Wednesday, November 18, 2009

The 18th Hole

It was a Thursday in November, just after noon. A DJ, his rubenesque slave, and a Jiu-jitsu student showed up to my apartment with a bag full of ecstasy, cheap beer, and an even cheaper bottle of vodka. The situation called for pants so, reluctantly, I ventured into my closet. I returned wearing some ripped faded jeans that should have been retired months ago. It’s best if I don’t tell you about all the stains on them, or where they came from. However, I drew attention away from the tattered, soiled denim with the badminton racquet and face paint that I was sporting. “Why,” you ask. Well, I’m about to tell you and the ending is more bizarre than anything you’re expecting right now. Trust me… be continued(tomorrow)...but here's a shall end with a proposal.