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The Aw Yeah! page is updated once a week and contains material that is far to experimental or unstable for the more normal confines of The Toilet Paper. This week's edition of Aw Yeah! is....


An illustrated tale
Note: This story is not for the faint of heart.  If you are
pregnant, have high blood pressure or any other medical condition,
please return to the TP. 

It was a cool spring eve in Alcalá de Henares, the small Spanish town half an hour north of Madrid. Our hero, your narrator, breathed deeply to savor not only the air, but the very essence of life as he strolled casually through the plaza. He was accompanied by his three Swedish roommates, Puntos, Magnus and Peter. The friends were on their way to take a beer at the local pub, Aquí Arriba.

One beer soon became two, as it often does with Swedes, and two turned into three. And as the conversation became more animated, a controversy arose. Magnus, always a little boastful, began making the absurd and almost heretical claim that he could drink more than Peter.

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(A triumphant Peter prepares for the whipping, more on this later).

Now anyone who’s spent any time with Swedes knows they can drink their fill. But anyone who’s spent an evening with Peter knows that he cannot be out drunk. Especially if you go at it with the explicit intention of outdrinking him. Still, Magnus was persistent and Peter finally agreed to indulge him in a drinking contest. The rules were simple; our hero/narrator would set the pace, much like the mechanized rabbit chased by racing greyhounds. For every beer he drank, Magnus and Peter would drink a beer and a whisky. It was to be a civilized match, no reason to chug or rush, just good company, good conversation and a steady stream of alcohol.

Five beers into the game (on top of the three beers already consumed), our hero was certainly aware of an approaching drunkenness, but delighted in the conversation. It was the drunken talk alive with charges of blatant philosophical errors, but also of wild exploits and shameless bravado. Just as our hero wondered how far the contest could go, Magnus stood up rather shakily and announced that he was going out for some fresh air. He never returned. Half an hour later, our hero and his two companions went in search of him.

They found Magnus at home sleeping like a baby, headphones in place, listening to the soothing sounds of rain falling lightly on a soft field. And in typical Swedish fashion (for our hero was more of a passive observer in the events to follow), they could not leave well enough alone.
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Puntos charged into action.
Analogy: Puntos is to bizarre as Peter is to drinking.
He immediately ordered Peter and our hero to get their cameras. For his part, Puntos donned sunglasses and grabbed his whip. Why he had a whip, we will never know.
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Puntos prepared for himself for whatever fantastic ritual he had in mind...
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And now, for a brief intermission. The following is a monument to the great writer, Miguel Cervantes, plume in hand. Cervantes is most famous for his epic novel, Don Quixote. Please take note of the windmill and figures on the base of the statue.
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And then captain Puntos began the assault…
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As our hero and the drinking champion snapped away.



Slowly Magnus rolled out of bed. Even in his inebriated state, he knew better than to reason with Puntos the madman. He just brushed him aside and flew to the bathroom.   This was the ultimate result.

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Well actually this was.
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The rest is TP history.

Thanks for reading.  Thoughts?
Note: Magnus, Pontus, Peter, Frederick, Henrik, Christer, Malin, Ida, or any other random Swede who recognizes these pictures and the kind folks on the staff page should e-mail thoughts in immediately.


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