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.
“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!
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