The weekend was overrun with Solstice Festival stuff. I live in the Fremont neighborhood of Seattle, possibly the last stand for hippies and women who don't think shaving anything is a plus. Saturday was the big parade, tons of nakedness and expressive freedom. Basically Burning Man without the drive, fire or sunburn (Seattle. duh). So people were drinking since 10am. By the time I went out to the pub to sketch, the entire neighborhood was one long stream of drunk, naked, painted, puking people. Trying to sketch was more of an adventure than normal. I had two beers and something called an "oatmeal cookie" spilled on my book by 11pm. The same people who told me how much they loved the sketch, would bump into me mercilessly right after. It was humid, tight, and smelled like feet. But out the other end of all that. Was this. Victory. Damp, stained, stinky victory. oh, the title came from some guy who stumbled into me and looking at the sketch said "Whoa. Look at those Cantaloupes." Then he fell down and stayed down. A knock out. so the title stuck. original b sting here.