The meat pie pictured above is the only reason I still go back to the Renaissance Faire.
My annual craving brings me back to this god forsaken festival of freaks year after year.
If you happen to be bored to tears, feel free to peruse the past two years faire musings.
So folks, enjoy my most likely final visit to this sweaty, debaucherous, swingers wonderland:

"Did I accidentally order nachos??" "Eyes straight ahead Helen, there's a ghostly serial killer behind you!"

Hubert, on his way to the local single's mixer, grew apprehensive. Will the wenches be as receptive as usual? Dressed in his finest wares, beard freshly clipped, the confidence he needed finally came to him.
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