By Chuck Strouse
By Scott Fishman
By Terrence McCoy
By Ryan Yousefi
By Ciara LaVelle, Kat Bein, Carolina Del Busto, and Liz Tracy
By Pepe Billete
By Ryan Yousefi
By Kyle Swenson
When Kristal is handed the group picture, she begins to draw a white-haired man over the left ear of the giraffe. She adds wings, and the figure seems angelic. I take a second look and notice her character is also holding a smoking gun.
Pooka tries to persuade the artists that Irish car bombs — drinks that consist of Guinness, Bailey's, and about 10 seconds of chugging — are "good for the stomach."
Someone refers to the libation as "Irish Pepto," and then I ask Pooka where her name comes from.
"It comes from my role-playing days," she says.
"You mean your larping days?" someone in the group calls out.
"Larping?" I ask. "What's that?"
"Live-action role-playing," Pooka says as her face turns the same color as her hair. "In role-playing there's species of characters you can play. Pooka is like an Irish boogeyman, usually a black horse or a dog that befriends humans and then runs them into a thorn patch or stomps on your head. Her personality was just like mine."
The drawing comes around again. Pat Thai has drawn a flustered anime man in a blazer surrounded by psychedelic swirls. Above him a word balloon reads, "Oh my ..." He eyes a doodle of a head sprouting an erect, diseased-looking member and drooling over Pooka's buxom milk fountain.
The drawing is everything a good, tumultuous Saturday night should be: insane, alcohol-laden, and kinky.