BillsFanNC Posted October 9, 2005 Posted October 9, 2005 Wow, that sure brings back some memories. We lived in a band house in the Oak Square area of Brighton/Boston. Pretty squalor-iffic conditions, but we didn’t care because we were just a bunch of kids. Not a care in the world. Anyway, we were up all night practicing and drinking gin, which was a luxury because we were dirt poor and mainly drank cheap beer. But that’s neither here-nor-there. So, we’re done practicing and we’ve killed off the bottles of gin we had, and we all go off to our cardboard slabs to pass out. A few hours later, I have to use the head. So I go in to the bathroom and flick on the light. To my surprise, there’s a rat doing the dog-paddle in the toilet. I kick the lid down with my foot and slam the bathroom door behind me, to try and trap that sucker in the bathroom. I go over to my buddy Tommy’s cardboard slab and nudge him with my foot. “Hey, Tommy.” I say. No response, which wasn’t a shock because we were up pretty late getting loaded on warm gin. “Hey, Tommy.” I say again, and kick him in the ribs. “What the **** do you want, man” says Tommy. “Dude”, I say, “There’s a huge rat in the toilet.” “No way!” “Way!” “Well what are we gonna do?” Neither one of us were thinking too straight, and I was further hampered because I was sitting on a golf ball at that point. “Look, man” I said, “I’m going in. Whatever happens in there, just don’t open the door.” “I owe you my life, dude” (writer embellishment) So I go in, plunger in hand, like an ancient warrior headed into a dragon’s lair (more embellishment) and slam the bathroom door behind me. I kick open the toilet seat. I look at the rat. The rat looks at me. And I go medieval on his ass, and plunge that dude like he just ate my whole village. He thrashed. I plunged harder. He thrashed some more. I smoked a cigarette. He thrashed one last time. I fell for it and lifted the plunger. He had used the air in the plunger bulb to ride out my suffocating blows. He was a worthy opponent, but I was sitting on a golf ball and I would not be denied. I thrust one last time and pushed all the air out of the plunger, holding him under for what seemed like an eternity (writer embellishment, probably a minute and a half). The game was done. I removed the instrument of death (come on, man, it’s a freaking plunger), saluted his valiant effort, and flushed his carcass into the unknown. 469767[/snapback] Whenever the "What poster from TSW would you most like to have a beer with..." poll comes out, you've got my vote. Hilarious stuff.
Recommended Posts