
D.D.
sees a bug...bug must die. Die bug, die. |

Aww...
just like a couple of choir boys... so sweet
|

"My
delicate flower, your hands, they are so soft.. your dancing,
so divine."
|

Ms.
West shocking a young Nascar fan into submission |

Our
subjects: one D. Schmitz, future murderer, and one D. King,
the "whackee".. details to follow.
|

New
recruits shakin their thangs. (That free1/2 barrel helped lube
their gears)
|
| 
"
I do declare, you are the finest dancer this side of
the Mason-Dixon." |

The
shirt says it all... |

Giving
bump and grind an all new meaning |

The
Reactors instill shock and awe as always...
|

Queen
Joan whipping raffle tickets off faster than imagined
|

Murderer
and victim, please note Kings' gaping head wound. Next time, try
not force feeding King your entire bass, Don.
|
| 
That's
just plain dirty and wrong. And BTW, "Jill" has requested
that you not call her for a good time. |

Near
capacity.. we must be doing something right?? |

AC/
D-She |
| 
Marco
Pogo attempts to trounce a hole in Nelson's floor
|

Dancers
on the floor attempt to explain the "single bullet theory"
|

Big
sister bustin moves |
|

Kenny
What?? Oh, you mean Kenny Who. |

"No,
it's true! D.D. never wears underwear. I agree that's scary."
|

Please,
no cameras. I'm extremely shy. As are my man-nipples. |
|

Dave
Johnson approves. Thank you. |

Tiny
hails Satan... now the real metal starts. |

"And
to my left, we see Astro, soon to be won by Mrs. Dorst"
($20 in quarters later)
|
|

"If
that guy jumps from the balcony again, I'm not catching him. No
more, my back can't take it." |

Donny
sees your every move... don't even think about it... |

The
fad diets are for punks, Reactorsise burns more calories, and
you'll look great doing it! |
|

"I
agree, that banner IS a little crooked" |

Deansvilles
future mayor stops mid fox-trot for a photo opp. |

Mucho
amore to Tracy for having us out! His prime rib sandwich kicks
ASS! |