OK, I'm out in the man cave, and have risked life and limb to give you this update:
Box one: Pickled Pig Lips
At this point I am both still leading and about to puke. So it’s on to…
Box two: Two bottles of Tabasco from the home office: regular and Habanero Hot
A six finger bag with a Dirty Rat, 3 Padron, a LP No. 9, and an Oliva V (this is starting to get ugly)
A 5 cigar herf-a-dor
There’s hope! Maybe Blake saw that I got sniped out of some of these recently and it’s empty for filling before sending to the ‘Stan…
NOPE!
6 mini’s including a MUWAT, AF SS, another Padron.
The walls are starting to shimmer and move in and out.
Then I pull out a CLE box. Again, hope springs in my heart, as this would make a good stomp box, and maybe he sent it empty with a note on how he will play “Louisiana Saturday Night” with it when I send it back.
AGH! It’s full of packs of Phillies sweet filter cigarillos-7 packs to be precise.
Then on the bottom is a ten count humidor-What a nice guy, sending along some help with the growing storage crisis I’m having.
NOPE, it’s full too-LFDs, AF SS’s, a My Father-is this ever going to stop?
I wipe my ear and notice a little blood trickling out. Nestled besides this box is a bottle of Tiger Sauce-a delicacy I haven’t had since being exiled to Kalifornia. Just what the doctored ordered, I decide to soldier on, literally, as the Azzhat COINED ME with an Army Guard Honor coin. (THANKS!)
At this point I’m looking at the damage and, in my dazed and battered state, think I can post this up, concede defeat for Team TWELVE but at least it was close. I was hallucinating.
Fear strikes deep in my bones as I realize Blake mentioned emptying a 100 count on me, and there is still another box from him under the CBID one I also brought out to the garage/man cave. Oh, no. It’s all over but the cryin’
First, Blake must have realized I was using an incredibly sharp work knife to open the boxes, as once the tape is cut, out comes a lot of Curad band-aids. WTH? Must be some weird 13er thing but whatever, on to the real damage.
On top, more schwag: a bag of Cajun Seeds and a bag of Cajun Nuts. OK you comedians, live it up with the jokes about Blake’s package, his seed and his nuts. REAL MATURE (but yeah, I opened that door a few days ago, didn’t I?)
And then it happens, the part I’ve been dreading for the past few days, the part that should make this thread NC-17 if Trish isn't going to do that Monday anyway, the CIG-AH-POCALYPSE all you who have traded with Blake in the past have known was coming. I pull some bubble wrap out, and underneath it aren’t rocks, there are…..
A GAZILLION CIGARS.
I’ll be up half the night matching up brands, but here’s the Readers Digest version:
6 AF Flor Fina 8-5-8s
5 AF SS (plus the ones in box number two-8 total I think)
Diesels. Think overnight parking at a truck stop, We got us a trucking convoy number of Diesels
My Fathers-at least 3
5Vs-different ones, but all tasty
3 Tatuaje Havana’s
Cuanca y Blanco
Gurkha’s-A Seduction (NH) plus some everyday ones, which is fine with me
Le Aroma De Cuba
Obsidian
Cusano 18
CAO OSA
JDN Antano
And probably 20+ more assorted smokes that pretty much replace most the bombs I’ve sent out lately.
I’ll post an actual list, but it’s going to take a while just to sort through the death and destruction around Los Casa de Bur. The dogs that welcomed me home from the trip mere hours ago are nowhere to be seen, and their whimpering can barely be heard. Our meanest cat of the three glanced in, and ran up the nearest tree. To top it all off, I’m going to have to contract some fruity Ehl AAA photographic design nutjob to try to get all this in one picture.
All kidding aside, I am forever indebted to you, Blake for this amazing hit!
