"How many of those are you going to drink?" I asked, as my buddy Brian slammed down another can of Barq's.
"I can match you one for one man!" he replied.
Source: Pixabay.com
I was on my 10th beer. Brian was the only friend I had that didn't drink alcohol. You just can't slam down soda as if it were beer. It'll kill you.
I got up to pee and almost slammed into the wall.
"Do another impression of Scrooge McDuck!" I yelled out from my awkwardly crumpled sitting position against the closet door. Brian was a master at impersonating cartoon characters.
"Nobody, but nobody double-crosses Scrooge McDuck!" he announced in a thick British voice, followed by a hilarious high pitched quack.
Brian never disappointed.
There were three of us living in this rundown shack of a house. Me, Brian, and Woody.
The stove in the kitchen didn't light up. The refrigerator kept a steady 48°. Neither the sink nor the toilet worked in the middle bathroom.
You could say the place was a work in progress except that nobody was working on it.
Still, it was cheap enough that three guys with going nowhere jobs were able to afford the rent.
Woody and I both got up at 8:00 sharp to go to our day jobs. We got off, drank some beers, went to see our ladies, and generally gave no shits about life. I was certain that my chick was banging every dude in the neighborhood, but I didn't give a crap. I don't let em in too tight.
Woody was the same way. Get wrecked, wreck some shit, get shitfaced, let her sit on your face, wake up somewhere. It don't matter. Life is just a dream.
Brian was different though. He spent most of his time over at Mary's place. I'd only met her once. Shy as hell....didn't like to be around people. Our place was a constant ruckus. Not exactly a great environment for her.
After us guys had our fun on any particular evening Brian ended up outside on the phone in a heated conversation with her. Heated but quiet. She didn't like things that were loud.
"Another stomach ache babe?" he would whisper. "Did you go see a doctor this time?"
She had. "It was nothing." she told him.
I figured she must have IBS. Nervous stomach and what not.
We were sitting in a little brown canoe that Woody had brought home from who knows where fishing in the pond.
We'd roped off a small section of the backyard, ripped up a bunch of small pieces of paper, and written things like Buys a bag of Doritos or Grabs a 12 pack of beer.
We'd sit in the canoe and toss our lines, hoping to catch a scrap. The person sitting next to you in the boat had to do what the piece of paper said. It was a neat little diversion.
"Mary spent last night at the hospital. They think she has some kind of a bowel obstruction. I'm probably going to stay with her for a few days."
Somber Brian is no bueno Brian.
"You'll be missing out!" I said as I held up a scrap with the words Buys a 12 pack of rootbeer on it.
He looked at me with a sly smile, snatching the paper out of my hand.
"I'll grab it on the way back.... but don't expect to get more than two."
Whatever.
I prefer Miller.
