Edison Part Two
We've had a few more drinks. The alcohol has dulled Douchefriend's senses, but they have sharpened mine. I scope out the place as he struggles to stand upright. I notice a pretty woman wearing a tiara dancing around like a lunatic and figure that she is having some sort of celebration. I point her out and tell Douchefriend that he should try talking to her. So he does.
"Hey, are you a princess?" he asks.
"Excuse me?" she looks a bit confused.
"You have a tiara. Are you a princess?" he asks again.
"No. It's my birthday," she giggles.
"Whatever, it looks like shit anyway," he says drowned out by the music.
"Oh, yeah, the party is bumping! What's your name?" she smiles at him.
They talk a little bit more and she takes him out to the dance floor. I'm a bit dumbfounded, but a smile crosses my lips as I see him "dance" with her. I watch him gyrate his hips and pound his (now erect) member against her rear. He then proceeds to "cwalk" and flail his arms like a dying whale as he bends his knees, trying to get as low as he can to the floor.
"Hey what's up with the birthday girl?" I say to the hardbody next to me.
"Oh, she's celebrating her 27th birthday party. Luckily she found a babysitter in time," she responded.
"What? She has kids?" I'm a bit concerned.
"Two, actually. She had twins and so shes raising them by herself. She's single too!"
I grimaced at the thought of douchefriend being a father. Douchefriend is making his way back to the bar, a big smile across his face.
"Did you see me with her? She's hot!"
"She has children. You should probably stay away," I warn.
"Fuck that. I'll just fuck her and leave. That's what she wants anyway."
He makes his way over to the bartender (this one is wearing a red vest) and asks him what their cheapest beer is. He orders 2 cans of 4 dollar Pabst Blue Ribbon and makes his way toward me. He hands me one of the bottles.
"Hold this for me, I gotta tie my shoe."
"Is this for me?" I'm a little shocked.
"No, I wanted to buy her a drink," he responds. Shock is replaced by a wave of understanding, rushing over in a tidal fashion.
He finishes tying his shoe and makes his way back to the dance floor, only to realize that a hairy Armenian is now dancing with the princess. It is already too late when I notice he is fuming, making his way straight for the Armani clad douche dancing with "his woman". I try to stop him but he is already poking the guys shoulder. The guy turns around and gets greeted by a splash of PBR to the face.
"What the fuck?! You little fucking"”" the Armenian spits out in a thick accent, the hairs on his beard standing on end.
"You thief! I was dancing with her, you terrorist mother fucker," he spews, throwing more beer on the already raging Middle Eastern man.
The man pushes douchefriend and he flies across the dance floor, hitting the leg of some fat bimbo, who spills her purple drink all over douchefriend's shirt. Instead of getting up, he just sits there, motionless for at least 10 seconds before he starts convulsing and screaming. He is spitting racial slurs and flailing his legs, scuffing the floor with his soles. I'm covering my face as I push my way through the crowd and help him up and drag him as fast as I can into the men's bathroom. I sit him up in one of the stalls and I slap him in the face.
"Just let me get one more drink, and we can go," he says to me.
"Are you fucking kidding me? I think you've had enough."
Then a thought occurs to me. Maybe if I get him drunk enough, he can pass out and he won't cause any more trouble.
"Fine. One more drink then we go."
We make our way to the bar (skillfully evading the birthday party) and I watch out for security who I know is probably looking for douchefriend by now. Douchefriend is leaning on the bar, his weight on his elbows. He asks the bartender (the one with the green vest) what types of beer they have.
"Well, we have Amstel Light, Coors, Budweiser, Newcastle...Blue Moo"”"
He is interrupted by a furious douchefriend who grabs at the bartenders vest. He pulls as hard as he can on the fabric, ripping off several buttons as well as knocking a glass tumbler onto the floor, shattering it.
"What the fuck? Get the fuck out of here!" the bartender screams.
The bartender, shaken, grabs his walkie talkie and calls for security. Douchefriend has fallen to the floor and is having a hard time standing up. There is nothing I can do but watch as the bartender jumps up and down, waving his arms above his head.
"SECURITY! SECURITY! HERE! HERE!"
Two burly Samoans come up to douchefriend as the bartender points at him.
"THAT FUCKER THERE. HE FUCKING RIPPED MY VEST OFF. I WAS JUST TELLING HIM WHAT BEERS WE HAD, AND HE RIPS MY FUCKING VEST!"
They pick up douchefriend (who is screaming bloody murder) and escort him outside, and I follow from a distance. They unceremoniously throw him onto the ground, telling him "don't ever come back or we'll call the cops". He flicks them off and screams "FUCK YOUR CLUBBBB!" at the top of his lungs. Eventually he stands up and dusts himself off, looking strangely composed.
"Well, that's another place we can't go back to. I hope you're happy."
"This place sucks anyway, fucking bitches everywhere. Like this bitch over here...hey you! Where'd you get that hat?" Douchefriend is pointing straight at some hardbody who is walking by and who is wearing this horrible leopard print beret.
"Milan!" she responds.
"Bullshit." he retorts as he makes his way to valet.
I'm taking out my wallet and he notices this and says "I'll handle the tip, I got it."
I see him take a bunch of quarters out of his wallet.
"No, it's alright," I say, "it's not a problem. I'll tip him."
I take a few dollars out of my calfskin wallet, and make my way to the driver's side and I notice he's standing beside me.
"I don't want you to talk shit behind my back, I'll tip him."
I hand the valet some money and get in the car. I hear douchefriend say "here you go" and I see him throw some change at the valet, most of it falling on the ground. I cringe as I watch the valet pick up each penny and quarter, and I'm having an anxiety attack because the car won't go and I think I'm stuck here because everyone is looking but I realize that the parking brake is engaged so I disengage it and drive away as fast as I can.
"I'm taking you home," I say to douchefriend.
"But..why? It's so early yet..." he seems oblivious to the events that have unfolded in the last few hours.
"I have to return some videotapes."