“I’m hungry. I’m gonna make me some flapjacks.”
She didn’t think it was funny, and we had to leave our second restaurant of the night.
The girls drove their own car, and in the parking lot we tried to figure out what to do. OtherGirl came up with a good idea:
OtherGirl “You know… I have a hot tub at my place. What would you two say if I asked you back there?”
SlingBlade “Heeellllloooo staph infection.”
Tucker “He has health insurance. We’ll follow you.”
In the car, SlingBlade looked about as happy as a Mormon getting a lap dance.
Tucker “‘Hello staph infection?’ What the fuck is wrong with you?”
SlingBlade “Why do so many women disgust me?”
Tucker “Because you are fucked up and can’t get over your ex. Are you gonna hook up or what? That girl seemed into you.”
SlingBlade “Yeah, I guess. She seems nice. I don’t know.”
We go back to their place and there are already a bunch of people at the house; apparently one of the other roommates was having a party that night. OtherGirl mixes us a few drinks, and we sit around and talk awhile before ElephantLegs and I get into the hot tub and start making out. A few minutes later, I hear him screaming from inside:
SlingBlade “Oh you don’t want to hook up with me? What, my fetid, hoppy beer breath bothering you? Oh yeah, Daddy drinks too much!”
SlingBlade comes out to the deck:
SlingBlade “I am leaving.”
Tucker “Why? What happened?”
SlingBlade “I’m going home to get my gun so I can kill everyone here.”
He storms off before I can put my shorts on (ElephantLegs had them off in the hot tub) and catch him. I find OtherGirl:
Tucker “What the fuck happened? Why did he leave?”
OtherGirl “I don’t know—your friend is weird.”
Tucker “There has to be a reason. He wouldn’t just storm out.”
OtherGirl “Well, I think he got mad when he tried to kiss me.”
Tucker “What happened?”
OtherGirl “I backed away.”
Tucker “WHAT? Why would you invite him back here if you didn’t like him?”
OtherGirl “I don’t know. I thought I did, I just didn’t feel like it.”
I could not believe that this bitch flirted with him all night—and she was FLIRTING—and then dissed him AT HER PLACE, AFTER SHE INVITED HIM BACK THERE. It’s not like she had to fuck him, but to deny even a kiss after all that is really bad. Especially for him; it’s not like this guy has lots of self-esteem with women to begin with.
He wouldn’t pick up his cell, so I just go back to the hot tub and ElephantLegs, who after 20 beers looked surprisingly good in a bathing suit. We get pretty hot and move inside to finish off, when she drops a bomb on me:
ElephantLegs “I’m not sure if we can hook up. Let me ask my friend.” Tucker “What do you mean?”
ElephantLegs “Well—I don’t live here. I am visiting from Ohio. All those bedrooms belong to her roommates. I’ll see if she’ll let us use her room.”
No fucking way. NO FUCKING WAY.
Of course OtherGirl says no. OK, fine, I can understand not wanting other people to fuck in your bed. So I go through the other options. ElephantLegs wouldn’t hook up on the patio, “Someone might see us,” or on the sofa bed we had to sleep on, “There are other people passed out in the living room. What if they wake up?”
In a last ditch attempt to save the night, I make what I think is a very reasonable suggestion: ElephantLegs takes OtherGirl’s car, and the two of us go to SlingBlade’s place and hook up. He has an extra bed.
Do you want to guess what Princess CockBlock told her friend? “No.”
I was furious. OtherGirl had taken what could have been a great night, and totally ruined it, for no fucking reason other than her whim. That’s OK bitch: I got summin’ for you.
The next morning I woke up early, went into the bathroom and locked the door. I took off the lid of the toilet tank and dropped a gargantuan shit, right in the tank. I have hit many home runs in my life, but this was my first upper-decker.
Then I took a Sharpie marker I found in her house and wrote on the underside of the lid:
“This is for [SlingBlade]. Whore.”
I put the top back on the tank and used about half a roll of toilet paper to wipe my ass, putting all of it in the bowl. As I expected, the toilet clogged when I flushed it, spilling shit water all over her bathroom floor.
I immediately get a taxi back to SlingBlade’s, stopping to say goodbye to ElephantLegs on my way out. I am laughing hysterically.
ElephantLegs “What’s so funny?”
Tucker “Tell your friend I’m NOT sorry. She’ll understand.”
I take the taxi back to SlingBlade’s, laughing the whole way, and walk into his place at like 7am, still giddy. I find him sitting in his chair in front of the TV, soaking wet, fists clenched up in rage and a look of exasperated anger on his face the likes of which I’ve never seen.
Tucker “Dude—what’s wrong?”
He points out the window to his car. The front and rear windshields are completely out, and the hood and roof have massive dents in them.
Tucker “OH MY GOD! What happened to your car?”
SlingBlade “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Tucker “Why are you all wet?”
SlingBlade “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Tucker “Have you been sitting here all night?”
SlingBlade “I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT. God obviously hates me. HATES ME. Nothing ever goes right. ALL I WANT IS PEACE AND QUIET AND A SMALL LIFE WITH MY NINTENDO AND COMIC BOOKS. IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK???”
After a few hours he calmed down, and I found out what happened:
It was raining heavily on the interstate as he drove home. He was cruising along in the right lane, still mired in self-loathing over his rejection, not noticing that he was riding in the blind spot of a truck. He noticed too late that the truck was swerving from the left lane across his lane in order to make it onto an off-ramp. SlingBlade had to swerve violently to avoid the truck careening across his lane, and since he was going fast and it was slick, he ended up driving right into a road sign at about 60 miles an hour.
It impacted on his bumper, smashed into the hood of his car leaving a huge dent, then somersaulted and crashed into the roof—popping both the front and rear windshields out—before flying off behind him. The truck kept driving, never having seen what it did. In his own words:
SlingBlade “After the sign destroyed my car, I slammed on the brakes and stopped. Once my heart rate dropped