening's worth of eyeliner.

Post-Spa on Saturday night we had planned a spot of light goat sodomy, but by the time we'd returned to the flat we'd picked up kneeshooter - and he's vegetarian, so doesn't approve of such things. We settled for treating a chocolate cake very meanly instead. The weekend was starting to catch up with me at this point and I'm afraid I dozed off, hanging upside-down from the curtain rail.

Keris walked up the wall to wake me on Sunday, and reminded me that we had naranek, blooddoll3 and Angi coming round for brunch and demon worship. We had just enough black chickens left for everyone, but I'm afraid dribbly wax pentagrams lack a certain gravitas when you get bits of pain au chocolat mixed up in them.

We had something of a violent disagreement on Sunday evening over whether to hold an orgy or go on a killing spree. In the end, to prevent any unpleasantness, we compromised on going to the pub and having a few quiet pints (and slightly more low-budget pornography than expected).

All in all, a thoroughly satisfactory weekend.

Comments

[venta.livejournal.com]

the other Liz

Er, you do realise there's only one of me, don't you :)

Some weekends I wear more black than others, but the jokes never get any better.

[shrydar.livejournal.com]

the jokes never get any better

Good good!

It's more that there are events you go to and scenes you are part of that sound like a lot of fun - it would have been interesting to experience some of it first hand.

I'm wearing more black than I used to, but my inner goth is still repressed and mournful :)