'no, i never throw up' that was the bet
I was standing in the parking lot at portland & queen drinking straight
scotch and an amazing bottle steven made filled with white russian and abit of
baily's, they kept telling me i shouldn't mix the two and i would be sick, but
i wouldn't listen, and placed the bet that i wouldn't throw up and that i would
get fucked
So there we were, them standing there placing thier bets as to when i was going
to vomit and me mbling around. Everytime a person of the opposite sex passed
by, i attempted to convince them to blow me, as well, I repeatedly hit on
Steven. However, when my attempts proved futile, we headed over to savage
garden. After almost immediately finding a booth, kevin and steven went off to
find christian, a friend of the steven, while my sorry ass was passed out on
the table. As kevin returned to find me lying in a puddle of booz, he proceded
to spank me upside the head. Steven returned, and lifted my head off the table,
however, it fell with a mighty whack onto the table which it layed before.
After all attempts of waking me proved useless, steven proceded to throw ice
cubes down my back, but the only thing that woke me was when the chain-smoking
little bastard tried to steal my cigarettes. half awake in a drunken stupor,
the two tried to move me to christian's table.
however, not have the energy nor the co-ordination to move, my mouth slowly
began to open, and out came the most vile vomit i had ever had the displeasure
to see, all over my chin and shirt, while my two onlookers merely burst into
laughter. but i still sat there, with the same look on my face, and the only
words i uttered were "oh fuck!" i didn't respond to their pleas to
wash myself off, but rather sat up a little, looked to my left, and let it fly
all over the remainder of what clean booth we had left. this, steven then
left.me in kevins care to go back to the other table. i finally got up and
walked down the stairs, at which point one of my favourite songs was playing.
as i attempted to dance to Lords of Acid "i sit on acid", i merely
vomited all over the steps, and laughed as club-goers slipped all over their 7
inch platforms. kevin got steven, who was told by a helpful bouncer to walk on
the left side of the steps, since the right was covered in my puke.
when we finally got into the car, i repeatly asked steven to open my window,
and when my request was finally aknowleadged, i once again blew chunks out the
window, hitting an unsuspecting pedestrian in the face. Similar to the nature
of a drive-by shooting, i yelled "go, dammit!" to the driver, kevin,
and as he floored the gas i couldn't help but feel a little like a straight up
g. as the night dragged on, kevin and steven decided it would be a great idea
to take me to a strip bar to cheer me up. as we sat down, i sipped a little
more contently on my coke, but was suprised to find a real looker (don't mind
my 50's bad-ass slang) walking towards me with a smile on her face. although i
was happy to discover the two had bought me a lap-dance, it turn into yet
another vomit-fest in no time. as she bounced up and down, her body swaying in
the most dizzing movements, i let it rip right between the crack in her chest -
as you probably guessed, she was not impressed. i've never run faster in my
life.
my apologizes go out to the staff at savage garden and the staff at
filmore's.
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