Fuck My Liver

The following may disgust you or cause you to crack open a beer instantaneously.  Either way, you will think less of me.  Same can be said about any story, I guess.

Sergio didn’t spend his freshman year hitting the books; rather he furthered his education and involvement in binge drinking.  That training and dedication still pays off to this very day.

This particular night, Sergio found himself chaperoning a keg at an off campus frat house.   Several beers consumed had Sergio primed for pong action.  Can’t really remember the outcome, but my blood alcohol was on its way to reaching a new high score.

Several more shots of the Vladimir vodka proved to be too much.  I left the meat fest to grab some grub.  The problem was I had no fucking idea where I was going.  The goal was to end up at 10^th street so that I could walk across the bridge to my dorm.

Strolled down a few side streets and realized that the street numbers were counting up.

15^th - 16^th – 17^th So blasted, I must have turned around multiple times only to experience the same result.    My tank was on E and consuming fumes.   I mentally prepared myself for an emergency crash landing.

Call it luck, there was an abandoned mattress looking me dead in the face.  Not at somebody’s house.  Outside somebody’s house, in a desolate alley way.  Flipped it right side up on the pavement… Peace at last.

Oh shit, the spins had kicked in and induced severe vomiting.  Lift my head up to see there were actually people partying, still carrying on, probably wondering why the fuck some kid is puke stricken invading their garbage pile.  It wasn’t well lit; perhaps they thought I was a raccoon raiding their trash?

The flood light was too bright; they definitely saw me take that fateful plunge.

Somehow, I regained my composure and magically headed back to my desired destination.  Yeah, I was that guy.  Fuck My Liver.

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