My enemies are mounting a furious attack. Help!
Things are getting serious. I’ve got Rip Curl trying to dislodge me from my current hiding place (Cardiff-by-the-Sea) and Stab magazine’s Sam McIntosh coming after me too very angry at the continual fun-making. Livid, in fact, with a frowny face and a bag full of Morgan Williamson adjectives that he’s flinging like adjectives grow on trees. Adjectives like “clotheshorse” “WeedMaps” and “group hug.”
“Stop!” I yell as a whole sentence “The weekend was a kick-back filled with beautiful people, in an enchanting location overlooking a lake and mountainside.” whizzes past my ear.
But I know Sam McIntosh won’t. He is livid with a frowny face and Rip Curl right in front of him with beige boardshorts so I need to hide and I need you. Karl Von Fanningstadt smartly suggested that I hide in Martin Potter’s tooth gap but the bags of cocaine I’m carrying won’t fit there.
Which leaves me with the following options:
n) Where Graham Stapelberg hid before Eddie Rothman slapped him in the Billabong North Shore A-Team house
o) Ex-WSL CEO Paul Speaker’s career
p) Scientology’s Celebrity Centre off Yucca and Franklin in Los Angeles
q) Luke Davis’s natural hair color
r) FCS II’s screw hole
s) SurfStitch’s stock numbers
t) Wherever SurfStitch’s Justin Cameron has gone
u) Fox’s sexual harassment hotline
v) Ocean Pacific
w) The truth about Owen Wright
x) Page 335 of Matt Warshaw’s History of Surfing (buy here!)
y) Samsung Galaxy phones (the ones that explode)
z) Between two cases of Michelob Ultra