butterfly party
“I think I’m drunk enough to drive you home now.”
“Okay. Great.”
She was more drunk than I was. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
Just then, a hulking figure hurried toward us. I recognized him as someone who might have shot down my kite with a slingshot in the third grade. Ignoring me, he addressed my new best friend.
“I thought you were coming home with me.”
She couldn’t speak, so I did.
“Dude, are you sure you’re drunk enough to drive?”
“I haven’t had a drop. I’m a designated driver.”
What a loser! My hero!
“That’s perfect. She won’t remember a thing, and you’ll remember everything. She’s all yours, chief.”
I handed him the keys, pivoting away just in time to miss the arc of vomit that streamed from her mouth.
“I think I’m drunk enough to drive you home now.”
“Okay. Great.”
She was more drunk than I was. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
Just then, a hulking figure hurried toward us. I recognized him as someone who might have shot down my kite with a slingshot in the third grade. Ignoring me, he addressed my new best friend.
“I thought you were coming home with me.”
She couldn’t speak, so I did.
“Dude, are you sure you’re drunk enough to drive?”
“I haven’t had a drop. I’m a designated driver.”
What a loser! My hero!
“That’s perfect. She won’t remember a thing, and you’ll remember everything. She’s all yours, chief.”
I handed him the keys, pivoting away just in time to miss the arc of vomit that streamed from her mouth.
“Okay. Great.”
She was more drunk than I was. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
Just then, a hulking figure hurried toward us. I recognized him as someone who might have shot down my kite with a slingshot in the third grade. Ignoring me, he addressed my new best friend.
“I thought you were coming home with me.”
She couldn’t speak, so I did.
“Dude, are you sure you’re drunk enough to drive?”
“I haven’t had a drop. I’m a designated driver.”
What a loser! My hero!
“That’s perfect. She won’t remember a thing, and you’ll remember everything. She’s all yours, chief.”
I handed him the keys, pivoting away just in time to miss the arc of vomit that streamed from her mouth.
posted by extraspecialbitter at 11:58 AM
2 Comments:
Big guys like the one you described here used to kick sand in my face too... that is... until I enrolled in the Charles Atlas course.
The adventures of The Lone Ranger & Tonto. High Ho! Silver!
Post a Comment
<< Home