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A Night to Remember

Originally published at ahighschoochorus.com

If you know me, you knw storytelling is one of my favorite pastimes. Well, storytelling… and that damn Macarena.

Back to my storytelling. The following describes actual events the way they actually happened, meaning it’s a total fabrication.

::A DARK THURSDAY NIGHT, IN SWAMPY AND SWEATY LOUISIANA::

7:58 – The OC finally finishes. I can’t believe Kirsten is flirting with another man. She obviously can’t see what I see, that Sandy loves her dearly.

I’m bored. I’ve got a gallon of ice cream (butter pecan). I’ve got “Taboo” (board game and adult film). I’ve got a positive attitude. These qualities and goods can add up to only one final outcome: SLEEPOVER!!! *pees everywhere*

8:20 – Oh man. I must have passed out. Why the hell am I wet? I’m sure it’s nothing.

8:21 – I call Tim. I tell him to bring the following: sleeping bag, boyish charm.

8:22 – Tim shows up with only a sleeping bag. Tim also brought Rodney, who is sort of a boy. I thought it was clever.

8:23 – I call Andrew, who calls Josh, who then calls Burt, who then calls shotgun.

By 9 o’clock to crew has finally arrived. I’m all of sudden nervous that the guys aren’t going to have fun. Andrew bean-dips Rod, easing the tension. I wanted to gather the guys in a safe and quite place so that I could share with them the itinerary for the night. Inside of the shower (wink) seemed to be the only place.

9:10 – As planned, we’ve already finished grueling games of Twister, Sorry, and a depressing game of Life. I know, hauntingly ironic. At this point the fun begins. We start to share secrets.

9:11 – Andrew begs me to call Emily Johnson, in hopes that I would coerce her into making out with him. I tell him to bag his own broads.

9:12 – Severely beaten, yet somewhat aroused, I manage to dial Emily Johnson’s cell phone number. We giggled.

11:00 – Dirty Dancing is almost finished and Rodney’s already asleep. Is it gay that this makes me upset?

By midnight, we’re all asleep and holding someone or ourselves. Rodney looks like an angel – assuming angels look like drug-addled rock stars that shake in their sleep like cheap wind-up toys.

Just like an angel.

Filed by Zach at January 11th, 2007 under Articles.