cageless minus the nic (a flashback)

i honestly can’t recall what the reason for this was…

…twenty years will do that to you.

09/02/2002: “rage in the cage…or not.”

TOTALLY my fault. i figured it was no big deal that with the exception of laundry, and cleaning the den, my room, and the bathrooms that the day went uneventful. why? because when me and james were out at sugar’s on friday night, he mentioned birthday festivities at the yellow rose on sunday. said it was for shane (a dj at 101 i used to work with…not the guy you’ve heard me talk about that occasionally posts comments about going to see his PO).

the plan, as i understood it, was pretty simple. drunken sunday night debauchery because monday was his birthday and due to the holiday none of us had to work. COOL plan. plus, my favorite, cool as hell dj that USED to work at sugar’s NOW works at the rose (and sounds a LOT happier), so there was that as a bonus. and the debauchery would center around a yellow rose staple….THE CAGE.

when you first walk into the yellow rose, it greets you. big. black. iron. hard wood floor, with chains and d-rings and wrist restraints hanging from the center, with a door that can be locked behind you. yes, it is LITERALLY a cage. it’s where naughty (lucky) little boys and girls paid well to be naughtier get locked in for the amusement of others. odd thing about the cage; i know very few people familiar with the austin strip club scene who HAVEN’T seen a cage victim. i know plenty who can tell you who they’ve paid good money to put there…be it their boss, their dad (if you’re josh), or your buddy on the eve of his bachelor party.

but none of my buddies have ever BEEN in the cage…and everyone who talks about it has a “i know this guy…” vibe to the story.

they take you in, shackle you to the top (usually using your own belt), drop your pants around your ankles (not the situation your mom had in mind when she always told you to wear clean underwear, but easily the BEST situation to follow the rule). two or three songs of spanking and grinding later, you’re released back into general population, as the hero of your table for the rest of the night. such was the fate of shane last night…with one little problem.

no cage. it’s gone. yes “gone”. as in “not there”. what the fuck?

so, the night’s centerpiece and the planned bit for the whore was gone. but i know not where. come tuesday, i am SO writing an email to see what the fuck (i’m on the manager’s mailing list at work – long story). in a bit of “spike the ball” irony, the booth in vip we started off in (i still don’t know why we got moved half-way through the night) was where the cage USED to be. is nothing in this world sacred?

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