The Most Wasted I Have Got #2

I’ve already told you one story of me getting extremely wasted, so if you liked that story you may also like this one, if you didn’t like that story you probably won’t like this one either, so go put the kettle on and get a sense of humour!

This second story takes place in Derby. Derby is the lucky city I now live in, and while many Nottingham Forest fans might not want to live behind enemy lines, I’m not like most people; in fact my psychologist even suggested I’m one of a kind and need special attention. Anyway, “what does this have to do with your story?” is probably what you’re thinking. Well reader, I need to set the scene and get my word count up.

The plan for the night was go to my local pub with my acquaintances for some cheap pints of larger then to return to my flat for some illegal substances, while discussing the state of the economy and society, just like every Monday night. But little did I know that this Monday night would be a lot different to the ones that came before it. The night started as it should have done, we had a few beers at my flat and headed to the pub. We had a few beers and chatted the night away. With it being a Monday I’d had a busy drug-filled weekend and found that I still had two pills on me. So I thought I better get rid of these little things. The best way to get rid of pills is to take them. You could always sell them but that’s bad, because people that sell Class A drugs are very bad people and should be in jail because they are bad. You could just flush them, but I paid good money for these pills, I’m not going to flush them, that is just a waste of money. So I took one and continued to drink.

Of course after a while I started to feel a lot better. By now I’d had quite a few pints and was defiantly in an intoxicated state. Everything at this point was fine, until Graham left the table to get a drink. This is when things start to come apart. A girl came to our table and asked for the free stool, but I told her that Graham was sat there and she responded; “OK, calm down!” At this point it would be funny to shout; “I AM CALM!!” in a joking-sort-of-way. A few minutes later my phone rang so I went outside to answer the call and talk. After the phone call I went to walk back into the pub but was met by a big bouncer who told me I was not allowed back into the pub. I asked him why and he told me that I had been screaming at a regular customer saying that I had a bomb! This was a load of bullshit. This bitch that got me into trouble was not even a regular, I was a regular to the pub, and so were the people I came with. We went to that pub every-fucking-week! The bouncer wouldn’t even let me in the pub to give Graham his coat back; I was wearing it because it was really cold. This caused me another problem; I was in the beer garden which is situated at the back of the pub. I had to leave threw the back gate, which was new to me. I hadn’t been in Derby that long and wasn’t sure where I was going. So I just walked into the nearest pub, which didn’t look like a pub from the outside. I ordered a pint and took out my phone to text Rob seeing if he could explain to the bouncer what really happened, what I’d really said and if I could return to the pub. Rob informed me that they wouldn’t let me back in the pub, so I decided to stay put in this new pub. I’d already started talking to some of the chaps at the bar anyway.

After a while I decided to nip to the toilet and take the last pill I had on my possession then I returned the bar. After chatting to a few of the guys drinking there I noticed that they were all gay, maybe this should have made me realise that I was in fact in a gay pub. But I didn’t take that fact in until Rob sent me a text that read; “Dude, you’re in a gay pub. GET OUT NOW!” But I was too far gone. I couldn’t leave this pub in my state. I needed a little time to get my head together, so I stayed. And I’ve got to say I had a great time with those bowel bangers. They were some of the nicest guys I have ever met. Let me just state, that I was not leading them on, it was clear from the moment I walked in that pub that I was straight, seeing as none of the guys picked me up on their gay-dars (which are radars for homosexuality). So I had a few more drinks and then left the pub. I cannot remember walking home or how I got home, but once back in my flat I met up with my flatmates and started smoking weed.

As I mentioned before the plan was to talk about social and economical issues just like every Monday night. But I was currently finding it hard to speak. After a few spliffs I was gone. But then the fire alarm went off, more than likely caused by us, but we never did find out. So the whole of my block had to go outside, bear in mind that this was about 2.30am, once outside I was taking on the chin. Being well-known as a stoner does tend to mean people blame you for such things as fire alarms, and as I lay on the cold concrete floor rolling around I was finding it hard to defend myself. After the fire alarm we all poured back inside, but not for long. A few minutes later the fire alarm went off again causing more problems for me, because walking was becoming very difficult at this state and holding back the vomit was equally as hard. Once again as I lay on the floor I began to think maybe I should call it a night. The fire alarm was stopped again and I returned to Frenchie’s room to pick up my beer, I remember leaving his room and not being able to walk, so I crawled to my room on my hands and knees. I climbed into my bed and fought with my clothes as I pathetically attempted to remove them. And eventually I fell asleep.

The moral of this story is you should never shout at strangers in a pub because they might be moody bitches that will get you thrown out, never take drugs without your friends being with you and go to gay pubs because homosexuals will buy you drinks.