b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Morning After Souvenirs » Post 1602908 | Search
This is a question Morning After Souvenirs

I once woke up in a tent after a particularly drunken holiday pub crawl, clutching a tap. There's a drowned, sunken village somewhere in Wales because of my act of petty theft, but I cannot remember. Tell us what - or who - you've brought back from nights out.

(Suggested by Bicycle Repairman)

(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 13:44)
Pages: Popular, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

« Go Back

Popped out for a few jars and a friendly chat with girl I fancied.
Nothing serious mind, but testing the water and finding out how she felt about me.
She suggests cider, I agree - although I seem to have some kind of genetic problem with cider (my dad is the same) in that it makes my legs wobbly even when I feel fine.
Not wanting to make a poor impression on the "1st date" I get stuck into the draught cider, matching her pint for pint. She's a tall girl who can handle her drink and I feel good to be with her and after more than a few pints am feeling warm and happy.
At this point I pop off the barstool for a p-break and manage to get my foot caught in the bottom bar, falling gracefully over.
She laughs. I laugh too. I return feeling much better and resolve to go steady on the booze.
Too late, I've already had enough for serious damage to occur.
Realising I'm now in a bit of a pickle I suggest we leave and I walk her home.
No more than 3 steps outside the pub I fall over, ON MY FACE.
She helps me up, we try again.
I fall over on my face on the kerb.
My sister arrives, laughs and calls a cab seeing that I won't get anywhere using my legs.
I stand and fall over backwards into the gutter where the rain runs down my collar.
I give up trying to stand and await my fate. I have been given a bag of frozen peas for my swelling face.
Time passes.
I awake in my bed and feel a bit rough. Standing slowly I walk towards the bathroom.
The duvet follows me. It is attached firmly to my elbow by a large crusty clot of blot.
I soak my elbow in the sink to remove the duvet.
A glance in the mirror reveals a face not dissimilar to the bit in Terminator where his face has been blown off with a shotgun.
I call work and tell them I'm sick.
I retire to bed a broken individual with a hole in my elbow like a cat's arse covered in ketchup.
One eyelid has split at the corner like an overripe fruit.

I no longer drink cider.
(, Sat 28 Apr 2012, 2:32, 1 reply)
have a click
for the cat's arse analogy.
good work
(, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 10:21, closed)

« Go Back

Pages: Popular, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1