The Drunken Caper
Last weekend I ran into some old friends who, in the midst of celebrating something I can no longer recall, insisted on including me in their get-together via buying for me more shots than any sensible man should consume in an hour’s time. Several of them had recently visited this website, so on every occasion that I said “I’ve had enough,” they naturally replied with some variation of “But you’re bigger and stronger and smarter, YOU can handle it.” Obviously, I had to abandon common sense in the face of proving them right, so twelve or sixteen shots later I bid them farewell and then stumbled to where I thought my girlfriend was waiting for me. Unfortunately, at that point my blood was sufficiently saturated with Jäger that I confused the neighboring bar with another watering hole ten or so blocks away. Somehow I made it to the latter location, where I may or may not have indulged in more drink before gracefully blacking out. Several hours later and a few miles away I would regain consciousness while sprawled across my father’s front lawn. The lustrous moon peering down, strange philosophical questions filled my head: Why am I here? How did I get here? Is that dog shit beneath my head? Subtle flashes of the preceding hours entered my mind, providing me with important clues. I remembered crawling through what felt like miles of thorns, peeing on various fire hydrants, and being slapped by a repugnant giant of a woman. Ah, yes, the puzzle was coming together. A few mornings later, rehydrated and ready to reap the rewards of the day, I opened the email that would solve Saturday night’s caper:
“Hey man. I know we’re really not more than friends on facebook but I was damn worried about you the other night. I guess you were waiting by that church for your girlfriend to pick you up and we started talking before that drunk girl threw her Coke in your face. You said she had a weird facial structure so I guess you sort of deserved it but then her huge girlfriend slapped you really hard. I thought you were going to smash her but instead you elbowed a brick wall for about five minutes. Later I saw you again and you were extremely pissed off at everybody. Some wannabe bouncer wouldn’t let you into the bar (he was being a complete shit head) and you said you’d rip his arms off. He did look afraid. Then you told me I needed to quit being an emo pussy (it’s kind of true) and also said to tell your girlfriend that you wouldn’t be home tonight. That you were going on some “walking journey” to your dad’s house. I don’t even know your girlfriend so I couldn’t do anything. I hope you’re alright. P.S. I really like your website.”
I am indeed alright. And thanks.