It all
started out, innocently enough. Really. So, my friend Slink and I
are into that Fantasy Football that everybody raves about. You know,
the shit at work that everybody is fucking around on the internet
with, instead of doing what ever it is they are supposed to be
doing. Well, after my big Divorce, I volunteered up my brand new
spanking house for the next live draft. And, by live draft, I mean
tremendous fucking raging party that we normally hold at a hotel in
a mid point between all our houses. I live close to the middle, and
the Commissioner (Slink) liked it, so we planned it.
My friends started showing up on Thursday, and I took Friday off.
This instigated some small amount of drinking on Thursday night, and
a very large amount of drinking on Friday day, and all night Friday
night. Four or five of us partied HARD on Friday, until 5:30 on
Saturday morning. We had some younger guys with us, and Slink and I
PUNISHED them hard. We drank those newbys into the fucking ground,
pulled them up, and did it again. And that was just the night before
the big party.
Our draft starts at noon or so, after the big bar-b-que, and we have
nine guys there, one woman, all “owners” of the teams in our league.
We also had a waitress there to serve drinks, and to look hot. Hey,
when Roast throws a party, he fucking brings it. So, there are a
couple of owners there that were not drinking, for one perfectly
good reason or another. That left seven of us. About 3:00 or so, the
draft is going well, and everybody is having a good time. I make a
bone headed pick, and get chastised for it. It is at this point that
I realize that I’m drunk, and that we have many hours of party to
go. To celebrate my bad pick, I started taking shots of scotch.
The draft ends about 5:00, and everybody is pretty loaded. My new
girlfriend (Muffy) is there, and a buddy makes a comment about my
“Nice drinking glass ware”, and asks where I got it.
Roast: Yeah, they were all wedding presents, the only thing I picked
out for gifts…
Muffy: (Sitting on Roast’s lap, just gives him a funny look)…
Roast: What? Oh, right… You know what? We are about to have a get
over the ex-wife party!!!
I sprint into my house, and talk to the waitress that is also my
personal friend..
Roast: Kay, I’m going to back my truck into my drive way, bring out
every fancy booze glass I have, and line them up with shots!!!!
Kay: Um, are you sure you should be driving?
Roast: (Sprints back out the door with keys)
I hop into my truck, and fire that huge beast up. I see frantic
movement in the garage (I was parked in the drive way of my house)
and then I see Slink jet past my truck. I say fuck it, he has what
ever he’s worried about covered. I throw the truck in reverse, and
back out, pull forward, and back into the drive way. I exit my
vehicle thinking “Too drunk to drive, INDEED!!!”
Slink: Whew that was close!!!
Roast: What?
Guest #1: Um, I think you hit my car…
Roast: What?
Slink: (walking around to inspect the car he tried to move out of
the way in time) Um, yeah, looks that way, Roast.
Roast: (Looking Puzzled) You were parked behind me?
Guest #1: Um, yeah. Nice dent, I also like the paint mark…
Well at times like this, it’s nice to have understanding friends.
And even though I had just met this guy this weekend, he was very
cool about it. I mean, lets face it, I’m up shit creek without a
paddle, and I throw my self to this guys best drunken judgment as to
how to make this situation right. He had been inquiring about my
skis that were in my garage, because he wanted to buy them from me,
so we made a barter, skis for a dent in his car and everybody was
pretty happy.
So, crisis averted, my truck is now parked backwards in my driveway,
ready for the Main Event. We line the tail gate with shots of
whiskey, tequila, and other assorted beverages. I step up, and show
everybody how it is to be done, take a shot, and slam it into the
back of my pick up. First up, was a very nice snifter glasses that I
used for drinking scotch. Next went all the shot glasses. After
that, were some champagne glasses. It turned into a riotous pitch of
broken glass, laughter, and destruction. After all those glasses
were gone, people (possibly due to my suggestion, it’s hard to
recall) just started going into my house and getting regular glasses
from my cupboard. Then, after those are gone, it goes turns into
beer bottles, and then empty fifths of whisky. Another sober friend
of mine had the presence of mind to take empty beer boxes and put
them on my tool box so a bottle didn’t accidentally go through my
back window. This lasted well into the night, even after most people
had left. We just sat in the garage, finished a beer, and slammed it
into the back of my pick up.
At one point, a whiskey bottle that refused to break was sitting in
the back of my truck. I jump up on the side, and try to lean in to
retrieve it. I loose my balance, and start to fall into a pickup bed
full of glass. I have no choice but to put my hand down and catch my
fall. I cut the palm of my hand to the bone, and proceed to bleed
all over the place. Several suggestions are made that I need
stitches, and I take my option to refuse treatment, as there isn’t
really any body there to drive me to a hospital. I wrap my bloodied
stump, and keep on keeping on as my grandfather would always say. I
think he would have been proud of me.
Somewhere along the line, a bottle got winged clear over my truck,
went across the street, and hit my neighbor’s windshield on his car.
Lucky for me, he was actually at the party, and when the damage was
found the next day it all got worked out. Unlucky for me, about 2:00
in the morning when it was down to just Slink and myself one of the
boxes seems to have been disturbed from the protective stance it had
in front of my back window. I step up, take my pitching stance, and
hurl a bottle into my tool box. It doesn’t break. I say what the
fuck, go and retrieve it, and try again. This time I am much more
successful. The bottle doesn’t break, but it managed to slip past a
box, and shatter my back window. All drinking stopped, and a very
sobering feeling came over me. I look at Slink, he looks at me wide
eyed, and we both start laughing. He tells me he is glad it was me
and not somebody else.
As I opened the driver side door, and he the passenger side door, we
could hear the glass cracking. Seriously, it was still sitting there
breaking. My back window was tinted, so it didn’t just shatter and
fall out, it stayed there with a nice beer bottle shaped hole in it,
and continued to fracture into a million pieces. It was pretty cool.
It was also the end of the party
The party of the FUCKING YEAR BABY!!! Roast knows how to throw them.
