LUAU VIDEO ARRIVES!! GET YOUR DRUGS! just kidding...

We were sitting at a bar with no name in grey part of town. We minded our own business as we sipped Courvoisier from tiny crystal snifters. We grunted. No words were spoken. Bigsby, the one-eyed transvestite bartender, stood in the corner slowly cleaning a pint glass, unlit cigarette drooping from her lips like a sad clown who lost all his bones. The juke box was screaming Hall and Oats "Maneater", none of us like that song. It's Bigsby's favorite. Though you'd never know from how her one good eye was just as glassed over as the cold, vertically pupil-ed cat style glass eye lodged in her other eye socket. The stranger at the end of the bar raised his glass and slammed it down on the bar, shattering the glass in to flying jagged shards of death. He screamed from somewhere within his oversized hooded cloak, "I DEMAND CLOSURE" as he shook his sloppy shredded flipper at the one eyed transvestite bar tender. Her good eye snapped back into life and focused on the dark abyss of the cloak. She shrugged in our direction and let her eye float away back to whatever weird-o day dream she was having. She was lost to this world. The cloaked stranger now turned in our direction and reached into his face-opening with his mangled hand, which was now oozing thick black fluid, and pulled out a think package. he placed it on the bar and, in one motion, slid it across the bar as he sloshed to the floor and evaporated a black mist of fairy farts. Fairy farts are visually black and smell terrible. We watched as the package slid closer and closer to us. The temperature dropped 2.5 degrees, our loins swelled in anticipation. The package slid closer. One rarely known fact is that this particular bar happens to have the longest bar-top in the country. During peak times directly following the repeal of the prohibition act, it could easily accommodate 75 obese patrons for long nights of slogging grog and slamming bangers. The package slid closer. My eyes burned form not having blinked in several seconds, but i just couldn't fucking stop watching this thing slide and slide and slide. I thought of my birth, my mother, my future death, my first drink, my old teddy ruxbin, everything and anything swirling endlessly and throbbingly inside my brain, slamming the words "what is going on??" over and over on the inside of my forehead. With the chime of a crystal bell, the package came to a halt directly in form of us. we leaned in. The label read: the Great Nordic Sword Fights DO NOT OPEN. so we opened it. We grunted. No words were spoken. This was inside:

"Psychic Luau" by Random Patterns from random patterns on Vimeo.