whiskeyagogo

This is for Gayballs who said "i want awesome episodes that you can look back and laugh on now but made you want to murder back then. "

Ok - here's one - just a typical Wednesday night with him - this is the kind of shit I dealt with on a regular basis, stuff that could only happen to HIM and somehow seemed to happen all the time:

We used to live out in the woods in Florida - don't ask, long story. One night he went out drinking really late. While trying to drive home drunk, he decided it would be best to get off the highway and take a dirt road, back-woods, pitch black (no lights in the woods!) shortcut. He thought this would be safer. Great choice. So he's speeding down this muddy-ass road, totally misses a turn and drives our car off the road and into what is basically just swamp, hitting a tree in the process. As he is getting out he loses his shoes in the muck surrounding the car, so he's in socks only now. He also manages to lose his cell phone to the muck - no, I have no idea how.. He knows there is no way to extract the car, so he starts to walk home. I'd guess he was 1-2 miles away. At some point during his walk he starts to be tracked by a bunch of coyotes. Seriously - they were all over where we lived. So, he starts to run. And he ends up running and running - in his socks - and he eventually he runs right past the turn for our house and right into the bay - so now he's wet too. The coyotes had given up and he staggered home, passing out as soon as he gets through the front door..
Now, I'm just thinking that it's another normal drunken evening and although I hear him, I don't even get out of bed. Eventually I realize that something is wrong because he ain't coming in to bed. So, I find him at the door, soaking wet, covered in mud and blood, cuts, scrapes everywhere, no shoes, no car outside - I'm like WTF - I seriously thought he had been gang raped and dumped or something. And he is out cold. I pull off the nasty clothes and somehow drag his ass to bed.. I finally go back to sleep and I suddenly I am woken up by the sound of loud knocking. Very loud and very urgent and very just a lot of fucking knocking. I know this is not good - it is like 6:30 in the morning now and no one we know would be at our door. So, I sneak out of the bedroom and try to peak out a window to see who it is. Sheriffs. Dandy. I have no idea what happened but I am pretty sure he'd still blow drunk, he looks like dogshit, and I really don't feel like bailing him out of jail. So, I gots to hide right now! I see them start to walk around the house and I know they're going to see me if I don't haul ass back to the bedroom. The bedroom had blackout curtains so I knew those fuckers couldn't see in there. He starts to wake up from all the knocking rambling "what happened, what happened?". I have to jump on him and tell him to shut up, the cops are right outside. After what seems like a reeeaaaaaaalllly long time of hiding in the bedroom, they leave.
Eventually, much later that day, we go out to where the car is (he finally remembers what happened), to survey the damage. Unfortunately the same sheriffs from the morning visit are also back at the scene. Having the car put on a tow truck to be impounded just as we arrive. They look very suspicious that we didn't answer the door. I think I may have actually said that I didn't hear them, which is totally absurd. So, I sort of help him make up a little story - they give him a bunch of shit , leaving the scene, blah blah blah. After a while they know they got nothing since so much time has passed and there ain't no witnesses out in the woods. So, they let us go, we got it towed to the body shop instead of the impound, had it fixed and then he went on to do a lot of other stupid shit. The end.