I love story threads! I know you do too!
Today at work I had a fun chance to retell one of my buddy's best stories. Not for the first time, I wished it was
my story.
In 1994, my friend Ben is at the movies with his girlfriend to see Natural Born Killers. He's very excited about the movie, and extra excited to see the trailer for Pulp Fiction. Ben grew up in Charlotte, NC, and when Ben and his lady sit down in the packed theater, they discover they are sitting next to Ric Flair and an attractive lady. In this contiguously seated foursome, picture Ben on the far left, and Ric Flair on the far right.
The trailers start up, and Ben (who is quite drunk and probably high) says to his girlfriend, at what he thinks is an appropriate volume, "If they don't show the Pulp Fiction trailer, I'm gonna kick Ric Flair's ass."
Several trailers play. Finally, the Pulp Fiction trailer plays. As it fades out, Ben, who is fighting to conceal his nerd boner, realizes that Ric Flair is leaning over both the ladies to say, "I guess I got lucky, huh kid?"
Ben says, "I love you, Ric Flair."
What cool stories have been told by your friends, instead of by you?
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He was laying there in his seat with a broken sternum from the seat belt. Seeing his favorite hat had flown off his head to land on the dashboard he pain stakingly reached out for it. He says the pain was terrible, he couldn't breathe because of the way lifting his arm put pressure on his chest. He said that raising the cap to put on his head was the single most strenuous thing he had ever done and by the time he'd touched his head with it, he was seeing spots. As it rested on his head he let go and let his hand flop,and leaned his head against the head rest.
If this is it...well...that's okay, he thought as he relaxed. He had his lucky hat.
The paramedic threw the door open, whipped his hat off and tossed it on the dashboard, and began cutting him out of his seat belt.
So, my friend, being a poor white boy, became very popular with the girls as someone to date to piss their parents off. My friend, being a young high school boy, didn't really care why girls wanted to date him, as long as he was dating girls. So, with the backdrop now set, let me tell you his tale. So, a korean girl from a rather well to do family decided that she would start dating my friend. This was solely a move to piss off her parents. Poor? Check. White? Check. They went on a couple dates and then the girl decided to rub salt in the wound by having my friend over for dinner with her family. He's a good sport and goes.
It is by far the most awkward, tense meal my friend has ever eaten. No one is saying a word. Everyone is exchanging glances. My friend focuses on shoveling his food into his mouth as quickly as he can. He finishes, and is just about to try to excuse himself from the meal with an invented obligation when the father, apparently having his fill of his nonsense, slams his hands on the dining room table and begins to start yelling at his daughter in korean. The daughter begins yelling back, the mother starts yelling. My friend eyes the door. Maybe he can just make a break for it. The daughter grabs his hand, still yelling, and leads him quickly up the stairs and into her room. She slams the door shut. She locks it. She shoves her bookshelf over the door. She shoves her bed over the bookshelf. She begins to disrobe. She looks at my friend and says, "I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me loud."
My friend, bless his heart. He tries. He gets his clothes off. But at that point the father has ran up the stairs and is beating on the door with his fists. My friend can't get it up. Fight or flight has kicked in and his body is saying fly, fly you fool, fly for the fucking hills and never come back. He gets his clothes back on, opens the window of her room, pops off the screen, drops himself out of the second row window, twists his ankle, runs to his car and drives off. He doesn't look back. He never sees the girl again.
Eventually, the floor gave out and the entire living room crashed into the basement.
They were but one band in a series to play that night, but I like to think, given their absolute dedication for ear-shredding loudness layered atop a bluesy drum spine and a grunge-styled bass, they were responsible for imploding a house with Rock N Roll.
This story was passed to him by knob.
I'm not sure I should tell it.
Someone get rank in here.
Or hell, knob if he is around.
Satans..... hints.....
This was like two days before he was scheduled to head off to Jump School. His CO was pissed as hell, and made him go anyway with a broken hand, threatening him with dire consequences if he voluntarily dropped out.
Of the 3 airmen from his base, he was the only one who made it through that Jump School class.
-Indiana Solo, runner of blades
I vaguely remember the time he came to post on the boards just so he'd have a witness, almost. A gang of drunk men in a jeep were marauding around his county, shooting at houses and being horrible human beings. Knob grabbed his child, barricaded himself in a bedroom, and clutched the only two weapons he had worth a damn; a useless fantasy dagger left behind by some roommate or something, and a semi-dull 8 inch kitchen knife. He gave us updates to let us know he and his kid were okay.
Those were some tense hours.
I was searching on the forums and found knob's tattoo story.
I love this one too.
http://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/8721839#Comment_8721839
Satans..... hints.....
Best tattoo for best reason
I really wish some of those were my stories.
I can, and never will, be able to do it justice. Sorry to be a cocktease, I guess, but I was really into hawaiian shirts at the time.
are you sure this is your friends and not the cat jazz band from The Aristocats
No the aristocats,
Not the aristocrats
how is this not obvious to you
Right?
I wouldn't want it to be ruined for you
As long as you record it in audio... 8->
He had a loose tooth at the time.
During the dream, according to my friend, Freddy punched him in the mouth. The imagined trauma was enough to wake him up, and when he sat up he felt something in his mouth.
He spit the thing into his hand, and was greeted by the sight of his loose tooth.
He said there's nothing like playing for a few million in roulette/craps, even if all totaled it only came out to $24.
Just saying "2 million on red" was an awesome feeling.
Do you own a microphone?
'cause this is a real fuckin' easy problem to solve.
Then you find me someone good at telling it and you put a microphone in their face.
Do your duty, son.
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that's gonna be on Knob
The reason I like it so much is because he was on the phone at the time and according to my other mate who was the passenger said very calmly "I'll have to call you back, I'm having a car crash."
I do adore the British talent for understatement.
I wish this was real...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9_OQR5EjPDk&list=PLDdv1UhKaheZmIazC41-ktYbet6PxEecF&index=1
Okay, time for another story from a friend of mine. A different friend than the one before. Though, this friend also has a similar penchant for getting himself into dumb situations and having great stories as a result.
So, my friend goes out to a bar one evening and is knocking back drinks as he is wont to do. As the evening progresses he starts exchanging looks with a woman across the bar. As it is getting near closing the girl goes up to him and asks my friend if he wants to go home with him. My friend is all for it, but his friends are telling him that it's a no fly zone. My friend decides that his friends are just being jelly, gets in the girl's car and goes off with her.
On the way to her house my friend his hungry and tells her to stop by a diner. As they are getting out of the car this is when my friend realizes that he hasn't really had a good look at this girl. She has a jacket on, collar up, a baseball cap worn low, the bar was dark... (And yes, this friend would definitely go home with someone he has never even gotten a good look at at, that's why he has great stories). Under the harsh lighting of the diner the girl takes her hat off and it... well, it's not good. His friends definitely got a better look at her than he did, the warnings were true. But my friend is a bit committed. They took her car after all. So, they order burgers and sit down at a table. They munch away, and eventually the girl excuses herself to the bathroom.
I guess my friend has decided that at this point he can't go through with it. He has to bail. But, you know, dude is still hungry so he scarfs down the rest of his burger and fries really quick and gets ready to bounce. He pauses, and we reach what is probably my favorite part of the story. He is still hungry. He grabs her burger and then runs out of the diner. He runs and runs and runs. Eats her hamburger. And then runs some more.
He stops, figuring he has made good distance. And calls a friend to pick him up. While he is waiting for his friend he looks around. He has happened to stop outside of a gardening store. The front of this store is set up like an actual garden, with things to buy, and is partitioned off a wall and a rod iron fence. My friend looks through the fence. He sees a garden gnome. In his drunken state he decides that he MUST HAVE THAT GARDEN GNOME. I guess stealing a hamburger wasn't enough for him that night. So, he hops the fence on the other side, grabs the gnome and gets ready to hop back over to the other side. Well. It's a bit trickier of a maneuver with one of your arms holding a gnome and he cuts his hand pretty damn on the top of the fence as he gets back to the other side. He calls his friend to meet him at a spot a little further down the road and calls it a night.
I find him the next day at his studio, hand bandaged to hell and back (as it would remain for weeks), with a garden gnome sitting on his coffee table, looking pleased as punch, which is when he explained this lovely little tale to me.
And I want to hear this Bwendan story
Then we decided to play a game. We would try and make passing lorries honk their horns. To do this we ran along the footbridge so we were standing directly above an oncoming lorry, then jump up and down and do the pulling gesture. If they honked we cheered happily. If they didn't honk we leant over the railing, flipped them the bird and screamed Fuck You at them.
Yeah, I never said it was an intellectual game.
We did this for a while. One lorry went past and didn't honk. For some reason only my friend D shouted at this one, maybe J and I were too busy smoking. So D leant over the bridge and hollered.
As the sound of the lorry receded we heard a shout and looked down to see a police car. And a policeman. Who would be forgiven for thinking that my friend D had just aggressively screamed FUCK YOU at him while flipping the bird. Looking up we saw two more policemen, one coming up each end of the bridge.
Does it sound dumb yet? It gets much worse. Because actually there was a lorry driver called Michael Little who had died a month earlier driving under this very footbridge because someone had dropped a brick through his windscreen. We knew this. There were still flowers on the bridge. But our brains did not manage to do anything useful with that knowledge.
The person who had done it had not yet been caught. So it's kind of obvious that we were at that point suspects. We were arrested by some extremely unfriendly police.
D was the only one handcuffed and the only one who had to sit inside a locked police car while we waited for a paddy wagon. We were confused by this and it was only after the event that we realised they must have thought he was being aggressive when he swore 'at' one of them. At the time J and I found it hilarious and mocked him the entire journey to the police station. The cop who had to sit in the back and watch us looked so unbelievably unamused.
Apparently several drivers had phoned the police to report we were dropping things from the bridge. Which of course we weren't, and were completely oblivious to the fact anyone might think that simply because we would never do that. We got to spend 12 hours in police cells nursing some spectacular headaches, got interviewed, fingerprinted, and they closed the M3 for an hour to search for any debris which would show we had been dropping shit.
They didn't find anything, obviously. We got let go with a warning and to this day, 10 years later, I feel guilty and embarrassed for being so amazingly stupid and wasting police time.