Shave our Souls

This story goes back five years to my early days of BINGE DRINKING. During my first semester away from home, a bunch of friends who were renting their own house threw a party for a friend's 25th birthday. The place was packed and everyone was drinking heavily. One of my friends, a more quiet type got carried away. He polished off a Mickey of scotch, had three beers and inhaled a whole Phillies Blunt cigar (He was NOT a regular smoker) within two hours. I knew what was coming. He covered his mouth and ran upstairs. Half the crowd followed him. We found him standing in the middle of the living room with a VERY DAZED look on his face. Puke was streaming down his back and onto the floor. According to witnesses, he aimed his mouth at the ceiling in a feeble attempt to delay upchucking until he made it outside. Instead, the resulting ERUPTION almost hit the ceiling, fell down and splattered the back of his jacket. After cleaning him up, we put him to bed where when passed out, he had his eyebrows shaved and goatee clipped. Later on, I got sick. I gulped a beer too fast and found my stomach starting to heave. I ran to the bathroom, holding the puke in my mouth, intending to spit it into the toilet and not be heard. Instead, I violently heaved and whoed. The penalty for getting sick at this party was having one's head or beard shaved. As my friend was already BALD, he had his goatee clipped. As for me, I had a good winter coat on my head. I left the party BALD as a BILLIARD BALL! Needless to say, my landlady from East Germany was pretty shocked when I returned the next morning to sleep off the hangover. Yet, I did not learn from that lesson.

Signed Shnottle Malik

Previous Page   /   Tell a Friend   /   Index   /   Mail Me   /   Next Page

Last modified: