Stairs and Stares
During my 28 years on this green and pleasant Earth I have accumulated a number of cringe-worthy tales, usually ably assisted by liberal quantities of alcohol.

On this particular occasion I had been assisted to the point of coercion as various friends had ensured that I was frankly no use to man, nor beast. I can't remember if it was a special event, all I can recall is the grisly (well ok, not at all pretty) aftermath.

I had been helped to bed by some (male) friends who had lugged me upstairs, stripped me naked, for reasons only known to them (not that sort of tale, don't worry), and left me to sleep it off with nary a shaven eyebrow, scrotum or even a light Dirty Sanchez. This I can assure you, was most unusual.

I must have blearily swam back to consciousness at one point, my bladder posting subtle hints through my dreams, more than likely 'WAKE UP YOU DRUNKEN CUNT, YOU NEED A PISS!'. I vaguely recall stumbling out of bed, making it to the loo and siphoning the old python. Then things went awry. I stumbled out of the bathroom, intending to head left back to my bedroom.

My left foot went left. My right foot went right. Into thin air. The stairs were also to the right.

Witness a very drunk and battered BK lying naked and moaning on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, like Ed Norton in American History X, without, I'm pleased to say, neo-Nazis and buggery.

Trying to stand, I realised upon collapsing again, that I had badly fucked up my ankle. I crawled into the living room and hauled myself onto the sagging, and rather womb-like sofa, and fell asleep again.

I awoke on hearing voices. Peeling my eyes open I heard one in particular. "How man BK, you pleased to see us or something?" My vision swimming like Eric the Eel back into focus, I recognised Lyndsey, my housemate Dave's busty Geordie girlfriend, accompanied by Dave, and his mate.

I realised I was lying spreadeagled and naked on the couch with a badly sprained ankle, and it was, if you get my drift, morning, if so far from glorious as to be absurd. Yes, it wasn't just my ankle that was swollen.

All trace of pride and dignity lost to the winds of time, I gave a sheepish grin and hobbled from the room, my forlorn erection bobbing like a skinny pig snuffling for truffles.

Length? Lyndsey confided in me later she thought it had been quite impressive. Which was some small comfort.
( Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 13:24, 6 replies)

Brilliant!
Unexpected flashage!
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 13:33, closed)

Oh dear
Humiliation at its finest.

*sympathy clicks*
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 13:37, closed)

'forlorn erection bobbing like a skinny pig snuffling for truffles'
*clicks*
( wanderlust, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 13:39, closed)

Beautifully written
Brilliant, the punchline plays second fiddle to the telling of the story.

And that's not a bad thing.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 2 Dec 2008, 14:19, closed)

*boxofficelols*
*clicks*

you poor bugger.
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 14:26, closed)

That happens to all 28 year olds
IMHO

There are variations but that just about sums it up.
( buffet_the_appetite_slayer ٩(●̮̃•)۶ jacked in to the ICE on, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 16:57, closed)