The Dog Days of Summer
As previously mentioned, I was not the experienced drinker that I am now back in high school. Only on a few occasions did I drink and you’ll soon see why. I guess I just wasn’t ready for the chaos.
One of my buddies that I routinely played hockey with was having a party one summer evening. Before the party, we went with a couple other friends and got beer and decided to start early. We head to an empty parking lot in town and start drinking. I have no idea how many I had, but it wasn’t many before I was feeling it.
People start to show up at his house and the party is underway. I am fuzzy already. Shit, I’m 16 and haven’t really had much experience with this sort of thing. I came to the party with grand aspirations of hooking up, but ended up hoping to leave without throwing up. I’m talking non-sense to good friends, strangers, and hunnies alike.
The party quickly gets wild. Someone has already thrown up outside and one of the guys is running through the street buck-naked. I can’t even comprehend what’s going on. Realizing the state of mind that I’m in, one of the guys decides to use me for a good laugh.
“Pat, you should definitely eat something if you’re feeling the alcohol. It’ll soak it up. Here, you want some beef jerky?” Yeah, great! Thanks a lot. I take a piece and start to chew. Something is wrong and the guys are cracking up. The look of disgust on my face must have been priceless as I spit out what I come to realize is Pup-Peroni, the dog treat. Ugh.
There’s only one way to live down the nickname of Pup-Peroni for the next six months and to get that awful taste out of your mouth. And that’s with more alcohol. Fuck my liver.
