I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather and, as such, spent the entire weekend in bed. While the sleep was awesome, it didn’t exactly lend itself to creative stories of my sordid adventures. (Unless we’re counting dreams, in which case I have a shit ton to talk about. Nyquil is the bomb y’all.) So today, I will be regaling you with a little gem from one of my partners in crime. We shall call her Thumbelina, because she is tiny and also because her other nickname (The Girl Who Throws Up) doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.
It was a dark and chilly Saturday night when pint size Thumbelina decided to venture into the great unknown in search of a place to get her drink on. Living in Smalltown, USA, she quickly realized that her venue options were quite limited but remained undeterred. Strapping on her big girl heels, she made her way to the land of booze and promptly downed several vodka and Red Bulls. “Water is for little bitches,” she called to all within earshot.
Feeling warm and fuzzy, Thumbelina surveyed her surroundings and realized for the first time that this tiny bar had a tiny stage, on which a mediocre DJ was playing only the best in Top 40 mash-ups. Needing no further motivation, she grabbed the nearest thing with a penis and dragged it to the dance floor. As she began swaying to the intoxicating beat of that one Flo Rida song from 2003, little Thumbelina casually spared a glance at her unwitting dance partner. She giggled as recognition swarmed her brain. Why, it’s little Scottie! The youngest brother of her one time high school love interest!
Drunk and thoroughly entertained by this new information, Thumbelina continued her seduction of the naïve young boy. Powerless to resist her charms, it was only minutes before poor Scottie was falling over himself in an effort to entice the lovely Thumbelina to a rousing game of tonsil hockey. A sucker for a pretty face, Thumbelina obliged the poor boy with a kiss before ensnaring him once again in her dance of passion.
As the clock struck 2 am, Thumbelina thanked little Scottie for his company and promptly sent him scampering home to his twin bed and Superman sheets. Lost in her thoughts, she barely registered a bystander walking in her direction. That is, until this bystander casually informed her that her knight for the night was, in fact, named Jon.
Moral of the story, brothers look alike.
Image courtesy of: Natalie Dee