A quick WTF story from DragonCon...

So, I'm sitting in High Velocity's glassy box VIP whatever thing at the Mariott Hotel with a bunch of really great folks (Tony Shasteen, Nightmare Armor Studio guys, my buddies Alec and Shawn, and a ton of other great people). We all totally scammed our way in - we made buddies with one of the servers at the restaurant last night, and she totally lied about how much we'd be spending to let us in. It was fairly awesome.

Now, the thing about Con is that random people walk into wherever you are, and suddenly someone will go "HEY!" and get up and talk and then introduce whoever it is to the rest of everyone. It's a really chill environment, full of bonding and happiness and whatever else you need to hear to get the point that good things happen. And while we're all sitting there swapping stories and laughing, this guy walked in dressed as a satyr (the pan-flute goatboy kind) but with tennis shoes, holding one of his horns in his hand.

We all kinda nod and acknowledge him, all of us assuming someone else in that room knows who he is. And hell, EVERYONE'S in costumes of some sort (except me - I'm my own costume, with this Akira sleeve and whatever). So it's really no big deal... Until the guy opened his mouth.

"I can't get my horn back on," he says during a natural lull in the conversation.

One of us offered the suggestion of glue. He says "You know, this one time, I ate out a girl for 7 hours, and she told me afterward that she had herpes."

Just like that.

The room was stone silent, except for the dull buzz of the low-volume television in the corner. "Dude," someone said after a few seconds, "Who in this room do you know?"

"No one," he replied. "I just came in here to put my horn back on."

There was nothing else to say. He had just topped any and all stories that could have possibly been told the rest of the night, in two sentences.

WTF, furpants?