Sinister: NY PICNIC ENDS IN DISSOLUTION OF SCOTTISH BAND

[MWaggner at xxx.com]

The NY Picnic finally came to be -- thanks Matt, for a great job organizing
it!  

Here's what happened:  30+ Sinisterines met in East River Park for a
delightful day in the sun as the breeze off the river reminded them of a
summer wasting .  The mighty states of New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, Ohio
and I-Know-There-Are-Others -I'm-Sorry-If-I've-Forgotten were represented.
Delegates were also sent from across the pond.  Food of all sorts was spread
around on colorful picnic blankets by the river under some trees and the group
undertook to lounge about in fetching twee fashion, discussing the state they
were in and other simple things. All was going well until a squirrel, bearing
a list of its Ten Favorite Bands written in numerical order on an acorn,
attempted to descend from a tree, making threatening noises at Lauren who was
sitting below.  MickMcMick decided to fend it off with a chinese yoyo, setting
off quite the rollercoaster ride of events (which, as you will see, put an end
to the dreams of fame and fortune of a certain glaswegian octet).   The
squirrel decided to fight back and Mick was forced to retreat, tangling
himself up in a bicycle left carelessly lying around by some dog on wheels.
Mick was left bruised and battered on the ground, getting little sympathy from
the rest of the group as it was quite clearly not very fucking belle and
sebastian of him to go after the squirrel in the first place.  "The boy done
wrong again," agreed Ethan and Jessica.  

In an attempt to do something pretty while you can, Brian then tried to soothe
everyone's angst over this troubling display by offering posters (which he had
gotten from Matador by citing a close but completely untrue blood relationship
to Seymour Stein) to one and all.  Megan ("I never get any B&S souvenirs it's
not fair") held out for the large special poster and Brian, in an attempt to
be fair, decided to hold a competition.  The beautiful poster was greased up
with some honey from a sangwich shaped like a star, and tossed into the East
River.  Like Dylan in the movies, Megan jumped into the river without a look
back in an attempt to have the poster as her own.  The greased poster,
however, kept slipping from her grasp, and she was halfway to Jonny's house
across the river when she lost strength and began to sink.  Sadly, most of the
group were looking around the park and seeing other people going about their
activities, drawn particularly to the stars of track and field who were
competing beyond the footie fields.  Laurel noticed that Megan was sinking and
yelled "If you're feeling sinister, hold on!"  and hailed a passing police
boat while other listees asked each other "Is it wicked not to care?" and
passed around Ben's cheese and cracker plate.  

The ensuing rescue operation caused quite a stir, and the press arrived.
Megan was pulled from the water, shivering like a fox in the snow, while the
chief of police, trying to claim his 3..6..9.. seconds of light gave his
statement to the 10 o'clock news.  He began by saying, "Me and the major here
are pleased we could serve the public good.  It is not safe to ease your feet
in the sea when wearing a cardigan.  Too many of these young "popsters" suffer
serious injury each year."  

Meanwhile, a reporter from the NY Post, nosing about the picnic site, noticed
a copy of a cd bearing the title The Boy With the Arab Strap.  He surmised
that this picnic was NOT the innocent little event it was purported to be and
decided it was more likely a perverse cult led by some vicious foreign
influence leading innocent Americans astray.  Overhearing Joss and his two
mates speaking under their breaths in foreign accents to a gentleman from
Oxford, he alerted the authorities, who began questioning them regarding the
chickfactor in the cult.  Sadly, unable to answer satisfactorily due to an
overdose of Taco Bell burritos,  they were hauled off to jail and subsequently
deported.  

Megan meanwhile decided she needed to sleep the clock around after her ordeal.
She screamed to her roommate, "Get me away from here I'm dying" and began
hitting the chief of police with her soggy prize poster (which she had refused
to leave the water without).  She too was taken away by the authorities and
remains in custody while her recent trips to the former soviet union are
investigated.  The rest of the picnic group was sent to deprogrammers who
questioned them about the significance of what dirty dream number two might
mean.  Mayor Giuliani called a press conference and declared that New York
City would not put the book back on the shelf until the entire incident had
been completely investigated.  "Our crime statistics are the best they've ever
been -- I've been the best mayor this city has seen in a century of fakers.
This bunch of loopers, obviously under the influence of amphetameanies, will
not ruin the safety of our citizens."

As the sun set and the park emptied, a huge yacht sitting at anchor in the
river began to move slowly out toward the Atlantic. Those with binoculars
would have seen, ensconced in plush teak chairs on the aft deck, 8 people
being served champagne and canapes by uniformed cabin boys.  "Another string
bean, Jean," ordered a boy with a trumpet as he settled back against the
cushion. The captain pushed the throttle forward under the orders of the
offensively aromatic Stuart David, who had barked into the intercom, "Listen,
this is pish, I'm leaving."  He was surrounded by a cloud of buzzing insects
whose genus, it was decided, was mayfly.  The fey Stuart Murdoch took a bite
of his pastie de la bourgeoisie as he surveyed the scene on the shore.  He
turned to the girl in pedal pushers next to him and commented, "Well, too
bad... looks like we'll have to cancel the US tour."  She nodded, muttering,
"That's a shame, it could have been a brilliant career."  Stevie shed a tear
or two because had been going to use his earnings from the tour to fulfill the
lifetime wish of a close friend.  "There goes Judy and the dream of horses,"
he sobbed.  The rest of the group, thankful they had not been arrested,
decided it had all been just a spaceboy dream anyway.

Moral of the story:  Squirrels bearing lists of their favorite bands can bring
down all.
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