Editor's Note: Alcohol is bad. We don't encourage underage
drinking, and if you do it, we'll kick your ass. This article isn't here to glorify
alcohol in anyway, it's for purely entertainment purposes. Everyone's had bad experiences
with alcohol, and this is just a way to view them in a humorous way. Drink only what your
body can handle, we'd never want to lose you and neither would your friends and family.
Remember that, but still have fun...just responsibly.
The Beverage:
One winter night in Pappy's (friend of GYEAH.com) basement
- I forgot my name, my life, how to correctly wipe my ass, and
probably my sexual orientation if someone tried anything new on me. Why did I forget all
these things? There's one suspect, one culprit for the robbing of my mind. The suspect is
round, fat, has a nice velvet like outfit on, with a gold hat. And no, I don't mean Shooks. It's known at the liquor store as Crown Royal : Special Reserves, but I call it
"Shitty Drunk Dead." But before we get to that, let me tell the entire story, it
goes a little something like this...
The Drunken Story:
My friends worked at a local supermarket in town, and every night when I visited them we
would admire the liquor isle. We were only 18 or 19, we had a lot of drinking under our
belt, but really not enough cash to get extravagant. We aspired to try out all the sexy
bottles that were available, but usually settled for a case of Bud Light or maybe some Hot
Dammmn. But we always dreamed of the days when we could sample some Grey Sky Vodka, some
Absolut, some....Crown Royal: Special Reserves. Crown Royal was the holy grail, and damn
it should be considering it cost over 40 bucks. Where's an underage drinker going to get
40 bucks? But damn, it looked well worth it. It didn't just come in a bottle, it had a
sexy ass velvet bag and glossy box that it came in. It was enough to make you wet..without
drinking a drop.
Well one night, we put our pennies together...hold up, wait. Okay so we didn't. We
acquired it by less legal means. But fluck it, we weren't old enough to drink it anyways.
So what's the difference on how we acquired it? If the Yankees win the World Series by
buying all the best players, they still won the damn series. So anyways, we had the
bottle. We smuggled it into Pappy's basement the way we smuggled thousands of other ounces
of alcohol...in our coats. We quickly told his dad, "You're the man Big Barry,"
then fled to the basement.
After a few moments of staring at the bottle in pure awe, it was decided that we all would
take a shot. Pappy took his like the soldier that he is, he made some faces but he choked
it down. Then the lid, yes the lid, was passed to me. Anyone who's drank Crown Royal will
know that it has a freakishly huge lid that also doubles as a handy shot glass. Well, I
took the lid, mentally said goodbye to my family, tipped my head back, and slapped the
Royal into my mouth. Instantly, I felt like death. My head dropped down and saliva started
flowing in my mouth. Everyone was apparently yelling my name and/or attempting to talk to
me. I had no damn idea, as I was just fighting off the urge to vomit about 2 bucks worth
of alchy on my friends' faces. I just stood there with my mouth open and drool just poured
from my mouth. Everyone kept talking to me, but I just turned away and stared at the kitty
litter for what they say was around 5 minutes.
Finally I came to, the urge to show up the Exorcist chick with my vomiting vanished, and I
was back being my annoying self. Everyone ragged me for a few minutes and of course I told
my story of near death a few times. I embellished it as if I lived out the movie
Flatliners, but hell...maybe I did. Rather than quit while I was ahead, we all decided a
few more shots were in order. We'd already broken the seal, hell why not let the waters
flow.
Once we put a crack in the dam, everything flowed from there. There were more shots in
that couple hours than in most wars. Suddenly a huge urge to urinate took over my body. I
leaped to my feet and whipped around, only to find myself staring at the kitty litter.
Without even thinking my zipper was down and I was pissing in that kitty litter like there
was no tomorrow. And this wasn't no ordinary piss, this was an Adam Sandler "Longest
Pee" type rainfall. By the time I was done that kitty litter looked like it would
have been suitable for midgets to mud wrestle in.
When I turned around from pissing, I noticed that everyone was laughing their asses off at
me, and I just finally comprehended that I had just pissed in the kitty litter. But my
time of living up the comedy wasn't long as I suddenly felt I should get my ass home and
attempt to call Jenna, who I was just starting to court at the time. When we did talk, we
were both usually nervous and didn't say much. Tonite I was ready to discuss everything
conceivable...twice. So I quickly told everyone there I had to get home, that there were
bigger fish to fry tonite. I hopped in the car (Editor's Note: Tsk Tsk) and was home in a
flash. I laid down on the futon to assemble my plan for the phone call, and within an
instant...passed the hell out. When I finally came to it was 5 AM and my breath tasted
like I had licked a toilet at a rest stop. Rather than face the day at such an evil hour,
I passed back out...
The Day After:
The next day I heard some stories about the previous Crown Royal-fueled night: Rumor has
it that Vertigo ended up puking in the lawn until he passed out in his own vomit, the next
morning Pappy's Dad, Big Barry, sent some kicks to Vert's mid-section but the star-nosed
jew wasn't moving for anyone. He had been converted to a kosher lawn ornament by the evil
liquor. And, apparently Pappy's mother was very livid about the fact that someone had
"poured a beer" in the kitty litter. Muhahah, if only that was beer. That was
something much worse than beer...that was piss...Crown Royal Piss. |
