verilon wrote:weemadando wrote:verilon wrote:I am up for a good laugh...
ARE YOU SURE....
ALways...I'm being really depressed...need to laugh...
OK, characters in this tale:
Myself,
Tim, a good friend of mine,
Ross, a guy from college total rural/marginal redneck,
Tom, another guy from college, stoner and porn collector,
Doc, another guy from college, the focus of this tale...
Its nearing the end of semester and we feel the need to get drunk. The aforementioned five pile into a car to go to bottleshop and supermarket to get alcohol and other goodness. Doc and I split a bottle of tequila, the others split a slab of beer and a second slab is split amongst us all.
On returning to college we go to Tims room to get pissed. I'm going shot for shot with the Doc (I'm a very big person, he is a bit under average size), needless to say, he isn't coping well, but wants to keep up. After an hour we've finished the tequila and are on to the beer. Tom decides to put on some porn. Everyone is sitting around watching porn and laughing our arses off, when the Doc excuses himself to go the bathroom. Stumbling out the door and down the hallway we figure: "Meh, he'll be fine." About 10 minutes later he hasn't returned, Tim and I go looking for him. We search the bathroom he headed towards. I'm shouting his name, Tim is jumping up and looking into the stalls that are closed (this is a co-ed college, even the bathrooms). Eventually he spots the Doc in one of them and yells: "You're jerking off!" Doc mumbles something back and after a couple of seconds stumbles out of the cubicle and we all return to the room.
More beer is drunk and more porn watched. At this point Tom throws on some anal porn. After a while Doc says: "I'm going to bed." Everyone wishes him a goodnight and he stumbles out the door (again). We finish the beers and decide to go to Toms room and get stoned. On the way we check on the Docs progress, passing through common areas etc saying: "The Doc been through?" and always getting a yes. But the thing was, he wasn't answering the phone in his room. So we go to his room and check it. Empty. Noones been in there. We backtrack and look for the Doc. Eventually we come across a locked toilet stall that noone is responding to our shouts into. Ross opens the door with a knife and we are presented with....
The Doc, pants around his ankles, dick in hand, passed out with vomit down his front and a load blown down his leg slumped on the (unflushed) toilet. At this point panic sets in as we know he's drunk a shitload and might have choked on vomit. After Ross determines that he's breathing we immediately call the duty tutor. Anonymously as we all have something of a "reputation". Turns out the duty tutor is Zohreh, a middle aged frumpy Iranian woman, and her daughter, a med student named Mahsa. They come down and promptly do a HUUUGE double take at the sight of Doc like that and conclude that he needs to be transported into his room.
Well, after some effort his pants are restored to the regular position and he is dragged to his room. Whereupon we (the four of us still standing) spend the next few hours trying to make sure he doesn't choke on his vomit. Generally this consisted of a) Holding his head over his bin and b) prodding him and getting a moaned/mumbled response that was probably him telling us to "Fuck off and die."
It was at this point that we realised that we hadn't taken a photo and we spent the next few minutes scouring the college for a camera. None were to be found. So we just ordered pizza (with our own and some of his money - YES we're bastards OK!) and ate it in his room. Then decorated his room with pizza boxes, crusts, magic marker and shaving cream. Then got someone who had arrived to take a photo of that. We then decided that yes, he would live without us and went and got stoned.
The next day he stumbles into the dining hall to many guilty stares . . . with absolutely no recollection of what happened to him. All he knew was that he'd woken up in a trashed room.
After a few days we decided to tell him what he'd done. He didn't believe us. It took us two days to convince him that it was true. Poor boy. I think he's scarred for life.
*the end*
Nothing happened, but we DID sleep in the same bed...
