As a wise man once said, "The NPCP is a place where the best and brightest of our generation have gone to waste away, usually in a drunken stupor and usually during work hours." Much agreed, wise man, but what goes on in the midst of this wondrous stupor? Oh dear Readers, if only you knew. Trysts, tragedies, loves lost, hearts broken, whistles blown, and shattered adirondacks litter the memories of the years spent within those Big Blue Doors. And, may I add- whistles aren't the only things being blown. Indeed, the inner complexities and social politics of this hydrated behemoth have destroyed many an unsuspecting mind. But for every mind that's destroyed, so many more stories are created, especially if you happen to be a Stunna.

And thus we find ourselves here, in search of a truth without rules, a truth which can run and dive and eat whenever and wherever it so pleases. This, dear Readers, is not the children's lane. We notice the skanky hair, the hard balls in the upper pool, and especially who's sharing their treasures. And though we may not be making you walk, we're always watching. Save yourselves.