Drone Fail

Here in the Land of Enchantment, Mistress and Slave have our "two - a - day" rhythm going, made easier by the fact that we skedaddled down from the mountain after only a few runs yesterday due to  subzero, windy, foggy conditions. Thankfully, the fire and other "pursuits" not requiring hand and foot warmers kept us more than engaged.

Then, in early evening, we headed down to our little "downtown" where the galleries and museums were lit by bon fires and farrolitos kicking off the holiday season. A light snow was falling, carolers were singing, and the scene created one of those idyllic  Christmas Eve panorama that makes you think of old Bing Crosby movies (at least if you are an old fart like me).

We didn't stay out too late. The snow was coming down in earnest by the time we pulled into our drive, and it is still falling. Should  be a good day on the slopes before we head home tomorrow.

I understand from Suzanne's blog that she and Tammy are headed to the Patriots game today, and she mentioned that Tammy will be wearing his CB for the occasion. Ouch. I hope he steers clear of the beer. My big concern about a cock cage at a sporting event is waiting in line to take a pee. He is certainly a better trained Slave than the old pampered one behind this keyboard.

And the WC? Sounds like his daughter declined the generous offer of tickets to today's Donkey Game in mile high city. So he's off to freeze his body parts off. Their was hope that Donna would get him one of those custom made "cock cozies" to prevent dickbite. Such a festive look too:

But alas, the delivery drone she had borrowed from Jeff Bezos and Amazon had an unanticipated problem:

Here's the thing about the drone, WC. 

While I worked out the weather situation, air speed, filed a flight plan, and arranged for careful packaging for your cock warmer, I neglected to consider the mental instability of the people living in this area. 

The drone hadn't even make it out of the county, when some local yokel blasted it out of the sky with his bazooka that he brought home from WWII. It fell from the sky leaving a flaming trail and caught a local evangelical church's Christmas tree lot on fire. The old gents minding the tree lot may have been imbibing a bit while trying to keep warm while standing outside waiting for people to stop and buy a tree. Their interpretation of events is that the Christmas star reappeared in the sky then fell in a blaze of glory to the grounds of their First Self-Righteous Church, marking their church the only true church on the planet. 

The yokel who shot the thing down isn't going to come forward because he's been warned before about shooting that bazooka, and I'm not saying anything since drones get bad press around here. I understand word of the wonder has spread, and the church is expecting record numbers of worshipers on Sunday morning for the blessing of the special "cloth arrow that points to the heavens" that was found in a silver (aluminum foil) container where the star blazed out. Did I forget to mention that I had placed a dildo in the cock warmer to help set it's shape...which might be described as rather arrow-like.

Sad to say, I can't knit another one fast enough to get it to you before the game. You'll just have to wrap things up and avoid drafts. 

With apologies,
Donna

Bummer WC. Hope you, the special occasion cock, and PFM all survive today's titanic struggle.