More Highlights from King Gut's Cruise
Before continuing with more stories from the cruise, I thought it would be appropriate to show you some pictures of the ship so you can appreciate its splendor. Unfortunately, these two pictures just don't do the ship justice but they are the best ones I have:
Exterior:
One of many Pool Decks:
The first port of call on King Gut's cruise was St. Martin (they're all named after Saints, so I'm probably remembering the wrong one--but who cares). Everyone told us that Orient Beach was the hot spot, so that's where we headed. After a nice little taxi ride where the dude honked as if every push on the horn enabled him to a dome shot to be redeemed later and flying around hairpin turns faster than a Virginia Tech late season collapse, we arrived at the beautiful beach. Since cruising is so tiring, King Gut decided to take a nap before picking up the bitches, as my photographer has documented below (please note I'm not actually sleeping in this picture because one of the prices my brother and I had to pay for this trip was to allow my dad to take billions of pictures in which we must be giving full attention at all times):
Two people beautiful enough to make doubters of Darwin change their minds
Although it is somewhat unnerving, guys, if you feel the need to satisfy yourself while admiring this picture like I'm sure the ladies do, I completely understand. In fact, I spray my fire hose to myself daily (just kidding, I have hot bitches do it for me).
The first surprise is that all the chairs sitting out on the beach are actually owned by someone who just walks around and collects money from anyone who touches it. I'm not sure if someone actually owns them and therefore has the right to charge people, or if they just clean up on suckers that believe whatever native-looking people say for fear of being eaten by those crazy foreigners who speak a blend of English mixed with Dumbass understood only by themselves. Well one cock-slap later, and the Gutmann family had some free leisurely reclining beach chairs. After I felt sufficiently rested up, my brother and I took off for a stroll on the beach to survey the chick scene.
The interesting part about St. Martin (or St. Maarten for that matter) is that there are two parts to the island, the English side and the French side. Well this division runs across the beach as well and after walking over a boulder, much to my brother's and my surprise, we found ourselves on the French side of the beach. There was actually no difference, except for the small fact that this was the nude part of the beach. Fucking awesome, right? HOLY SHIT NO. I almost called the fucking coast guard there were so many beached whale sightings. I used to think that the amazingly bright Caribbean sun was blinding. That sun was fucking nothing in terms of vision impairment compared to these food vacuums. I didn't know cows ate sand, but we must have stumbled upon their grazing lands. Making this even better, the guys joined in the nude fun. I wanted to wash this image out of my mind so badly I almost called one of the dirty French whores so I could rub my eye on her cooch to get gonorrhea of the eye and never have to see anything like that ever again.
Back to happy thoughts. I would give anything for a picture of this next thing, but alas: on our drive to the beach, we saw this dalmation dog gracefully mounting a brownish dog. Fast forward ½ mile and two hours and we're walking down the beach (in the other direction, thank you) and we see these two same dogs in a puddle once again going at it. Funny enough. Later I was talking to a friend on the ship and she not only said she saw the same two dogs, but there was this guy with a real professional looking camera following the two dogs around and taking pictures! Now, this leads to two very obvious conclusions.
- Some people are just amazingly fucked up. As fun as homemade voyeuristic doggy-style porn may be (yes yes, I know, clever doggy-style pun intended), there's gotta be some better shit than that on the Internet.
- Even two mangy, emaciated (though well-hung on the Dalmation-looking dog's part) mutts can teach us all something important about the way society should be: No matter what your respective races, as long as the sex is good, who cares if two love-birds are different races? I think the ACLU just found its two new spokesmen.
Have any comments that you would like to share with King Gut? Email me at: Gutmeister8@netscape.net
Back to the Kick-Ass Main Page