My favourite tractor had his birthday today, so I hopped onto the Shhexy Jet to go and celebrate with him. We started with four gallons of the finest mojitos known to man, had a delicious Dormouse fondue for dinner and then went on to a couple of discreet clubs for some hardcore whore action. I think I may have given Ice Nine a little too much Rohypnol, because once we left the first brothel, he completely flipped out and started do some bizarre farm-machinery moonwalk. He looked fucking shhexy, obviously, but got some funny looks from passersby, especially when he ran over a couple of kids trying to get a look at his threshing attachment. That man doesn't know his power, really. It was a great night though, we partied until long after the sun came up and queued outisde the nearby church so we could get in for Dawn Mass and confess our very many recent sins. I didn't tell the priest everything though. In some regards, my lips are sealed...