When I was 18
I rented a place with two friends of mine. One night all of us where out partying late and brought home a mate who was too drunk to get home by himself. He slept in our living room. When I laid in my bed for about an hour, I started hearing loud noises from the living room, things where obviously falling over and being destroyed, but -being pissed ourselves- none of us bothered to check out what the fuck was happening. After more than an hour of hell happening right under my bed, our mate stumbled trough my room, into the bathroom. When I heard him fall over, I got up and went to see if he wasn't drowning himself. He laid there in the bath, with all his clothes on, in VERY hot water. His smell made me vomit myself, so after I cleaned both of us up, I went to see what had happened.
Now this is very difficult to describe, but I'll do my best. He had vomitted, pissed AND shitted all over our living room; then had launched himself and slid through it on his belly, several times. He had used the brownreddish mixture to make an abstract painting on our wall. He had taken a dump in a bag with clothes and on our couch. The stuff was on the windows, electrical sockets, the tabel, the stereo,... You name it and it was covered in shit, piss and vomit.
Of course everybody who even remotely knows the guy gets to hear this story, even to this day we tell it enhousiasticly to new people we meet. Now it's even on the net.
Serves him right, messin' up my living room.
(miet, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 17:46, Reply)