One of our more debauched promoters was recently engaged in a rather steamy relationship with a cougar. The promoter is barely 22, and the fierce feline who captured his heart is 38. The couple met at a fetish night at one of our city's seedier clubs, and apparently sparks flew during a public spanking session, or whatever it is that people do at fetish clubs.
The star crossed lovers are big drunks. Massive. Gigantic. They make Galactus look like Jiminy Cricket. They drink booze like it's water, and they're not beyond mixing liquors with beers. Hell, some of their friends swear that the drunlken duo have even drunk rubbing alcohol on occasion. They're dedicated to the drink, and even prefer a good bottle of wine over a bag of pills or powder or herbs.
This propensity for drink has come at a cost, however. Our cougar has a young, ten year old daughter. One day, the young promoter got very soused up and, stumbling into his girlfriends home, mistook the ten year old, who was sleeping in her PJs on the couch, for his girlfriend. He sat down next to her, and with lascivious intent, began his dirty work. The moment he grabbed what he shouldn't have grabbed though, the girl woke up, and let out a scream so loud that the neighbors ended up rushing over.
The cops arrived in time to stop the promoter from getting his head kicked in from a concerned and exceptionally well built man who lived next door. The police hauled our young raver away, and now, months later, his case has finally made its way through the courts. He was able to convince the judge that the whole thing really was a matter of mistaken identity. The judge has given our drunkard promoter the benefit of the doubt, and the boy is getting off with a light sentence -- home arrest, alcohol treatment, and community service.
Don't drink and fondle, folks. You might grab the wrong person.
