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January 21, 2008
A post that I made recently here got me to thinking about my college days and some of the trouble that we used to get into with cars and the like. That got me to thinking about my roommate for freshman and half of sophmore year in college..."Big Guy". It's a topic that I've thought of documenting, so I don't forget, for a long time.
His real name was Dave, and he was from a small town in PA called Quarryville in Lancaster county...Amish country. Dave was, well, a big guy...about 5'10-11" and I'd say at least 250-270 lbs. He was a fat guy. One of the girls from down the hall in our apartment building would always see him around the apartment complex or on campus at Penn State Altoona, and she could never remember his name...so she started calling him "Big Guy" and the nickname stuck with everyone. I always tried to call him Dave though just to be different. Dave was from a small town, and he had lost his Dad when he was a kid.
His Mom was everything to him, but she was very overbearing & Dave was happy to be away from home for the first time and "let loose" for a change. He was a wrestling star, a football hero, and a drama kid all at the same time in high school. They called him "Gus the kicking mule", after the Disney movie of the same storyline, since he was both the football team's kicker and a lineman. His high school football jacket actually said "Gus" on it instead of his real name! When he was one of the leads in the "Sound of Music" in high school, the drama team put an ad out with a picture of him wrestling with another guy at a match in order to drum up sales to "come and see Dave sing". He wasn't very sexually experienced from what I could tell, but he liked the ladies a whole lot. "Two tits, a hole, and an (optional) heartbeat" was a favorite phrase of his.
Dave had a car that he brought with him to college that his friends and family had all worked on to give him. It was an old 60s, Volkswagen Bug...eventually it would have a blue and white paint job with a big, white Nittany Lion's paw on the roof. We called his car the "Deathmobile" or the "Death Bug". It had a sunroof, and it was a standard shift of course. That was about all that worked on it though. The first time that I ever took a ride in it after we had met freshman year...we went up to campus (about a mile or two up the road from where we lived), and when we got there he stopped me before I was about to leave the car and go on campus.
"Wait a minute, lemme show you something if you ever take my car out for a ride.", Dave said.
He proceeded to show me how the car basically burned waaay more oil than it did gas, and that you had to put at least a quart of oil in it after every ride.
"You did this all the way from home??", I asked.
"Yeah, it's cheaper then getting it fixed I think.", Dave replied.
Then he showed me the huge stockpile of cases and cases of oil that he had in the backseat (Bugs had a small backseat and the engines were in the back of the car). I just shook my head in disbelief.
The "Deathmobile" had this electrical flaw where if you ever tried to turn on the car's headlights at night...the car would stall. We would constantly have people yelling at us, "You're lights are off!", when we were driving around at night...as if we didn't know already! The windshield wipers had one speed...super, super slow. It was therefore one of the duties of the guy that rode "shotgun" that he lean out the window at every Stop sign or traffic light and wipe off the windshield with a rag that Dave always had in the car. There was a hole in the undercarriage/floorboard in the backseat, which meant that in the wintertime you had to watch out for slush that would fly up in your face if you were in the backseat. One time, I tried to turn on the heat when we were on the way to the mall. It was snowing lightly outside...kind of a dry snow.
Dave said, "No, don't do that!", and the car immediately filled with snowflakes from outside as the heating system only took in air from outside of the car without first heating it.
The "Death Bug" would also have a habit of not starting correctly a lot, which required at least one person to get out and pop the clutch. One time, I made the mistake of loaning Dave and some friends of mine my car's jumper cables so they could jumpstart Dave's car. I was working on my car across the parking lot when I saw this huge flash of light and some smoke come out of the backseat of the "Deathmobile" as they were trying to jump start it. Everybody jumped back, and they ended up fusing a portion of my jumper cables to Dave's battery because of some arcing that took place.
Whenever we would get stressed out from studying or something, we would look at each other and say "Death Bug run", which meant let's go for a ride in Dave's car and relieve some stress by laughing and having a good time. We once drove all the way up to PSU's main campus in State College when one of our friends fell asleep in the backseat on one of these late night runs just so we could see his reaction when we woke him up and told him that he was over and hour from our apartment building.
We would also like to go for rides to the local Sheets convience store to get some, as we called them, "Death Dogs" or "Death Subs", which were hot dogs and sandwiches that were sooo cheap you wondered how they were able to make them for so cheap and, more importantly, what the hell was in them.
"Big Guy" was a pre-med major, and he had basically a free ride going to PSU since he was both from in-state and he had SSI paying for his entire tuition, books, and an extra few hundred dollars a month for expenses. He got SSI since his Dad had died when he was little. I think his Mom pretty much paid for everything else, and he used to literally jump whenever he learned that she had called..."When did she call? What did you tell her I was doing?". Dave wanted to be a either a doctor or an EMT, but he wasn't the most studious of people.
He and I were in the same Chemistry 101 class our first semester freshman year. For some reason, Dave sat down in the front (so he could shmoose with the professor I guess?) and I sat several rows back. One of us would drive the other everyday that we had class though. One day, after being up awakened most of the night by my other "occasional" roommate slam fucking the very same girl that had given Dave his nickname "Big Guy" in the top bunk of our bedroom (I had 4 roommates in a small, 2-bedroom apartment), I regailed Dave with the best comment that I had heard all night. The girl had said, "Sorry, I don't get to be on top much...", which caused Dave to roll around in the parking lot of our apartment building for a few minutes and cause us to be late to Chemistry class.
Our Chemistry professor was kind of odd. He would write in grease pen on this overhead machine while he was teaching, and occasionally he would write one of these symbols in the margin ( ====> ). This was his way of saying that we were sure to see this concept on an upcoming test. Dave, and a few of the friends that he had made in the front row, would always say "Test arrow..." in a low, barotone voice (Dave actually had a pretty good singing voice BTW) when he saw this...usually to some laughter from the large class (about 100-150 kids). One of the guys in the front row was this kid whose Dad became rich locally by selling some homemade pasta sauce...that's just a random memory on my part.
Dave and I would usually study for our Chemistry tests together. One time, we had been alternating between studying and watching some TV. There, I think, were some old Charlie Chan movies on. So, when it came time for us to go to our Chemistry mid-term exam, Dave said out loud, in his "best" fake, Chinese accent, as we entered the Chemistry hall, "Vee R heer fo Chem Midd-termmm". Sorry of that offends anyone...I told him not to do it...
As an aside, I had an "A" going into the final exam for Chemistry, and I did something extremely stupid. I figured out what I needed to get on the final exam in order to just pass the course with a "C". It was a score of 33%, but the test was going to be multiple-choice, two points for each question & 50 questions total (so that made it a 34%). Since I was burned out from my first semester of college (they never fully prepare you for all the reading and independant work that you have to do IMO) and this was going to be my last exam, I decided that I would study about a third of the time that I usually did for Chemistry (about 45 minutes). Dave, who needed to do a LOT better on the final exam to pass the class, studied waaay more than I did. In fact, when I was quizzing him on some stuff, I noticed that there was a lot of stuff that he knew that I didn't. When I got to the test, I looked at the first few questions (1, 2, 3, 4...) and didn't know the first thing about how to answer them. Only then did I know how much I was in trouble. I proceeded to "shit a brick" for the next 48 hours until they posted the test results. I had gotten a 36% on the final exam and a "C" for my final grade. I never figured out how much I needed on a test just to pass a class again...
As I said before, "Big Guy" loved the women. He loved hangin' out with them, being their buddies, hugging them, etc.. He also was a BIG time porn freak. One of the highlights of his week was veturing out to one of the local video stores and renting porn on a Friday night, mostly old stuff with Christy Canyon, John Holmes, etc.. I remember that one of his favorites was the original "Debby Does Dallas". He would watch porn on the couch at our apartment and get sooo excited that he would pump his hips in and out and make a "squish, squish, squish" sound with his lips...mimicking the sounds of a dick going in and out of a wet pussy. It was too funny to watch... "Big Guy" didn't get to watch much porn when he was at home...his Mom wouldn't approve I'm sure.
Being stupid freshman, we didn't realize the importance of immediately getting our names on the waiting list to get cable TV installed at our apartment. We ended up getting on a 3-week waiting list and having to wait that long in order to see ANY TV at all. The mountains around Altoona and the cinderblock construction of our apartment building apparently didn't allow for any TV signals to make it into our TV that the "slam fucking" roommate had brought from home. On the day after we finally got cable, "Big Guy" was happily sitting on the couch watching MTV, when the TV goes "CRACK" and dies.
"Big Guy" looked wild-eyed at me and said, "What's wrong...make it work!"
But no matter how much fiddling I did behind the set (it was one of those huge 1970s models with the big knobs and everything), I couldn't get it to work.
"Big Guy" said to me, "I've got a TV at home, but my car won't make all the way."
"I've got a car.", I replied, and off we were on a 4+ hour car trip to Quarryville, PA.
Quarryville was very, very different from where I grew up in the urbanized Northeast. They had one main street and had just gotten a Burger King recently, which was a big deal for the town. The movie "Witness" with Harrison Ford and Kelly McGillis was filmed apparently just down the road from where Dave lived. Dave claimed that the Amish banned anyone from having anything to do with the film, but he also said that some of his friends that were Amish came over one night to watch the film at his house. He said they had to hide the horse and buggy behind the group of houses where he lived so no one would know. Dave also told me many tales of cow tipping though, which I know is a bunch of baloney now.
Dave would get the town's monthly newspaper delivered to him at our apartment...it was about 6 or 8 pages long, if that. My Dad used to send me our state's biggest newspaper's Sunday edition every week so I could keep up on things, and that thing must have weighed 3-4 pounds. One time, Dave got his paper and exclaimed when he read the main headline, "Oh my God!!!"
"What happened?", I asked in reply.
Dave showed me the front of the paper, and in big, block letters (about the size of a coffee cup each almost) the main headline read: "Parade Route Changed". Apparently, they were repaving the town's main street, and they just decided to close down the entire street while it was being done. I guess they had never heard of doing one side of the street and then the other, but oh well. So, when the county fair came to town, then had to change the fair parade route that they usually went along, which apparently had never happened before.
I said to Dave, "My paper has huge stories in it weekly about this mob guy getting whacked and this guy going to jail for corruption, and this is a big deal??"
So, when we went to Quarryville, I didn't get to drive down Main Street, and we didn't go to Burger King. We did visit his Mom's house, and his Mom made us stay part of the night to rest before we left late at night to come back to school. We had some kind of bean stew for dinner, and Dave showed me the KKK newsletter that apparently everyone had dropped off at their door by the local KKK, whether they wanted it or not. Dave wasn't racist per se, but he wasn't exactly "in touch" with the black community being from a small town in PA. He used to say about all the gangster rap that was on MTV in the early 90s, "It all sounds the same to me...Shit bitch, fuck, damn!!"
One SUV that we saw driving around town had a PA license plate that read, CLAN C K, with an equals sign (=) that someone had scratched in it between the last C and K. I guess the Klan was a tad more accepted in that part of the state. Back when I was a kid, we used to ride by the house that apparently a big KKK guy owned in our city while we were on our bikes at night and throw stuff at the house. Oh well...
One of Dave's sisters had married an Amish guy. This particular Amish guy decided after he got married to turn away from the "plain" lifestyle and embrace electricity for his dairy farm. He was promptly thrown out (or whatever they call it) of the Amish community. Dave did indeed have some Amish friends that we went to visit while we were in town. When we went to visit one, they had no driveway (just ruts from the horse buggy) to pull into, so Dave said, "Just pull up on the front lawn. They won't mind." I think he (Jebediah or something like that) did, in fact, mind. He wouldn't come near my car at all when he spoke to us, and he kept looking at me leaning against my Camaro like I was the Devil and my car was the Devilmobile. It was slightly uncomfortable.
We did see something which I had never seen before or since...some Mennonite kids playing whiffleball in their front yard. Mennonites are Amish-like only they wear clothes with color in them, and they use cars and electricity and what-not. The sight of some little girl at bat hitting the whiffleball and then lifting her loooong skirt to run to first base is something that I'll never forget...weird, odd.
Dave's family and friends got a big kick out of my Northeastern accent and my words & mannerisms. They would constantly be asking me to say different words, and then they would laugh when I'd say them in my accent. It was funny. We went to a local fair while we were there, and they tried to impress me by showing me all the hog entries in the hog contest. When I wasn't that impressed, especially with the smell, Dave remarked, "This is where bacon comes from!"
I immediately replied, "No way, everybody knows that bacon comes from the supermarket Dave!"
The view from Dave's house was like a movie. The house was on top of a long, rolling hill, and there was this tiny, little brook running down by the dirt road that they lived on. I think there was a rickedy, little bridge that you had to cross to get onto their small property, and there were all kinds of big trees lining the hill up to the cluster of houses that were on top of the small hill. The main thing that impressed me was the rolling fields of hay, wheat, or whatever that literally blew back and forth in the breeze...just like you see in the movies! Where I grew up you could see out in front of you our very small 10' X 20' front yard, the concrete sidewalks and street, and then another row of houses right across the street with the same small front yards, and maybe some trees in the background...that's it. So, Quarryville was a different experience, but everyone was very nice.
Dave did get me good though while we were there. We were driving somewhere in his Mom's car, and we came upon an Amish horse and buggy in the road ahead of us. It was night, and you could barely see the big, orange, reflective traffic triangle that they all had in the back of their buggies and a little (burning?) light shining in the front. Dave said to me, "They love it when you lean out the window and wave to them as we pass." So, I did...I leaned out the window and yelled "HEY!" as I waved furiously to them. The little family of three or so, the man with a beard that was driving the horses especially, just meekly waved back without looking at us & with a very grim look on their faces. Dave had a good time laughing at me, "city boy", after that.
So, we left Quarryville late at night and made it home in record time. This was mostly because I decided that this jerk in an RX-7 with OH plates wasn't going to pass me on the PA turnpike...so we were "going like 200 mph" like Dave tried to say to me later as we were going into Chemistry class the next day.
"Nah, we were only going like 108 maybe.", I guessed in response, which caused some guy that was eavesdropping to laugh. Actually, my Camaro's speedometer pegged at 85 mph...so who knows how fast we were going. But if you're out there Mr. Jerk RX-7 Guy, I beat your ass all the way up the turnpike that night buddy...for about 2-3 hours...
One of the other things that Dave loved to do was drink. It, again, wasn't something that I guess he got to do a lot back home with Mom. Dave had an affinity for a lot of schnapps-type alcohols for some reason. Every Halloween at the apartment complex where I lived for 2 years, they had this thing called "Around the World". Our apartment complex was merely an old supermarket (complete with a huge parking lot) that had been converted into some college apartments. I think there were around 23 apartments, and I lived in Unit 18. The apartments were mostly arranged in a rough oval fashion inside the cinderblock building. There was a long, roughly oval hallway connecting all the doors of the different units, and the units were mostly laid out in the same floor plan. As you entered the apartments through a bulky, wooden door, there was a hallway, on the right was the entrance to the long, thin bathroom, and the living area was in front of you. On the right side of the open living area was the living room and on the left side of the open area was the dining room, complete with a big, glass covered, wooded table. Just off the dining room was the small, thin kitchen, and the two bedrooms (complete with big, wooden bunks beds) were located each off of the living and dining room areas, one a piece. This floor plan was pretty standard. I think I remember the rent being about $800/month total among the four of us roommates, which included basically nothing (trash pickup maybe).
The purpose of "Around the World", which I guess started long before any of us lived there, was to try and see how many times you could go from door to door, drinking along the way, around and around the complex. Each unit would sign up in advance to have a specific drink and/or theme. My freshman year we were supposed to have Kamikazes for our drink, but none of us ended up having enough money for the stuff to do it...so we had drunk people all night pounding on our door chanting "Ka-ma-kaze...Ka-ma-kaze...". We mostly just sat in our room and tried to have pizza and a movie that night, but it was rough. Some units would try and be sophisticated and have wine or champagne and others would have Long Island Iced Teas, Blowjobs (the drink silly), Screwdrivers, and various other hard drinks.
I never was a big drinker, but a lot of my roommates were prone to binge drinking. I used to joke that I had a picture of virtually every one of my roommates passed out, bent over the toilet in our apartment after an all-night bender. One time, one of my roommates sophmore year, Doug (we called him "Satan"...more on that in a minute) decided that it would be a good idea to "eat something before I drink to soak up the alcohol". The only thing was...he was pretty poor (we all were really) so he didn't have much to eat besides orange-flavored Tic-Tacs. So, needless to say...two full packages of Tic-Tacs and a whole lot of alcohol later, Satan was spewing orange puke all over our bathroom. I have lots of pictures...wanna see?
Two great drunk stories for you...one from each year that I was at that apartment complex. The first year, the "slam fucking" roommate of mine that I occasionally shared a bedroom with was on and off dating this one girl that he knew from back home that lived across town at another apartment building. This girl had a bunch of female roommates of course, and we'll call one of them Shannon, since I don't remember her real name. Shannon was a small girl, blondish, pretty, and thin. One of my other roommates freshman year, Paul (Paulie...again more on that in a little while) had a big crush on her, and we had to work on him for most of the year to try and ask her out on a date. He eventually did, but it didn't go very well...but I digress.
Shannon and her freinds had been drinking one night at our apartment complex, and she ended up crashing drunk on our couch for the night for some reason. I don't why her friends left her there, but whatever. Apparently, the layout of Shannon's apartment was such that where our couch was would have seemed like it was her bedroom and where Paulie and "Big Guy's" bedroom was their bathroom. So, Shannon woke up late night on a Saturday night, still drunk & hungover, and she decided to wander half-naked into the darkness to go to the bathroom. She walks into Paulie and "Big Guy's" bedroom, walks over to Paulie's hard, metal folding chair at his desk, sits down as she pulls her panties down, and, you guessed it, peed all over Paulie's chair and floor. That's NOT the funny part though. The funny part, I think, is that "Big Guy" stayed asleep through all this, but Paulie woke up as she came in the room! So, Paulie's watching through the darkness of his room and the haziness of just being woken up at this figure does all the things that I just described, and, in the middle of it all, he says to himself, "Nah, this can't be happening...I must be dreaming", and falls back asleep! The next morning, Paulie woke up early as he always did (he was in ROTC and liked to work out some), saw Shannon half-naked on the couch sleeping, and puts two and two together. Shannon woke up shortly afterwards, and she collected her things and quickly left in embarrassment. I'm not an early riser at all, and all I heard that morning were people coming into our apartment, going into the other bedroom, & then banging on the floor & laughing. Finally, I got up after about an hour or two of this only to find Paulie and "Big Guy" doubled over on the floor of their bedroom laughing. They had woken up most of the apartment complex to have everyone come take a look at the "wet spot" before they cleaned it up!
As another aside, these party boys way down the hallway had a habit of coming into our apartment on Sunday mornings, borrowing one of my Jimi Hendrix tapes with his version of the "Star Spangled Banner" on it, and blasting it as loud as they could in their apartment on their man-sized speakers...I think that's how everyone found out about the pee story that day. It used to be so regular that they would do that every Sunday (the Jimi thing...not the peeing thing) that I would just leave the tape on the dining room table for them so they wouldn't wake me up.
Not to bum anyone out now, but that girl Shannon ended up dying later that year in a drunk driving accident. She was riding with a girlfriend of hers or two and one of their stupid, drunk boyfriends that had decided to show off & go fast in his car while it was raining hard. He wrapped the car around a tree going too fast around a curve and killed Shannon (or whatever her name was) and injured everyone else. Paulie was kind of broken up about it when I told him...he wouldn't believe me at first. It was bad...don't drink and drive people.
Yet another aside, one of the ways that I got back at the "slam fucking" guy was to tape him and his latest fuck buddy while they were going at it. My Dad had purchased one of those mini-recorder things for me to use in class to tape lectures. Well, I never found a use for that recorder until I figured out how to tape over the red light that shone when the recorder was on & hold it up above me while the fucking and wall slamming was going on. We're talking an 8 or 9 on the Richter scale here people! How he didn't know that he was waking me up I'll never know. And yes, a lot of our apartment complex got to hear those tapes too. There's just a lot of moaning and bed creeking really.
The second year that we were at this apartment complex was the best night of "Around the World" on Halloween. We had decided to make our own special drink for the night..."Hell's Fire". It was in honor of our roommate "Satan" and me (one of my many nicknames was actually "Jesus"...no kidding...more later). Satan got his nickname because he was very into heavy metal (he was the main guy that initially got me into that as well), he wore black all the time (we're talking black sneakers and socks people), he had a very bad temper (you wouldn't want to get Doug mad...his veins would look cool when they popped out though), and he heard voices in his head (for real). The voices would come to him at night while he would be trying to sleep sometimes and they'd say "Wait up...wait up...wait up...". I know...weird, but I liked Doug a lot. He was a lot of fun to joke around with. Maybe I'll write some more on him later.
My nickname of "Jesus" came mostly from the fact that I decided to not get a haircut at all after first semester freshman year (my hair ended up being all one length and down to my butt by senior year...don't be jealous girls), I wore a thick, bushy, "Grizzly Adams" (if you remember that TV show with the bear in the wilderness) beard, and from this one game of volleyball that we played in the wintertime. Our apartment complex had this basketball court and a sand pit with a volleyball net next to it. One day on kind of a warm day in February freshman year, we played this epic game of volleyball. I was on "Big Guy's" team, and I made shot after amazing shot during the game. I always loved volleyball (got an "A" in it junior year!), and I was always tall, which helped out a lot. After every play that I made, "Big Guy" would applaud really loud and say, "That was JESUS on that play...yeah! Praise the Lord!!", and the name stuck. I've always liked to think of myself as being very Christlike.
So, "Hells' Fire" with Jesus and Satan hosting, some heavy metal music blasting real loud (probably some Slayer), an almost all-dark apartment...with just a few flashlights that we would point to people coming into our unit, then point to a few of the signs that we had made ("Hell's Fire", "Enter to the Realm of Satan" - extra points if you can name the Slayer song that's from, etc. etc.) for the occasion, and we would have them take a drink. The "Fire" was actually mostly cherry-flavored Kool-Aid, Southern Comfort (So-Co), and a "dash" of blueberry shnapps ("Big Guy's" idea obviously) & Bacardi 151 (which, if you're not familiar with hard liquor, is deadly). We actually would also put a line of 151 on our glass tabletop where we had the "Hell's Fire" punch powl and then light the 151 on fire for an added "Hellish" effect.
Now, keep in mind that Satan was drunk pretty much by the start of the "Around the World" thing, and I didn't know how to mix drinks, since I don't really drink. Well, the "Hell's Fire" was a big hit! Everybody loved the theme of wandering around our dark apartment, and the punch went down real fast (I guess cuz the Kool-Aid masked a lot of the alcohol). So, it's just myself and Satan at this point, since "Big Guy" was down the hall at a gangster-themed "barbershop" where he was playing the "Godfather". He had a big gold ring, slicked back hair & a fake Old World accent, and he would wave his hand & say to his "henchmen", "Give 'em a drink", as people would come into that apartment. If you've never had a "barbershop", let me tell you what it is. They put you in a chair, preferably one that can tilt back (these guys got a real barbershop chair...don't ask me where they did though), and they tilt your head back and mix the drink in you mouth by pouring several streams of alcohol into it. Then you swallow whole and get messed up real quick.
So, we're out of "Hell's Fire" in no time flat, Satan is drunk, "Big Guy's" nowhere to be seen (and he's the one that mixed the first batch of punch), and I've got a bunch of drunk people that want their "Hell's Fire"! Don't try this at home...I made the next 3 batches. At first, I tried to play it off like I couldn't make any more, but this one hot, drunk girl volunteered to make the Kool-Aid (big deal...that was the easy part) & she wanted me to the mix the rest. So I did, and I made the drink up with EQUAL PARTS of So-Co, shnapps, AND 151. Hey, I said I didn't know what I was doing, right? So, fast forward to 3 batches of that punch (with a hell of a lot of "punch" indeed) later, and the night is pretty much over...except for the carnage. I walked out our unit's front door, and what I saw looked like one of two things. Yanno when a bomb goes off and there's this space in the middle (in this case our doorway) and surrounding that space is a pattern of strewn-out bodies in a circular pattern...all radiating from the center? Also, yanno when you see in the movies someone mow a bunch of random guys down with a machine gun, and they're all laying out in the pattern that they got hit & fell in? Yea, that was the scene in our hallway, and no, no one died or was seriously injured. They all just passed out shortly after leaving our apartment and were apparently sleeping soundly. I guess there was about a dozen or so of them maybe...all satisfied customers I guess.
So, I go around our apartment complex looking for "Big Guy", and I find him & take him back to our place to show him the carnage. He took one look at the bottle of 151 (there should have only been a little bit gone from it I guess) that he had bought with his own money and he yells, "What the hell did you guys do, burn it?!?!"
"Well, yeah Dave...come to think of it...we did. And, we ran out a punch. So, I had to make more", I quickly replied. And then I told him about the equal parts thing, and he couldn't believe it.
Much later, I found Dave at another apartment drinking from this big 36 ounce (yanno the plastic cups that they give you at convenience stores?) cup of purple-looking liquid. Dave was now out of his gangster attire and had been "Around the World" at least once or twice by then...sampling the leftovers from everyone. I asked Dave, "What's in the cup 'Big Guy'?"
"It'ss grape soooda...thiz is my zecond one!!", he slurred back at me.
"What's in the cup?", I asked the two guys that lived in the apartment and were playing a video game nearby.
"Grain.", one yelled over his shoulder, like it was no big deal. It was grain alcohol...and grape soda. How original.
"OK 'Big Guy', let's put this down and go back to our apartment now", I said as I led him out the door and away from his drink.
"Oh, I'mm Okaaay.......man, I can't BELIEVE u guyz drank alll that one fiffy one..."
"Yea, that was something else Dave. Here, lemme hold up you up against the wall.", I said as I wedged most of my body up against his to hold him up.
While Dave was shorter than I was, he was waaaaay bigger, so I needed to kind of push him along the smooth, cinderblock wall as his knees started to buckle. We finally made it back to our unit, where Dave decided he was going to sleep in our doorway, then he rolled over our toilet & fell alseep after he finally got sick. I watched him most of the night, and, of course, took a picture of him sleeping draped over the toilet. When he woke up the next day, he had a big indentation in his forehead and arm from laying on the toilet seat. It was too funny...
To be continued and edited (note, if you see graphical smilie faces, that part has probably been edited already)...check back again...
Write your own Article
The legend of "Big Guy"
by MisterGuy January 21, 2008
A post that I made recently here got me to thinking about my college days and some of the trouble that we used to get into with cars and the like. That got me to thinking about my roommate for freshman and half of sophmore year in college..."Big Guy". It's a topic that I've thought of documenting, so I don't forget, for a long time.
His real name was Dave, and he was from a small town in PA called Quarryville in Lancaster county...Amish country. Dave was, well, a big guy...about 5'10-11" and I'd say at least 250-270 lbs. He was a fat guy. One of the girls from down the hall in our apartment building would always see him around the apartment complex or on campus at Penn State Altoona, and she could never remember his name...so she started calling him "Big Guy" and the nickname stuck with everyone. I always tried to call him Dave though just to be different. Dave was from a small town, and he had lost his Dad when he was a kid.
His Mom was everything to him, but she was very overbearing & Dave was happy to be away from home for the first time and "let loose" for a change. He was a wrestling star, a football hero, and a drama kid all at the same time in high school. They called him "Gus the kicking mule", after the Disney movie of the same storyline, since he was both the football team's kicker and a lineman. His high school football jacket actually said "Gus" on it instead of his real name! When he was one of the leads in the "Sound of Music" in high school, the drama team put an ad out with a picture of him wrestling with another guy at a match in order to drum up sales to "come and see Dave sing". He wasn't very sexually experienced from what I could tell, but he liked the ladies a whole lot. "Two tits, a hole, and an (optional) heartbeat" was a favorite phrase of his.
Dave had a car that he brought with him to college that his friends and family had all worked on to give him. It was an old 60s, Volkswagen Bug...eventually it would have a blue and white paint job with a big, white Nittany Lion's paw on the roof. We called his car the "Deathmobile" or the "Death Bug". It had a sunroof, and it was a standard shift of course. That was about all that worked on it though. The first time that I ever took a ride in it after we had met freshman year...we went up to campus (about a mile or two up the road from where we lived), and when we got there he stopped me before I was about to leave the car and go on campus.
"Wait a minute, lemme show you something if you ever take my car out for a ride.", Dave said.
He proceeded to show me how the car basically burned waaay more oil than it did gas, and that you had to put at least a quart of oil in it after every ride.
"You did this all the way from home??", I asked.
"Yeah, it's cheaper then getting it fixed I think.", Dave replied.
Then he showed me the huge stockpile of cases and cases of oil that he had in the backseat (Bugs had a small backseat and the engines were in the back of the car). I just shook my head in disbelief.
The "Deathmobile" had this electrical flaw where if you ever tried to turn on the car's headlights at night...the car would stall. We would constantly have people yelling at us, "You're lights are off!", when we were driving around at night...as if we didn't know already! The windshield wipers had one speed...super, super slow. It was therefore one of the duties of the guy that rode "shotgun" that he lean out the window at every Stop sign or traffic light and wipe off the windshield with a rag that Dave always had in the car. There was a hole in the undercarriage/floorboard in the backseat, which meant that in the wintertime you had to watch out for slush that would fly up in your face if you were in the backseat. One time, I tried to turn on the heat when we were on the way to the mall. It was snowing lightly outside...kind of a dry snow.
Dave said, "No, don't do that!", and the car immediately filled with snowflakes from outside as the heating system only took in air from outside of the car without first heating it.
The "Death Bug" would also have a habit of not starting correctly a lot, which required at least one person to get out and pop the clutch. One time, I made the mistake of loaning Dave and some friends of mine my car's jumper cables so they could jumpstart Dave's car. I was working on my car across the parking lot when I saw this huge flash of light and some smoke come out of the backseat of the "Deathmobile" as they were trying to jump start it. Everybody jumped back, and they ended up fusing a portion of my jumper cables to Dave's battery because of some arcing that took place.
Whenever we would get stressed out from studying or something, we would look at each other and say "Death Bug run", which meant let's go for a ride in Dave's car and relieve some stress by laughing and having a good time. We once drove all the way up to PSU's main campus in State College when one of our friends fell asleep in the backseat on one of these late night runs just so we could see his reaction when we woke him up and told him that he was over and hour from our apartment building.
We would also like to go for rides to the local Sheets convience store to get some, as we called them, "Death Dogs" or "Death Subs", which were hot dogs and sandwiches that were sooo cheap you wondered how they were able to make them for so cheap and, more importantly, what the hell was in them.
"Big Guy" was a pre-med major, and he had basically a free ride going to PSU since he was both from in-state and he had SSI paying for his entire tuition, books, and an extra few hundred dollars a month for expenses. He got SSI since his Dad had died when he was little. I think his Mom pretty much paid for everything else, and he used to literally jump whenever he learned that she had called..."When did she call? What did you tell her I was doing?". Dave wanted to be a either a doctor or an EMT, but he wasn't the most studious of people.
He and I were in the same Chemistry 101 class our first semester freshman year. For some reason, Dave sat down in the front (so he could shmoose with the professor I guess?) and I sat several rows back. One of us would drive the other everyday that we had class though. One day, after being up awakened most of the night by my other "occasional" roommate slam fucking the very same girl that had given Dave his nickname "Big Guy" in the top bunk of our bedroom (I had 4 roommates in a small, 2-bedroom apartment), I regailed Dave with the best comment that I had heard all night. The girl had said, "Sorry, I don't get to be on top much...", which caused Dave to roll around in the parking lot of our apartment building for a few minutes and cause us to be late to Chemistry class.
Our Chemistry professor was kind of odd. He would write in grease pen on this overhead machine while he was teaching, and occasionally he would write one of these symbols in the margin ( ====> ). This was his way of saying that we were sure to see this concept on an upcoming test. Dave, and a few of the friends that he had made in the front row, would always say "Test arrow..." in a low, barotone voice (Dave actually had a pretty good singing voice BTW) when he saw this...usually to some laughter from the large class (about 100-150 kids). One of the guys in the front row was this kid whose Dad became rich locally by selling some homemade pasta sauce...that's just a random memory on my part.
Dave and I would usually study for our Chemistry tests together. One time, we had been alternating between studying and watching some TV. There, I think, were some old Charlie Chan movies on. So, when it came time for us to go to our Chemistry mid-term exam, Dave said out loud, in his "best" fake, Chinese accent, as we entered the Chemistry hall, "Vee R heer fo Chem Midd-termmm". Sorry of that offends anyone...I told him not to do it...
As an aside, I had an "A" going into the final exam for Chemistry, and I did something extremely stupid. I figured out what I needed to get on the final exam in order to just pass the course with a "C". It was a score of 33%, but the test was going to be multiple-choice, two points for each question & 50 questions total (so that made it a 34%). Since I was burned out from my first semester of college (they never fully prepare you for all the reading and independant work that you have to do IMO) and this was going to be my last exam, I decided that I would study about a third of the time that I usually did for Chemistry (about 45 minutes). Dave, who needed to do a LOT better on the final exam to pass the class, studied waaay more than I did. In fact, when I was quizzing him on some stuff, I noticed that there was a lot of stuff that he knew that I didn't. When I got to the test, I looked at the first few questions (1, 2, 3, 4...) and didn't know the first thing about how to answer them. Only then did I know how much I was in trouble. I proceeded to "shit a brick" for the next 48 hours until they posted the test results. I had gotten a 36% on the final exam and a "C" for my final grade. I never figured out how much I needed on a test just to pass a class again...
As I said before, "Big Guy" loved the women. He loved hangin' out with them, being their buddies, hugging them, etc.. He also was a BIG time porn freak. One of the highlights of his week was veturing out to one of the local video stores and renting porn on a Friday night, mostly old stuff with Christy Canyon, John Holmes, etc.. I remember that one of his favorites was the original "Debby Does Dallas". He would watch porn on the couch at our apartment and get sooo excited that he would pump his hips in and out and make a "squish, squish, squish" sound with his lips...mimicking the sounds of a dick going in and out of a wet pussy. It was too funny to watch...
"Big Guy" didn't get to watch much porn when he was at home...his Mom wouldn't approve I'm sure.Being stupid freshman, we didn't realize the importance of immediately getting our names on the waiting list to get cable TV installed at our apartment. We ended up getting on a 3-week waiting list and having to wait that long in order to see ANY TV at all. The mountains around Altoona and the cinderblock construction of our apartment building apparently didn't allow for any TV signals to make it into our TV that the "slam fucking" roommate had brought from home. On the day after we finally got cable, "Big Guy" was happily sitting on the couch watching MTV, when the TV goes "CRACK" and dies.
"Big Guy" looked wild-eyed at me and said, "What's wrong...make it work!"
But no matter how much fiddling I did behind the set (it was one of those huge 1970s models with the big knobs and everything), I couldn't get it to work.
"Big Guy" said to me, "I've got a TV at home, but my car won't make all the way."
"I've got a car.", I replied, and off we were on a 4+ hour car trip to Quarryville, PA.
Quarryville was very, very different from where I grew up in the urbanized Northeast. They had one main street and had just gotten a Burger King recently, which was a big deal for the town. The movie "Witness" with Harrison Ford and Kelly McGillis was filmed apparently just down the road from where Dave lived. Dave claimed that the Amish banned anyone from having anything to do with the film, but he also said that some of his friends that were Amish came over one night to watch the film at his house. He said they had to hide the horse and buggy behind the group of houses where he lived so no one would know. Dave also told me many tales of cow tipping though, which I know is a bunch of baloney now.
Dave would get the town's monthly newspaper delivered to him at our apartment...it was about 6 or 8 pages long, if that. My Dad used to send me our state's biggest newspaper's Sunday edition every week so I could keep up on things, and that thing must have weighed 3-4 pounds. One time, Dave got his paper and exclaimed when he read the main headline, "Oh my God!!!"
"What happened?", I asked in reply.
Dave showed me the front of the paper, and in big, block letters (about the size of a coffee cup each almost) the main headline read: "Parade Route Changed". Apparently, they were repaving the town's main street, and they just decided to close down the entire street while it was being done. I guess they had never heard of doing one side of the street and then the other, but oh well. So, when the county fair came to town, then had to change the fair parade route that they usually went along, which apparently had never happened before.
I said to Dave, "My paper has huge stories in it weekly about this mob guy getting whacked and this guy going to jail for corruption, and this is a big deal??"
So, when we went to Quarryville, I didn't get to drive down Main Street, and we didn't go to Burger King. We did visit his Mom's house, and his Mom made us stay part of the night to rest before we left late at night to come back to school. We had some kind of bean stew for dinner, and Dave showed me the KKK newsletter that apparently everyone had dropped off at their door by the local KKK, whether they wanted it or not. Dave wasn't racist per se, but he wasn't exactly "in touch" with the black community being from a small town in PA. He used to say about all the gangster rap that was on MTV in the early 90s, "It all sounds the same to me...Shit bitch, fuck, damn!!"
One SUV that we saw driving around town had a PA license plate that read, CLAN C K, with an equals sign (=) that someone had scratched in it between the last C and K. I guess the Klan was a tad more accepted in that part of the state. Back when I was a kid, we used to ride by the house that apparently a big KKK guy owned in our city while we were on our bikes at night and throw stuff at the house. Oh well...
One of Dave's sisters had married an Amish guy. This particular Amish guy decided after he got married to turn away from the "plain" lifestyle and embrace electricity for his dairy farm. He was promptly thrown out (or whatever they call it) of the Amish community. Dave did indeed have some Amish friends that we went to visit while we were in town. When we went to visit one, they had no driveway (just ruts from the horse buggy) to pull into, so Dave said, "Just pull up on the front lawn. They won't mind." I think he (Jebediah or something like that) did, in fact, mind. He wouldn't come near my car at all when he spoke to us, and he kept looking at me leaning against my Camaro like I was the Devil and my car was the Devilmobile. It was slightly uncomfortable.
We did see something which I had never seen before or since...some Mennonite kids playing whiffleball in their front yard. Mennonites are Amish-like only they wear clothes with color in them, and they use cars and electricity and what-not. The sight of some little girl at bat hitting the whiffleball and then lifting her loooong skirt to run to first base is something that I'll never forget...weird, odd.
Dave's family and friends got a big kick out of my Northeastern accent and my words & mannerisms. They would constantly be asking me to say different words, and then they would laugh when I'd say them in my accent. It was funny. We went to a local fair while we were there, and they tried to impress me by showing me all the hog entries in the hog contest. When I wasn't that impressed, especially with the smell, Dave remarked, "This is where bacon comes from!"
I immediately replied, "No way, everybody knows that bacon comes from the supermarket Dave!"
The view from Dave's house was like a movie. The house was on top of a long, rolling hill, and there was this tiny, little brook running down by the dirt road that they lived on. I think there was a rickedy, little bridge that you had to cross to get onto their small property, and there were all kinds of big trees lining the hill up to the cluster of houses that were on top of the small hill. The main thing that impressed me was the rolling fields of hay, wheat, or whatever that literally blew back and forth in the breeze...just like you see in the movies! Where I grew up you could see out in front of you our very small 10' X 20' front yard, the concrete sidewalks and street, and then another row of houses right across the street with the same small front yards, and maybe some trees in the background...that's it. So, Quarryville was a different experience, but everyone was very nice.
Dave did get me good though while we were there. We were driving somewhere in his Mom's car, and we came upon an Amish horse and buggy in the road ahead of us. It was night, and you could barely see the big, orange, reflective traffic triangle that they all had in the back of their buggies and a little (burning?) light shining in the front. Dave said to me, "They love it when you lean out the window and wave to them as we pass." So, I did...I leaned out the window and yelled "HEY!" as I waved furiously to them. The little family of three or so, the man with a beard that was driving the horses especially, just meekly waved back without looking at us & with a very grim look on their faces. Dave had a good time laughing at me, "city boy", after that.
So, we left Quarryville late at night and made it home in record time. This was mostly because I decided that this jerk in an RX-7 with OH plates wasn't going to pass me on the PA turnpike...so we were "going like 200 mph" like Dave tried to say to me later as we were going into Chemistry class the next day.
"Nah, we were only going like 108 maybe.", I guessed in response, which caused some guy that was eavesdropping to laugh. Actually, my Camaro's speedometer pegged at 85 mph...so who knows how fast we were going. But if you're out there Mr. Jerk RX-7 Guy, I beat your ass all the way up the turnpike that night buddy...for about 2-3 hours...
One of the other things that Dave loved to do was drink. It, again, wasn't something that I guess he got to do a lot back home with Mom. Dave had an affinity for a lot of schnapps-type alcohols for some reason. Every Halloween at the apartment complex where I lived for 2 years, they had this thing called "Around the World". Our apartment complex was merely an old supermarket (complete with a huge parking lot) that had been converted into some college apartments. I think there were around 23 apartments, and I lived in Unit 18. The apartments were mostly arranged in a rough oval fashion inside the cinderblock building. There was a long, roughly oval hallway connecting all the doors of the different units, and the units were mostly laid out in the same floor plan. As you entered the apartments through a bulky, wooden door, there was a hallway, on the right was the entrance to the long, thin bathroom, and the living area was in front of you. On the right side of the open living area was the living room and on the left side of the open area was the dining room, complete with a big, glass covered, wooded table. Just off the dining room was the small, thin kitchen, and the two bedrooms (complete with big, wooden bunks beds) were located each off of the living and dining room areas, one a piece. This floor plan was pretty standard. I think I remember the rent being about $800/month total among the four of us roommates, which included basically nothing (trash pickup maybe).
The purpose of "Around the World", which I guess started long before any of us lived there, was to try and see how many times you could go from door to door, drinking along the way, around and around the complex. Each unit would sign up in advance to have a specific drink and/or theme. My freshman year we were supposed to have Kamikazes for our drink, but none of us ended up having enough money for the stuff to do it...so we had drunk people all night pounding on our door chanting "Ka-ma-kaze...Ka-ma-kaze...". We mostly just sat in our room and tried to have pizza and a movie that night, but it was rough. Some units would try and be sophisticated and have wine or champagne and others would have Long Island Iced Teas, Blowjobs (the drink silly), Screwdrivers, and various other hard drinks.
I never was a big drinker, but a lot of my roommates were prone to binge drinking. I used to joke that I had a picture of virtually every one of my roommates passed out, bent over the toilet in our apartment after an all-night bender. One time, one of my roommates sophmore year, Doug (we called him "Satan"...more on that in a minute) decided that it would be a good idea to "eat something before I drink to soak up the alcohol". The only thing was...he was pretty poor (we all were really) so he didn't have much to eat besides orange-flavored Tic-Tacs. So, needless to say...two full packages of Tic-Tacs and a whole lot of alcohol later, Satan was spewing orange puke all over our bathroom. I have lots of pictures...wanna see?
Two great drunk stories for you...one from each year that I was at that apartment complex. The first year, the "slam fucking" roommate of mine that I occasionally shared a bedroom with was on and off dating this one girl that he knew from back home that lived across town at another apartment building. This girl had a bunch of female roommates of course, and we'll call one of them Shannon, since I don't remember her real name. Shannon was a small girl, blondish, pretty, and thin. One of my other roommates freshman year, Paul (Paulie...again more on that in a little while) had a big crush on her, and we had to work on him for most of the year to try and ask her out on a date. He eventually did, but it didn't go very well...but I digress.
Shannon and her freinds had been drinking one night at our apartment complex, and she ended up crashing drunk on our couch for the night for some reason. I don't why her friends left her there, but whatever. Apparently, the layout of Shannon's apartment was such that where our couch was would have seemed like it was her bedroom and where Paulie and "Big Guy's" bedroom was their bathroom. So, Shannon woke up late night on a Saturday night, still drunk & hungover, and she decided to wander half-naked into the darkness to go to the bathroom. She walks into Paulie and "Big Guy's" bedroom, walks over to Paulie's hard, metal folding chair at his desk, sits down as she pulls her panties down, and, you guessed it, peed all over Paulie's chair and floor. That's NOT the funny part though. The funny part, I think, is that "Big Guy" stayed asleep through all this, but Paulie woke up as she came in the room! So, Paulie's watching through the darkness of his room and the haziness of just being woken up at this figure does all the things that I just described, and, in the middle of it all, he says to himself, "Nah, this can't be happening...I must be dreaming", and falls back asleep! The next morning, Paulie woke up early as he always did (he was in ROTC and liked to work out some), saw Shannon half-naked on the couch sleeping, and puts two and two together. Shannon woke up shortly afterwards, and she collected her things and quickly left in embarrassment. I'm not an early riser at all, and all I heard that morning were people coming into our apartment, going into the other bedroom, & then banging on the floor & laughing. Finally, I got up after about an hour or two of this only to find Paulie and "Big Guy" doubled over on the floor of their bedroom laughing. They had woken up most of the apartment complex to have everyone come take a look at the "wet spot" before they cleaned it up!
As another aside, these party boys way down the hallway had a habit of coming into our apartment on Sunday mornings, borrowing one of my Jimi Hendrix tapes with his version of the "Star Spangled Banner" on it, and blasting it as loud as they could in their apartment on their man-sized speakers...I think that's how everyone found out about the pee story that day. It used to be so regular that they would do that every Sunday (the Jimi thing...not the peeing thing) that I would just leave the tape on the dining room table for them so they wouldn't wake me up.
Not to bum anyone out now, but that girl Shannon ended up dying later that year in a drunk driving accident. She was riding with a girlfriend of hers or two and one of their stupid, drunk boyfriends that had decided to show off & go fast in his car while it was raining hard. He wrapped the car around a tree going too fast around a curve and killed Shannon (or whatever her name was) and injured everyone else. Paulie was kind of broken up about it when I told him...he wouldn't believe me at first. It was bad...don't drink and drive people.
Yet another aside, one of the ways that I got back at the "slam fucking" guy was to tape him and his latest fuck buddy while they were going at it. My Dad had purchased one of those mini-recorder things for me to use in class to tape lectures. Well, I never found a use for that recorder until I figured out how to tape over the red light that shone when the recorder was on & hold it up above me while the fucking and wall slamming was going on. We're talking an 8 or 9 on the Richter scale here people! How he didn't know that he was waking me up I'll never know. And yes, a lot of our apartment complex got to hear those tapes too. There's just a lot of moaning and bed creeking really.
The second year that we were at this apartment complex was the best night of "Around the World" on Halloween. We had decided to make our own special drink for the night..."Hell's Fire". It was in honor of our roommate "Satan" and me (one of my many nicknames was actually "Jesus"...no kidding...more later). Satan got his nickname because he was very into heavy metal (he was the main guy that initially got me into that as well), he wore black all the time (we're talking black sneakers and socks people), he had a very bad temper (you wouldn't want to get Doug mad...his veins would look cool when they popped out though), and he heard voices in his head (for real). The voices would come to him at night while he would be trying to sleep sometimes and they'd say "Wait up...wait up...wait up...". I know...weird, but I liked Doug a lot. He was a lot of fun to joke around with. Maybe I'll write some more on him later.
My nickname of "Jesus" came mostly from the fact that I decided to not get a haircut at all after first semester freshman year (my hair ended up being all one length and down to my butt by senior year...don't be jealous girls), I wore a thick, bushy, "Grizzly Adams" (if you remember that TV show with the bear in the wilderness) beard, and from this one game of volleyball that we played in the wintertime. Our apartment complex had this basketball court and a sand pit with a volleyball net next to it. One day on kind of a warm day in February freshman year, we played this epic game of volleyball. I was on "Big Guy's" team, and I made shot after amazing shot during the game. I always loved volleyball (got an "A" in it junior year!), and I was always tall, which helped out a lot. After every play that I made, "Big Guy" would applaud really loud and say, "That was JESUS on that play...yeah! Praise the Lord!!", and the name stuck. I've always liked to think of myself as being very Christlike.
So, "Hells' Fire" with Jesus and Satan hosting, some heavy metal music blasting real loud (probably some Slayer), an almost all-dark apartment...with just a few flashlights that we would point to people coming into our unit, then point to a few of the signs that we had made ("Hell's Fire", "Enter to the Realm of Satan" - extra points if you can name the Slayer song that's from, etc. etc.) for the occasion, and we would have them take a drink. The "Fire" was actually mostly cherry-flavored Kool-Aid, Southern Comfort (So-Co), and a "dash" of blueberry shnapps ("Big Guy's" idea obviously) & Bacardi 151 (which, if you're not familiar with hard liquor, is deadly). We actually would also put a line of 151 on our glass tabletop where we had the "Hell's Fire" punch powl and then light the 151 on fire for an added "Hellish" effect.
Now, keep in mind that Satan was drunk pretty much by the start of the "Around the World" thing, and I didn't know how to mix drinks, since I don't really drink. Well, the "Hell's Fire" was a big hit! Everybody loved the theme of wandering around our dark apartment, and the punch went down real fast (I guess cuz the Kool-Aid masked a lot of the alcohol). So, it's just myself and Satan at this point, since "Big Guy" was down the hall at a gangster-themed "barbershop" where he was playing the "Godfather". He had a big gold ring, slicked back hair & a fake Old World accent, and he would wave his hand & say to his "henchmen", "Give 'em a drink", as people would come into that apartment. If you've never had a "barbershop", let me tell you what it is. They put you in a chair, preferably one that can tilt back (these guys got a real barbershop chair...don't ask me where they did though), and they tilt your head back and mix the drink in you mouth by pouring several streams of alcohol into it. Then you swallow whole and get messed up real quick.
So, we're out of "Hell's Fire" in no time flat, Satan is drunk, "Big Guy's" nowhere to be seen (and he's the one that mixed the first batch of punch), and I've got a bunch of drunk people that want their "Hell's Fire"! Don't try this at home...I made the next 3 batches. At first, I tried to play it off like I couldn't make any more, but this one hot, drunk girl volunteered to make the Kool-Aid (big deal...that was the easy part) & she wanted me to the mix the rest. So I did, and I made the drink up with EQUAL PARTS of So-Co, shnapps, AND 151. Hey, I said I didn't know what I was doing, right? So, fast forward to 3 batches of that punch (with a hell of a lot of "punch" indeed) later, and the night is pretty much over...except for the carnage. I walked out our unit's front door, and what I saw looked like one of two things. Yanno when a bomb goes off and there's this space in the middle (in this case our doorway) and surrounding that space is a pattern of strewn-out bodies in a circular pattern...all radiating from the center? Also, yanno when you see in the movies someone mow a bunch of random guys down with a machine gun, and they're all laying out in the pattern that they got hit & fell in? Yea, that was the scene in our hallway, and no, no one died or was seriously injured. They all just passed out shortly after leaving our apartment and were apparently sleeping soundly. I guess there was about a dozen or so of them maybe...all satisfied customers I guess.
So, I go around our apartment complex looking for "Big Guy", and I find him & take him back to our place to show him the carnage. He took one look at the bottle of 151 (there should have only been a little bit gone from it I guess) that he had bought with his own money and he yells, "What the hell did you guys do, burn it?!?!"
"Well, yeah Dave...come to think of it...we did. And, we ran out a punch. So, I had to make more", I quickly replied. And then I told him about the equal parts thing, and he couldn't believe it.
Much later, I found Dave at another apartment drinking from this big 36 ounce (yanno the plastic cups that they give you at convenience stores?) cup of purple-looking liquid. Dave was now out of his gangster attire and had been "Around the World" at least once or twice by then...sampling the leftovers from everyone. I asked Dave, "What's in the cup 'Big Guy'?"
"It'ss grape soooda...thiz is my zecond one!!", he slurred back at me.
"What's in the cup?", I asked the two guys that lived in the apartment and were playing a video game nearby.
"Grain.", one yelled over his shoulder, like it was no big deal. It was grain alcohol...and grape soda. How original.
"OK 'Big Guy', let's put this down and go back to our apartment now", I said as I led him out the door and away from his drink.
"Oh, I'mm Okaaay.......man, I can't BELIEVE u guyz drank alll that one fiffy one..."
"Yea, that was something else Dave. Here, lemme hold up you up against the wall.", I said as I wedged most of my body up against his to hold him up.
While Dave was shorter than I was, he was waaaaay bigger, so I needed to kind of push him along the smooth, cinderblock wall as his knees started to buckle. We finally made it back to our unit, where Dave decided he was going to sleep in our doorway, then he rolled over our toilet & fell alseep after he finally got sick. I watched him most of the night, and, of course, took a picture of him sleeping draped over the toilet. When he woke up the next day, he had a big indentation in his forehead and arm from laying on the toilet seat. It was too funny...
To be continued and edited (note, if you see graphical smilie faces, that part has probably been edited already)...check back again...
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