MIP

MIP   

    Dragging the case from the car, Dyl and I started making our way slowly up the road, stopping every few hundred feet to grab another beer and slam it down as quickly as we can.  By the time we’ve reached Colby’s house, we are a couple of drunken hyenas, carrying our disemboweled corpse between us.  That’s just how it is:  you bring your own beer to someone’s house, you have to drink as much of it as you can before you get there.  If you don’t, then some other vultures will.
    Colby’s plan was this: get to his house; drink a few beers, then walk up the road where this kid that so-and-so knew was hosting a “kegger.” A free kegger.  That’s how it goes when you have a lot of free beer and not a lot of friends; you make a lot of new friends.
    Anyway, by the time we showed up at Colby’s, Dylan and I were already half drunk, as were the rest of the party.  We immediately took our case downstairs and proceeded to get ourselves more drunk playing beer pong.
    Now we’ve been at Colby’s house for about an hour, and, with the exception of a few give-away beers, we’ve had close to thirty beers between us. Show, don‘t tell.  Colby’s friend so-and-so, and his friends, have since grown impatient and decided to head on out to the kegger without us, they’d give us instructions when we were ready to head up there.
    We decided we were ready to head up there.
    We’ve developed a small army of friends: Matt, Kyle, Twan, Tubes, Charnay, Ross etc.  All in all, if the cops had driven by our drunken parade moving up the road on our brief walk, the night would have ended a lot sooner than it did.
    We finally get to the house after receiving some very cryptic directions, and everyone is anxious to get their shot at some free keg beer.  The note on the door  went something like this: “Hey guys, it’s Paul’s birthday tonight so we don’t want the cops to get called on us.  We’d like it if everyone would be on their best behaviors and if they would ‘be cool, thanks a bunch - Paul’s roommates,” Who the Hell was Paul? So I took it upon myself to have the responsibility of finding out who Paul was.  Insert adage of cream rising to the top.
    It’s a “white trash” party.  We’re the best dressed guys at this party and we‘re ‘ragtag’ to say the least. Very under control.  I walk up to the nearest person and inquire as to who Paul might be; all they do is point at a table in the middle of the kitchen and walk away.  Paul is dancing on the table with a cup of beer in his hand and screaming.
    I walked up and introduced myself to Paul in my best “drunk fashion,” it was pretty clear that Paul and I were going to be good buddies, and everyone in our group began to breathe a bit easier.
    A bit later I was outside enjoying a cigarette and talking anything to anyone who may have happened to stroll within arm’s length of me, when I received a tap upon the shoulder.  Turning around, I found the beam of a flashlight directed upon my eyes.
    “Evenin' son, do you happen to know where we can find the owner of this house?” 
    The police showed up about the same time as the second keg.
    "Um, let me see if I can find him."
    I jumped out the back window about the same time that the second keg showed up.