Wednesday night. I’m at home, sitting at the computer. Reading, studying, stressing about how much shit I’ve got to do. No dammit, I’m not going out.

Cell phone rings. I look down, it is Kellie. No, dammit, no. I’m not going out, I’ve got too much to do. Phone continues to ring, then goes to voicemail. One new voicemail. Don’t do it Tom. I go back to reading.

“If we examine the polarity of the schism betweeen Catholicism and the traditional gods…”

Phone rings again. Dammit, I can’t go out tonight. No, not tonight. I look down, it’s Janden. Goes to voicemail. 2 new messages. Don’t do it Tom.

“The Byzantine empire emerged as a result of the remnants of the old Roman empire…” Phone rings again. Fuck. Fucking shit. I can’t go out tonight, no. Goes to voicemail. Ah hell, let’s just see what they’re doing. I’m not going out, no. I’m just gonna see what is going on tonight.

“Dude! It’s Janden! Let’s go to Joe’s! Are you down? Gimme a call, Kellie is going.”

You fuckers. You fucking fuckers. You cats are going out on a school night, and here I am trying to be good. Dammit. Damn you all to hell.

My Id goes nuts. “Drink. DRINK! Do it! Come on, you’re only young once! It’s not like you’re going to fail your classes! DO IT!”

My Superego replies. “Thomas! Stay home and study! Get good grades! Be a good student! No going out on a school night, you know this!”

And back and forth. And back. And forth.

The Id wins. I dial Janden’s number.

“What’s up dude?”

“What the fuck is up?”

“You wanna go?”

“Are you going?”

“Let’s fucking go.”

“I’m going.”

“Joe’s. 10 minutes.”

“I’m there.”

Fucking shit. I’m supposed to be reading and studying and writing and all that responsible student bullshit. Come on, I’m an adult. I’m supposed to be a good boy. Right?

I run, not walk down to Joe’s. I’m so excited about meeting my friends for a night of boozing I can hardly contain myself. I get to Joe’s. No line. I skate in.

I look around. Barely anyone here. Oh what’s up? I see the cute girl from Roman history. Oh hey, ‘sup? I see the girl from History of Mexico. My eyes survey the scene. Light crowd, but fun. Peeps I know. Hey, there is Janden!

He’s hammered. Damn, I love this guy.

“Tom! What’s up dude? Rum?”

We shoot Captain Morgan’s (‘cuz that’s what pirates drink). We shoot again. We shoot rum again. 3 pints of Sierra, and we head out to the patio.

Janden are in prime form. He’s pretending he’s a pirate, covering his left eye with his left hand. I’m laughing my ass off and making random conversation with the peeps outside.

This goes on for quite awhile. The waitress comes around and asks us if we want anything to drink. Does the Pope shit in the woods? Does a bear wear a funny hat?

Minutes later we’ve got shots of rum and another round of beer. Janden proposes a new shot.

“Drink it, gargle it, spit it back in the glass. Shoot it, and yell, “ARRR!!!”

I gargle the rum and it splashes in my eye. My eye is burning. I soldier through it anyway. I am so hammered I’m starting to slur. Fantastic then.

I can feel it. I’m starting to spin. Keep it together, Tom. Hold on, Tom. I stare at the floor for a bit.

“Janden, ready for another shot?”

“Fuck yeah!”

We head to the bar and order 3 more shots of rum. The bartender gives us the look that says, “No fucking way.” Awww, come on dude. I slip him a $20 and we’ve got another round (on the house).

I love this town.

10 minutes later (I think) we’re on the patio at our favorite table. Janden has his head in his hands. I poke him. Nothing. I shove him. He falls over. No response. He’s done.
Time to go.

I’m hammered. I’m seeing double. Triple, even. Time to go. I leave.

I get a greasy slice of pizza at the gas station. I come home, and sit down to write. I make a bazillion corrections to my horrible grammar and prose.

I think I’m going to be sick. Nah, I can make it. I finish my 7up.

And now… I sleep.