Yeah, I know, not a very original title, and I'm sure there's been worse, but there's a reason I don't hang out with my old friends any more. Some things you just can't live down... ever.
This was around 6 years ago, when I was 22ish. I had lost a good job about 3 months before hand, and had just had a job offer extended. I was to start orientation on Monday, this story takes place on Saturday.
My best friend lived with his girlfriend, and their roommates, another couple the same age. So my friend invited me over to his place one evening to hang out, nothing really planned.
When I get there, I notice an unopened bottle of cherry vodka. I used to be nuts around vodka, pretty much the only liquor I could stand to drink. No one else was really interested in drinking it, so I started doing something extremely dangerous; taking swigs right out of the bottle.
I'm trying to be careful, but the problem with drinking this way is that it's damn near impossible to gauge how much you've had until it's too late. My friend's room mates end up having another friend over, so there's 6 of us now. We're discussing all sorts of stuff, one of the topics of conversation being fighting. This will be important later in this story.
At some point in the night, I notice that the entire bottle of vodka is empty, at which point my friend (I'll call him J) grabs a bottle of rum. Typically I don't like rum, but I'm on a roll, so what the hell. The girls are just chilling, but us four guys start taking shots and chasing with beer. After my 7th or 8th shot, I notice that the rum tastes like water. Ordinarily I have some sort of cringe or gag reflex when taking shots, but now they're going down as if they're just water.
That should have been the biggest red flag on earth to STOP RIGHT NOW! But, of course, I'm drunk as a skunk so my judgement is fucked.
Fast forward to around 6am the next morning. I wake up and immediately notice several very disconcerting things. First off, I'm sleeping on J's couch, wearing a pair of shorts that don't belong to me, and not even wearing them correctly. Seriously, I had tried to put both my legs through just one leg of the shorts...
I also notice a sort of uncomfortable numbness around my face, and the front of my shirt has quite a bit of dried blood on it.
It turns out I woke up because my friend was making some noise while getting ready for work. As he passes me on the way out of the place, he see's me conscious and says "hey, don't forget to clean up before you leave." A feeling of dread comes over me, but I'm still a little (or a lot) drunk and exhausted, so I fall right back to sleep.
I wake up again around 2pm. J is already home from work and upstairs. (He lived in the upstairs portion with his GF, and his roommates lived on the first floor.) I stumble up the stairs where he's sitting there in front of his computer. He greets me in a rather subdued manner. I say, "J, what happened last night?"
Now, if you've never blacked out before, it'll be hard to understand this, but just try to imagine. You continue to operate on auto pilot, walking, talking, etc etc, but with NO, ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NONE, inhibitions, and furthermore, while you may SEEM like your're conscious, you aren't. Not at all. I blacked out only twice in my life, both in my early twenties, and now, even 6-8 years later, I don't remember a fucking detail. Not one.
So my buddy begins to tell me a horrifying story. We had all apparently finished the bottle of rum and were all quite drunk, especially me, who had finished my own bottle of vodka besides. At some point I followed J and his roommate out front to smoke a cig, at which point I started trying to get the roommate (we'll call him S from here on out) to fight me. Apparently our earlier topics of conversation had stuck in my mind. S, being the really good guy he is, refuses, but me, being the belligerently drunk jackass I am, will hear none of it. After many unsuccessful attempts to get him to fight me, I finally decide that the best way to get him to fight me is to walk up behind him and punch him right in the back of the head. Hard.
He proceeds to throw me on the ground and turn my face into ground beef. The next morning my lips were split in several places, and so swollen that it looked like I'd sucked a thousand cocks in a row. I also had a black eye and both cheeks were bruised to hell and back.
Well, I was apparently bleeding pretty badly, so they carried me back inside where the girls proceeded to absolutely freak out, and they all started to discuss whether I needed an ambulance. At some point during this conversation, I lunged at S again. Thank god, everyone held me back, otherwise he would have fucked me up... again.
A few more of these unsuccessful lunges, then I calm down for a while. So, a bit later, I decide I really need to take a piss, and what better place than in the refrigerator? Thankfully, J's girlfriend catches me standing in front of the fridge with the door open and my junk hanging out, and before I let loose, hurries me over to the kitchen sink (I'm way too drunk to climb stairs, and apparently someone else was in the downstairs bathroom). Well, my aim wasn't so great, so I ended up pissing all over the kitchen counter tops and cabinets. Then I proceeded to walk around with it hanging out. J's girlfriend took mercy on me and zipped me up.
At this point, I passed out for a couple hours, then woke up again around 2 in the morning with another hateful urge to piss. This time I apparently decided I'd be okay to climb the stairs to use the bathroom. Success! Well, almost. I sort of forgot to lift the lid, so I just ended up pissing all over the outside of the toilet...
I also apparently took my shorts off, then went into J's bedroom, woke him up, and asked him for a pair of shorts, which is how I ended up in shorts that didn't belong to me.
I also lost my wallet that night, which had like 40 bucks cash and my license in it. When I went in for orientation on Monday, I still had a headache. Everyone stared. Absolutely everyone. My boss, my new co-workers, the customers. I looked like I'd tried to fight a fucking gorilla. My story was that I had been mugged while coming out of the mall, and to my surprise, that worked, everyone believed it and took undeserved pity on me. It took about a month and a half before I looked mostly normal again, though I still have a couple of small scars on my face.
I tried to be a man about it. I apologized, cleaned up, all that. Furthermore, somewhere I found the guts to hang out with J again. We did hang out a few more times, but... well, it was never the same. I imagine this must be what it's like when someone knows you've murdered someone. They know the deed has been done, and it's always at the back of their minds. I completely lost touch with J, and all my other friends from those years. I haven't seen any of them in at least 4 years, and god willing, I never will.
TL;DR: Got blackout drunk, encouraged a friend to beat the ever living shit out of me, then got revenge by pissing all over his house.
Submitted November 30, 2015 at 05:05AM by Pizzalover68 http://ift.tt/1LHk7XX tifu
No comments:
Post a Comment