2003-04-24 - 1:35 p.m. Birth 5 Stuff it in Tight July 10, 1998 It was almost time. Cakes and I are not drunk. We had bought a bottle of Frangelico from the Canadian Liquor mart in the mall underneath the hotel we were in. We bought it because our boss had said that it was really good stuff. We drank some of it. The chocolate flavoring didn�t help disguise the alcohol and instead left your mouth feeling like you just pigged out on a bag of Andes Mints. I suggest that since I am not taking the Molsen Export and the Labatte Blue well, we should go down to the 25 hour (for real) Quik-Mart and grab some American Brews. He agrees. My other friends, Moon, Hink, Trout, Sam, Hillson, and Andy decided not to tag along. We got a tub full of ice and beer and we haven�t made a dent. Of course, showering was out of the question, because where would we put the beer? I enter this wonderful store and head for the six packs. I grabbed Bud. I figured, its just about American as You can get. Then my eyes locked with the biggest can of beer I have ever seen. It�s a 950 ML (metric Canadians) can of beer. Bud. Its some amount of Canadian money. To me; it play money. It�s all different colors and there is some queen on it. I am more familiar with Uncle Moneybags than this QE2. As the cashier takes my denominations of bills and hands me back a bucket of coins, I scoff and head back to get drunk in the 30 minutes I have left before we go out. In college, this year; my freshman year, since I was a non-drinker in high school, my older friends showed me how to shotgun. It was my turn to show John. I think I shotguned the six pack in about 20 minutes. Though I believe I only had four out of the six. Memories blend. Then, I thought to myself, you know what a good idea would be. To shotgun that monster can. What I should have thought was? You know what a bad idea would be. To shotgun the monster can. The decision however was made after shotgunning lots of beers though, so I have an excuse. My mates and I got all dolled up for our night on the town. Hillson even broke out the iron. We remember the last time we went to this fine city, which was my first time drinking, and we wore shorts and T-shirts to clubs. Nice clubs. We looked awful, but were too drunk to care. This time we were going to do it right. Except, being freshman, we all owned the Sam thing. We all wore A blue oxford shirt and kakis. We all thought everyone else looked good. It was a compliment orgy. We looked like a boy band. A bad boy band, with our slicked back hair and eight matching outfits. It was time. Now that I was dressed it was time to shotgun a 2 liter coke bottle of Canadian Bud 6.0% by volume. I cut the hole in the can with a switchblade I had, and stared at the beast. Using both hands, I gently picked up this newborn baby of beer and cusped it to my lips. I slowly reached for the tab and gently tugged it, priming it for the open. Then I finally let it burst, and the beer gushed into the back of my throat being forced down my esophagus into my stomach. I imagine this is the closest I will come to a gay money shot scene. I got about 900 of the 950 down. I choked the rest of it all over me. Waking up the next morning was a disaster. Jess, unexpectedly was there, as well as Sam and Becky. I started to pack and clean. As I tossed the empty cans, and half drank bottles away, I found the 950 in the bathroom, lonely. I decided that it was too strange a part of my life not to become a living memory, so I began to clean it out. I had to do it in the tub, though because the sink was too small. Then I went over to my grey bag with yellow trim. I stuffed it way down in the bottom under and around my dirty clothes. I didn�t want the border patrol to find an empty. I think this will be good. They never stop anyone anyway. | |||||||||||
