1) Most people knew the true nature of Betty, which I had not yet determined, and
2) I was blinded by my underachieving drunken apathy
Betty and I never dated; in fact we barely even made-out a couple of times. I never confessed my feelings, but I’m pretty sure she knew my interest. Mostly we just drank with mutual friends until Betty invariably got to the point where she would:
A) Get kicked out of a bar for ethanol-induced epileptic-like dance moves that would result in a meeting with the floor
B) Punch a bouncer then the subsequent ejection
C) Walk home with some random guy then the subsequent ejaculation, and
D) Take me home and then the subsequent urino-flatulation
Betty was especially whorish toward me during a particular evening. We were all hanging out at our favorite Mexican Resto/Smoke-Free Dive Bar and of course drinking Boulevard and taking copious amounts of shots because not only were we drunks back then, but the bartenders knew us quite well and gave us ‘discounted rates.’ At this point in my relationship with Betty I was beginning to see her wild side and was losing interest in proportion to her drunken antics. Who am I to judge though? (=young and horny).
Betty and I were pretty fucked up as I was lassoing her steer-like dance movements. Just prior to the inevitable ejection, I managed to hog-tie her gaunt body (resulting from an eating disorder) and walk her home. I was pumped because there was NO WAY I wasn’t going to get laid… right? We’re walking home and as Betty swerves one way; I swerve the other way so if a cop sees us, through an optical illusion it will appear as if we are walking in a straight line (probably similar logic I used in my apparent attraction to Betty). So after two blocks Betty decides she needs to find an alley bathroom. With no regard for decency, she pigeon-toe squats and yanks up her slut-esque skirt revealing her panty-free outfit. Holy high-pressure urethral action… she’s going strong until the gravitational force overcomes her force of static friction against the brick wall and SPLASH!! Ass and skirt in a puddle of watered down piss. Classy.. My respect for her had long disappeared; my respect for myself was dwindling fast. I at least had to make sure she made it home safe though.
We got her home and she told me to lie on her bed. Hmm… sex with pee-butt or self-respect? Betty decided to bathe so I decided it might not be a bad idea to hold my self-respect hostage. As Betty laid her now fresh scented body into bed with me, she almost immediately small-spooned me and passed out. I rolled over on my back and put my hands behind my head as if to relieve some of the self-loathing that stemmed from ever bothering with this girl.
It didn’t even faze me that Betty’s ass was exposed as if telling my leg of the horror to come. As I’m consciously zoned-out, Betty’s ass suddenly (and not all that unexpectedly) blew its top in a raucous, disturbingly shrill, sustained fart. Then, as if my leg and olfactory senses hadn’t had enough, almost exactly in queue behind Betty’s noxious release, she started pissing all over my leg.
“Well Jake,” I told myself aloud, “live and learn buddy.” As I walked home in a thankful dejection, a now partially frozen right leg and a destroyed sex-drive, I realized this was where the rocks fell and I could only go up from here. I approached the dumpster in front of my apartment building and parted with my pants not because I was disgusted, but rather I was being reborn and parting with my old ways. I slowly walked into my building fully clothed and shoed save for my pants. With cold, naked legs, I held my head up high and entered the threshold a new man.
It’s disturbing, but probably funnier to think about all the times I’ve been pissed on. Like the time I woke up in my bed soaking wet being spooned by my muscle-bound, red-headed-ogre of a friend (who was fucking naked by the way..). The next day of his visit I told him under NO CIRCUMSTANCES is he to sleep in my bed. So I arise bright eyed Sunday morning to find the genitals of the red beast stairing deep into my eyes from the floor as that is where hepassed out wearing nothing, but MY winter coat, bordered by a shadow, only it wasn’t a shadow, it was…you guessed it… another god damn piss stain. It’s not a coincidence that this is the same friend who woke up in jail naked after his birthday. Then there was the time I passed out in the middle of my two friends (in my bed again!) and we woke up severely saturated. We reviewed each other’s boxer briefs and it was determined that they BOTH pissed. Then there was the time one of the same friends puked all over my Surficial Hydrology notes, which I continued to use the rest of the year after they dried. I couldn’t really get mad at him though because a while back I had decided to neatly break an estimated twenty beer bottles on his floor because, “he didn’t say I couldn’t.”
Why is this at all relevant? Well it’s not really, but the fact that my roommate decided to, and I quote, “Make 200 jello shots this Saturday,” possibly led to the retrieval of those respective lottery balls. On second thought it is extremely relevant. I invested in a new bed after finally giving up the Piss Bed (coined thanks to my friends overzealous consumption), which I was possibly conceived on. This amazing sleeping apparatus was not cheap!
My orgasmic pillow top bed has an accompanying magical comforter that has an overall symbiotic effect that can probably only be described by the comfort of an un-aborted fetus lying in a womb, or maybe a care-free sleeping kitten. (Did you know sometimes when I'm feeling down I google image search kittens. What?! I don't care what you think. THey're cute.)
I wake up every morning and carefully make her, talk to her in a comforting tone and reassure her that I’ll be home soon. If anyone ever pisses on her…. Oh man I will be so pissed.
Ok back to my roommate. We’ll call my roommate Fart Pennies to protect his anonymity. Fart Pennies’ jello shots are a legend on the north side of Chicago. His jello shots are also known as Fart’s Spooge, Bill Cosby’s, Drunk Snot, Fuck Butter and my personal favorite, Sex Jello. It’s rumored that anyone who consumes Fart Pennies’ Bill Cosby’s will get laid. Below is an image of my London roomate and current Chicago friend, that Jen-girl after she consumed several ounces of Fart's Spooge.
Unfortunately, statistical analyses have already been corrupted by biased methodologies. Regardless of the efficacy behind Fart’s Fuck Butter and sexual encounters, I’m confident that my little Ketchup Whore and I can put a check in the yes column.
So here’s to a piss-free north-side, good roommates, good friends, Fart’s Spooge and beautiful girls who have mashed tomato fetishes.
