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This is a question House Parties

‘If rocking the house is a crime…then let me be guilty’. Not my words, Carol, the words of proto ravecore pioneers Genaside II. We all love a party – or do we?

There always used to be a girl crying on the stairs, who’d drunk too much vodka. Or someone would crap in the bath. What’s the most revolting/hilarious thing you’ve seen at a party? The worst house-trashing you’ve seen?

- This Weeks question from Richard Mcbeef IB

(, Fri 9 Oct 2015, 8:36)
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Pearoast from eleven years ago
...maybe more. I'd just got to university, and along with my wonderful new housemates (stoner and her boyfriend, pilled up nutter, pretty girl who hid in her room the entire time) decided to throw a house party. What better way to get to know each other, eh?

This involved... Well, bugger all people, really. Nobody turned up apart from one of my housemate's brothers, and a few of his mates from home. Turned out nobody had bothered inviting anyone, but anyway. I went to the pub for the evening instead, but was told about this the next day. The guy in question, who shall now be named Chris, as that may have been his name, killed off sixteen cans of Stella and a few pints down the local within three hours, and promptly fell asleep. Fast forward to that night. After Chris makes an attempt to get into one of my female housemate's beds, along with her and her boyfriend...

My housemate's brother wakes up, to see Chris squatting over a chair and a turd emerging. Not quite believing his eyes, he woke up my housemate.

"Er. Is Chris taking a shit on the chair?"

My housemate looked over.

"Chris, are you taking a shit on the chair?"

"Yes."

"...What the fuck are you doing! Stop it, you dirty bastard."

"At least let me finish."

By that point, he had indeed finished. Fast forward to... that night, again. A bit later on. My housemate's brother again wakes up, to find Chris squatting. Over a bin, this time. The kitchen bin, which he had apparently fetched from downstairs for the sole purpose of shitting in. A trip which involves walking past the bathroom. Again, the brother wakes my housemate up, and they both watch mutely as Chris unleashes the full watery wrath of his innards into the bin.

A few days later, I carry one of our many bin bags around to the front of the house for collection. What's that I spy through the huge rip in the side of one of the bags I'm carrying? Shit coated pot noodle pots? Oh, yes indeed. The binmen come, and go, and the bag remains. I depart for uni, and as I leave a nurse from the veterinary surgery next door walks over and starts moving our rubbish to their skip. Did I warn her about the shit filled bag with a big split in the side, just waiting to rip open?

Did I fuck.

I turned my headphones up, but the music wasn't quite loud enough to mask the sound of plastic noodle containers clattering to the ground, and the scream of terror.

I moved out of that house a week or two later.
(, Wed 14 Oct 2015, 10:02, 2 replies)

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