Short Stories

When the Cup Runneth Over

A friend of mine, now brother-in-law (long story) once started out as a mild mannered college student living on his own for the first time. Little to his knowledge, at the time, he was moving in with two of the devil’s advocates. Us advocates would eventually mold and sculpt this individual into the man he is today.

Right around the first few months of rooming with this young man, he became abruptly aware of the fact that all bachelors of the likes of us did was eat, sleep, and drink. And boy did we ever drink! Consuming a fifth of liquor in a day was even easier than calling in sick to work at a job you care nothing about losing.

Well, the time came when a rough day had befallen this friend of mine. He looked to us, his dear friends, his comrades, his brothers-in-arms for a little bereavement. We took it upon ourselves to help him out with our good friend “Jack Daniels.” After all, Jack has been witness to many counseling sessions and would be the perfect grievance remedy.

The evening moved along, and the liquor quickly disappeared. It did not take too long until Jack went.

And after the Jack went by by, the Bacardi went, then the Smirnoff. Yikes! This grief counseling stuff is expensive. Soon my friend was no longer saddened, but sloshed. Eventually he was so irretrievably drunk that he passed out and was carried up to his bed and left for dead.

After the evening was over, we all went to bed to sleep off the intoxication.

Not too long after everyone was fast asleep I heard a faint gurgling noise coming from the other side of the room. I dismissed it and went back to sleep, only to be awakened again by an even louder version of the first unsettling disturbance. I rolled over and strained my eyes to see through the darkness towards the other side of the room. There I witnessed a truly disturbing and unforgettable sight. My friend sits up, with eyes wide shut and proceeds to purge himself of all the night’s sins. Let me tell you, he must have had more sins than one would figure, because he kept right on purging them; all into his lap. He wiped off his face with the back of his drunken limb, made a chomping noise with his mouth, then fell back to rejoin his fence-leaping sheep.

I sat and wondered how anyone could possibly perform such a task and not so much as bat an eye.

After thinking about it for a minute or two, I calculated the potential risk of sleeping in half a gallon of one’s own bile, and decided that I had better help him once again. This would involve removing him from the bed and cleaning him off. Mind you this is not something that I was looking upon too favorably. And this was not something that I could do by my lonesome; I needed assistance.

I went to the bed chamber of my other sleeping roommate, knocked on his door, and waited for his abrupt response to his awakening.

“We have to get our friend out of bed and clean him off, he vomited all over himself” I beckoned.

“Fuck him, let him sleep in it” my other roommate responded with such the concern.

“It’s not a good idea to let him sleep in it” I responded “it could be dangerous.” I was prepared to say anything now, just to acquire some assistance.

My friend agreed and together we removed the corpse-like body of the vomitous-one, who at one time resembled a human being. We plopped him on the floor, stripped him of his defiled clothing (which was soaked in recycled alcohol.) Naturally, I was the designated sponge bather. We then threw his sheets into the hallway for our caroused friend to clean when he awoke from his alcohol induced slumber.

The next morning I was awakened again to my roommate springing from his bed in a panic!

“What the hell happened? he shouted in terror.

“Why am I naked?” He exclaimed, now frantically questioning his heterosexual integrity.

“Where are my sheets, and why am I in bed the wrong way?” His face white as a ghost.

“How come you never told me you were gay?” I inquired “I never would have guessed.”

“What?!” He cried out with a face of alabaster.

After letting him surmise the possible detrimental circumstances his previous evening’s actions may have yielded and let his mind dwindle at the thought that his entire ideology of being a man may have actually been compromised, I finally came clean and told him what had actually happened.

After that, for some reason, he seemed to be much more adept at regulating his alcohol consumption.