Drinking Stories

Let me take you back to 1999. It was sometime after graduation and before the time when I had to leave for Gannon. Two of my female friends, we shall call them X and Y wanted me to go to a party at some chick’s apartment.

Once I got there, everything was going fine, beer was being drank, there was talk of dying my hair blue, whatever. Two of the guys there were, what is the word I am looking for? Oh yeah, deuschebags. They were in their mid-20s and would probably be working at a gas station for the rest of their lives, and were proud of that.

The one D-Bag, who I will call DB1, says that he plans on getting so drunk that he ends up pissing on the floor. I made a joke about how I had done that before and it’s never a good idea. Everyone laughs.

Later in the evening, after I am really feeling it, DB1 and his friend DB2 tell me that the chick who lives at the apartment, we will call her C-Bag, wants to speak with me outside.

When I get out there she starts asking me if I plan on pissing on her floor, which I respond no to and that DB1 had made a comment about it, not me. She says that DB1 and DB2 heard me say I wanted to piss on her floor and since she has known them for longer than she’s known me, she believes them. I say whatever and tell her that I will just leave then.

She then yells at me and says I’m not going anywhere, which makes me laugh and I walk past here. I should mention that I am not wearing a shirt at this point and was trying to get inside to grab my shirt and flip-flops. DB2 grabs me and shoves me into the wall. Then DB1 grabs me by the throat and starts smashing me into the very nice stucco wall causing my back to start bleeding.

I start to walk away towards the stairs and DB1 shoves me and I fall down the stairs. Getting splinters in my feet. I start to crawl up the driveway, and DB1 continues to beat on me. He is kicking me in the ribs. Finally I have had enough and kick his knee as hard as I could, dropping DB1 to the ground. I have heard he has a slight limp from it. Good for him.

Anyways, I get up and start walking towards home and stumble upon Sheetz. I go in and the girl working bandages me up. I start walking home again when I stumble on the road, causing a car to stop. The guy offers me a ride, which I take.

Turns out the guy is a Catholic Priest on his way to Iowa at 3 a.m. He and I discuss religion and I argue against the existence of god and whatnot. He drops me off at my house and as I get out, my friend, X, comes flying down the road. She pulls into my driveway with my shirt and flip-flops. She feels really bad about what happened and we sit in her car and talk for a bit. One thing leads to another, and well, let’s just say the night was not a total loss. That means I had sex for those of you who are not too quick.

Here is a nice little comic to show you how the evening went, and also to show you how bad of an artist I am.

8 thoughts on “Drinking Stories

  1. Is this a true story? If so why don’t I remember this? I know I have the beginning of alzheimers but I think I would remember this.

    I see you have my artistic abilities, haha.

  2. Mom…I remember telling you some of it, I think I told you I fell against a wall at the party though. That was how I explained my back being cut up.

  3. even though i firmly believe that DB1 and 2 were in the wrong, i cant help but think that youre leaving something out of the story. somewhere around when your shirt came off. you’re little dig at DB1’s lack of wit doesnt seem like enough of an instigating factor for an attack. but then again, the lack of any reasonable motive could be what earned him the nickname in the first place.

    oh yeah, and its always a plus when you can get a young lady to “kiss your boo-boo”. good times…

  4. Gideon…the reason my shirt was off was because X and Y were trying to dye my hair, so they had me take it off. It should be pointed out that DB1 had a thing for Y, and she was flirting with me all night…so that may have upset him as well.

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