Stamp Pad Hijinx

The year was 1991, the place was Stevens Point, Wisconsin and X24 and I were going out on the prowl for some primo woozle. While we were our chasing skirts we thought we'd promote our new fishing fan-'znie "Carp Angler". In the days before the internet we had to self-publish our prose at considerble expense to a limited audience that didn't want to pay for it.

Our marketing tactic was a rubber stamp with the PO Box info for the fishing tabloid. With this tool I could efficiently deface public and private property with the information that would ultimately earn us about twelve bucks.

X24 and I were in Buffy's, a big room crowed shoulder-to-shoulder with beer and drunken college losers, including us. I ambitiously stamped the ad all over their bathroom, over uninals, in stalls on the walls, you name it. I stamped a drunk chick's boob and some guy's forehead.

Around midnight I found myself drunk, with a ink stamp pad, and my information dispersed to saturation. I started to think laterally into general mischeif and hijinx...

I was talking to one woman and when she looked away I quickly tapped the open ink pad on the top of her beer bottle. With her next drink she installed a tiny black ring, right where the Hitler moustache would go. She walked around with the black circle, unknowingly. We were completely on to something! As the night wore on, little black circles graced the upper lip of 50% of the bar's inhabitants. I kept stamping bottle tops until almost everyone in the bar had a little circle right above their beer hole.

The fun went on until someone emptied Buffy's bar with a fart that smelled like someone burned a dead dog in a 55 pound bag of sulfur. It was intriquing to think about where those circles would end up as they migrated to other drunks through the frosty Wisconsin night, and how many people would gaze into the mirror the next day wondering "what the hell is that?".