We are often imitated, but never duplicated. If you are looking to have fun and relax this is the place for you. Cuttlefish from all walks of life retreat here for tales and buttplugs. Gator or not you are welcome here if you want to have fun, relax and earn MASSIVE REP STARS!!1! Step right on in, folks, and savor the circlejerk.
"You're like a deer or elk in hunting season," says Joe Tombari, a high-school teacher in Spokane, who sometimes locks the door of his classroom during off-periods and checks under his car before he gets near it.
One February day in the mid-1990s, Mr. Tombari and his wife, then living in California, got a knock on the door from a friend. "Hey, Joe, you've got to check this out. You wouldn't believe what I just bought," he said, as he led the two out to his car.
What they didn't know was Sean Raftis, who was "It," had flown in from Seattle and was folded in the trunk of the Honda Accord. When the trunk was opened he leapt out and tagged Mr. Tombari, whose wife was so startled she fell backward off the curb and tore a ligament in her knee.
"I still feel bad about it," says Father Raftis, who is now a priest in Montana. "But I got Joe."
Patrick Schultheis, then a first-year lawyer, drafted a "Tag Participation Agreement," which outlined the spirit of the game and the rules (no "tag-backs," or tagging the player who just tagged you). Everyone signed. The game was on.
Mr. Konesky tiptoed toward Mr. Dennehy's bedroom, burst through the door and flipped on the light. A bleary-eyed Mr. Dennehy looked up as his now-wife yelled "Run, Brian!" Mr. Konesky recalls. "There was nowhere for Brian to run."
Extremely awesome? Or extremely stupid? I can't decide.
“The Knave abideth.” I dare speak not for thee, but this maketh me to be of good comfort; I deem it well that he be out there, the Knave, being of good ease for we sinners.
