The next night I am out with my little brother again and he is off flirting with these english girls his age and I am off with my friends my age. My friends and I are smoking a giant b, and I was silly, stupid, drunk. My brother asks me if he can go off with his friends to the bar down the block and me like a fool agrees. After ten minutes of smoking, I go to get the car and decide to call it a night because I am about to pass out at this point.
I start the golf cart, and ride over to the bar where he said he would be at. I look in and I do not see him. Then I think, well maybe he is at the other bar on the other side of the island. I ride over to the other side and it is 1 am and I am about to fall asleep at the wheel. All of a sudden my cart stops. I am riding in a dirt road, taking the short cut in a fucking golf cart. Seriously, it wasn’t charged? How was I supposed to know the cart would run out of gas. The island is only 3 miles long!
Then these two giant black man appear, out of literally no where and I could barely see them. They actually ended up helping me and said they would hold the cart for me-which they actually ended up doing. I then walked to the bar I was at originally thinking that maybe my little brother would show up there. I get to a table with these french people and I see my little soufflé and then I do the unthinkable. I stand up, go to the balcony and puke down the stairs. Thank god, it did not hit anyone.
My little soufflé turned out to be helpful in the case that him and his friend drove me home. Then I get to the house and scream into my mother’s room, (take in account that I am drunk and tired) and yell, “MOM! I can’t find my brother, I almost got raped and I crashed the golf cart.” Only one of those things I said was true (couldn’t find my brother. It turned out that little shit was at the bar that I looked for him at the whole bloody time! I don’t think I drank until 5 the next day.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment