Mind your P's and Q's
So this story here was a piece of homework I was given. We were supposed to write a story in a ABDCE format which meant, if I recall, Action Backstory Dialogue Climax Ending. Anyways this is all based on one of the many insane nights I had when I lived in an off campus frat house for a frat I was not a part of. Obviously I organized it into the form of a short story for an easy read but had to omit some details that were a little to outlandish (like waking up with Maddog 20/20 on our pillow cases) and stick to the core of the story. Anyway here it goes. Leave me any feed back you can, I'd love to hear what you think and how I can improve.
Fish Bulb Breaks
“WHO'S SEEN MY KEYS!?!” They're the only words that bellow in and out of every room of the house early in the morning. This morning happened to start at 3PM and no one was ready to face it. “Get up! Roll over I was sitting there last night!” Couch cushions fly as half awake profanities are slurred. Every room and every sitting space searched and ransacked, every sleeping person awoken to the grunts and yells of a frantic Pablo. And still no sign of those fucking keys.
Missing lighters resurfaced. Thought to be lost TV remotes. A large amount of assorted change. But still no keys, and now everyone in the house has woken up. The disgruntled murmurs of everyone who partook in last nights affairs unanimously vote to feel angry over the whole affair, still Pablo is screaming from a distant hallway “WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY KEYS?!?” Out of dead curiosity my roommate and I check his jacket, which we found discarded amongst the mess that used to be our couch. Bingo. Finally we can get back to sleep, as if that is even possible. Hearing the news Pablo rushes up the stairs to claim his prize, handle of whiskey in hand. Before we can even object he snatches the keys and drops the handle on our coffee table and books it back down the stairs. All of the other housemates and guests try to slow Pablo down and offer him a ride, but with nostrils flared and itchy he wasn't waiting on anyone. Slyly Pablo agreed to wait it out while my friend showered, only to dart out the door while the rest of us lulled ourselves into a false sleep. No one paid mind to the tires screeching in the background as we settled back into our nests we were so rudely disturbed from, everything was fine, Cal was driving him.
The wondrous silence that cushioned my roommate Justin and I's sleep was quickly disturbed by the buzzing ring of my roommates cellphone on the coffee table. We miss the call while dragging ourselves to the heap of cushions that would be our couch, I light up a boge, he dials the number back. It's Pablo, and if the clock is right only 30 minutes have passed since Cal said he was driving him. This obviously calls for speaker phone.
Panting. Heavy Panting and the static of a bad connection. We both yell into the phone our hellos, curious if they're heard. “Oh shit, fuck... Mother..fucker.” More profanities come through until finally Justin grabs his attention. “JUSTIN! Fuck! I was going to get that other eight ball. Oh shit, I wrecked my car. There were these parked cars. I'm running back to your house now, I'm only a few blocks away. Oh fuck.” The long, abrupt silence of the ended call matched our dropped jaws. With just a look into each others eyes we jump out of our seats and grab anything and everything incriminating or illegal and start to fill backpacks and unload the safe. Cal comes upstairs to the fray, gets as garbled a version of what happened as Pablo gave us and quickly races downstairs to tell the other housemates and treat the rest of the rooms with a fine tooth comb. God forbid the worse happens when Pablo makes his unwanted return.
The night started as innocently as any night could at our house. Justin and I were busy as bee's upstairs making phone calls trying to arrange a little fun for the night. We were the only ones in the house that shared a room, which worked well since we somehow shared the same mindset. Our other housemate, Shawn, was the oldest amongst us and several years out of college, but still trying to live that lifestyle. Alex, the outcast, hung onto our coattails as mommy and daddy paid for everything he wanted, vices included. Us four are the proprietor’s of this ongoing train wreck. Us four are the ever gracious hosts to just about any shit show you could possibly imagine.
Now Cal just happened to find himself a couch to live on during this winter break since he was both a good friend but also a fast talker. He talked himself into a job at the local Radio Shack and just as easily talked himself into a couch in our house. Also present for the oncoming nights affairs was Knoberto. He was the one guy that just kept showing up to the parties long enough that he became one of the guys. The whipping post, but still one of us. Rob was his real name, he insisted on being called Roberto, the bottle of Knob Creek he always brought to the house earned him his nickname. And the infamous one, Pablo. Attending graduate classes and almost a decade older then the rest of us he was a party animal when you put a little bit of liquor or cocaine into his system; and this one time when we were all rolling together we figured out he looks just like Mr. Sparkle from The Simpsons. However he get's furious when you call him fishbulb. Pablo was also one of the most genuine and charismatic people you'd meet, if he was sober. A modern day Jekyll and Hyde if you would.
Well the seven of us decided to congregate and celebrate the fact that it was Monday. Having had an awfully dry December we felt a little snow was in order. So there Justin and I were, making phone calls to the right people while coordinating our flunkies to gather the less illicit party supplies. Booze, both hard liquor and beer. Gum and mints to prevent us from chewing our tongue’s off. Afrin and saline nasal spray to keep our noses fresh and clean. And of course after Justin and I made the right call, the cocaine. All seven grams of it. These were the days before Charlie Sheen, and I'm sure if he had spent a month with us, you'd find him curled up in a corner crying, with Pablo standing in his face screaming “PUSSY!” and a bag of white powder inches from his nose. That's just the kind of nights we'd end up having when we all had nothing better to do, and when Pablo had an urge.
Twenty-four hours later all the supplies had gone. We had hung up our skiing equipment and called it a day. One hell of a day. As it turns out Pablo was adamant on finishing all of the liquor we had bought and even more adamant on picking up another eight ball to keep the night going. And here my friends, housemates, and myself stand trying to figure out what to do. Shawn is the first to break the silence.
“He can't come back here, is he fucking insane?”
Alex chimed in. “I think we're all in agreeance he can't come back here... but what the fuck are we going to do with him.”
“You fucking brought him here Knoberto, you get him out of here. I told that asshole I'd drive him after my shower. I fucking said...” Cal gets cut off by Justin
“Look, he's going to be here any minute. What the fuck are we going to do when he comes storming in through that door?”
“Well did you guys hide everything?” Alex doesn't mean harm in his question but its ignorance angers me
“Yeah, I just did a final sweep from attic to basement, right now all of the stuff is packed in their room and ready to be moved.” The dramatic point Cal gives snaps Justin out of his nervous pacing as if an idea was shot into him from the finger.
“What about it?” Shawn asks perplexed
“When he gets here, we'll take him to Chuck's house and let him sober up before he goes to the police station.” And here I was thinking to just shove him on Knoberto's car and call it a day.
“I can definitely take him when he gets here” Knoberto chimes in, technically my plan is in action as well.
“And you can stop bringing him over here while you're at it.” Alex says toughly, he wouldn't even dare think saying such had Pablo been there.
“Are you fucking kidding, you invited us.” The comedown and the situation is putting all of us on edge. And as if on queue we hear a frantic banging on the door as if the zombie apocalypse had just erupted.
Not with out peaking out the window first, I unlock the doors and nearly get trampled as he runs in. Nose bleeding, and for the first time not from doing to much blow, eyebrow busted, and just generally hunched over. Whatever drunk he had going on before was amplified by whatever head damage he had incurred and the words that fell out of his mouth were nothing more than a tangled ball of yarn. After several moments of this we sit him down and hand him some water, which he pours half in his mouth half over his face. As if some antidote was in the water he erupts “I fucking hit those cars man. I'm fucking done, I can't get another DUI. I can't.” He trails off and repeats himself several times stomping his feet to new and interesting curse words. Knoberto explains that we need to take him to Chuck's and sober him up before we bring him to the police. Police was the magic word.
Bam and Pow.
Knoberto hits the ground like a sack of rocks and everyone of us spring at Pablo and each take hold of whatever limb we can grab and slam him into the wall. He starts to struggle against the five of us as Knoberto picks himself up and we all thrust him to the ground and put our collective weight on his back with a mismatched arrangement of arms, feet, and knee's.
Once he calms down and stops struggling we explain. Very. Slowly. Exactly what's going to happen and what we're going to do. Whether he understood us or not he agreed to get in Cal's car and do as we said. Knoberto being sore about the situation in more ways then one decides to go home and the rest of us housemates put the packed bags of paraphernalia in the trunk of Shawn's car and park it on the side street a block away. Alex volunteered to do some reconnaissance and confirmed via text that Pablo made it a total of three blocks before hitting into not one but two parked cars at the same time; cops were all over the scene according to the same text. Justin and I cleaned our room anxiously and sat in silence waiting for the inevitable sirens. Hours passed and thankfully the law didn't come kick in our door. No one must have seen Pablo's masterful get-a-way. He sobered up and turned himself into the police station earning himself a ticket for reckless driving and fleeing the scene of an accident. The whole fiasco left Pablo branded with the ever so feared Persona Non Grata tag after a silent agreement with us housemates shortly after his departure.
We all returned to normality and the housemates dispersed the paraphernalia back throughout the house, while Justin and I called up to see if our friend still had that eight ball...