Randal…

If you ever find that girl who makes you think, “Damn… I could end all debauchery right here,” tread lightly, my friends. It’s like Indiana Jones and the lost temple of oh fuck, I just stepped on another trap.

So I don’t get into a lot of lasting relationships. It’s mostly been one-night-stands and one-week-flings for me, but I will occasionally find someone who does more for me than get me to stand at attention, so to speak. The last chick to rein me in was also the last chick to dump me, and right after that happened was the last time I took a night out on the town with my friend Randal.

Randal is the type of friend that we all do and don’t want. He’s crazy as shit, and he can make your life a living Hell if you decide to let him. But damn, will that ride through Hell be fun as… well, fun as Hell. So like I said, he’s crazy as shit, and nobody wants that around them 24/7, but Randal’s also the friend who you don’t hear from very often. In my case, I hear from him whenever the shit hits the fan and I go into a dark void of depression. Don’t ask me how he does it, but he always manages to text me right when I’m in the blackest of spots.

So on this particular night, Randal decides to take me to a bonfire. I’m not the biggest fan of bonfires, to tell the truth. It’s not that I don’t like the atmosphere; it’s just that I sweat so damn much, even in the dead of winter, and what better than a big ass fire to exacerbate that. At any rate, other than the fire, nothing much is raging at the moment. I do have to admit, though, that I did not see a single girl who was not extremely hot. Maybe they put something in the drink to intensify beer goggles or something. I don’t know. But whatever it was, I didn’t even know where to start in terms of which one to talk to. Soon as I’m ready to start my game, Randal says, “Man, this party blows. I know somewhere better.” Before I can yell no, he just yanks me by the shirt and drags me back to the car.

Next party. Middle of nowhere. Mosquitos biting the shit out of us. I think we were on a blueberry farm or something. All I know is that it was pitch black out, and while the girls there sounded like they might be fun, most of them were already in the dirt with some other dude. We hear a gunshot, grab another beer and head to the next party.

We’re driving for a good 45 minutes when I just flat out ask him, “Man, do you even know where we’re going, or are you just hoping to find something?” All he has to say is “Don’t worry, dude, I got a couple more stops tonight. You’re not getting home before the sun comes.” We finally make the next party after a few minutes of silence. At least this one is inside for a change. Unfortunately, I’m dripping sweat, but luckily nobody really cares all that much. It’s mostly just loud music and grinding at this point. Randal’s breaking open a bottle of something fierce, trying to set up flaming shots with ice shot glasses. Some chick is in the corner puking all over somebody’s laptop bag. I’m dancing with this random girl whose face I haven’t even seen. I just have to stop for a minute and say, by the way, that I am by no means an ass man, but “damn…”

I’ve enjoyed this party, and it’s dying down a bit since it’s getting late. Randal says we’re not done yet. He’s clearly drunk, but he won’t let anyone else drive his car, and I can’t get a ride from anyone else right now, so I reluctantly get in the car, making sure my phone, two numbers richer, isn’t still in the house. It’s at this point that I realize Randal happens to be a better driver when he’s not sober. Maybe his reaction time and what not is a little off, maybe he’s swerving a bit, but he’s actually using a blinker, he’s actually stopping for red lights, he’s actually going the speed limit. We reach the next party a couple minutes after hitting the road.

I have to say… I love house parties. Not apartment parties, not little shack in the middle of nowhere parties, but house parties. This place was definitely where we should end the night, should there be a party going on. There was a pool and a Jacuzzi in the side yard, and from the looks of the exterior, the interior probably had the biggest TV and best sound system you’d ever seen. But there was one big problem. There was no party. The house looked dark and empty from the front, but Randal says “we’re goin’ in.” At this point, I’m just following his lead. When we get to the door, he pushes the doorbell, which makes no apparent noise, but lo and behold, somebody answers the door. She’s covered in what looks like the stuff from the inside of a glow stick, and there’s a piece of tape over her mouth. Before either of us can say anything, she hands us both a piece of tape as well. This is where things really start creeping me out, but I go along with it for now. After all, she was really hot.

So the inside, albeit dark, was almost as nice as I predicted. We went straight to the back of the house where there was a big TV and a big couch, a few love seats, the works. The only things lighting the room were glow sticks, and everyone was talking in whispers. For a minute I thought it was a drug party or something, but I didn’t see any mountains of white or anything. I decide to sit on the floor next to the girl with the least glow stuff on her – also one of two girls with tape still on her mouth – and take the tape off my mouth. Before I got it off, she pushed it back on and smiled. I’m a little confused, but I do what I’ve been doing the whole night: just go with it. She stands up and nods for me to follow her to the next room. Once we’re in there, she shuts the door and pulls me up against her. We take the tape off and make out for a bit. You can guess what comes next. We both leave the room a bit later, sans the tape. There wasn’t much more memorable to the rest of that party while I was there. It wasn’t until a few days later that I figured out I was basically part of a home invasion of some family that was away on vacation.

All in all, not my craziest night with Randal, but it was still pretty fun. As far as that first thing I said goes, I think I need to give Randal a call if he doesn’t get to me soon. What happened to me? I could really use a night to remember.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s