Friday, July 10, 2009

Can You Run In Those Shoes?


This story comes from a dear friend of mine located in New York, New York. She would like to be known Spaghetti Cat. Okay, I want her to be known as Spaghetti Cat. The story comes from her college years. Awat we go! Warning: some might find this content objectionable. Remember, we don't condone it..

Senior year in college, I went to a pre-game at my friends' apartment. I noticed there were several very young women present and the whole thing felt very Roman Polanski. I was told that my male friends had met them outside one of the freshmen dorms and invited them to a party. I liked the girls and suggested that they leave before things turned ugly. No one headed the warning.

While being sexually harassed by one of my drunken friends, I zoomed in on a freshman girl who was an exact 300 pound doppelganger for Hatchet Face from the movie “Cry Baby” speaking to my particularly classy friend. I rushed over, but was stopped by my walking STD friend who suggested we take a shot. Since I bordered on alcoholism, I figured why not. Next, I had a touching conversation with my friend, where he referred to me strictly as "Sweet Tits" This, of course, was a clever means of distracting the only feminist in the apartment so my other friend could bring Hatchet Face into the bathroom and have sex with her.

As the two exited the bathroom, Hatchet Face skipped towards me, filling her shot glass with Southern Comfort, turning to me to say "I was so worried that when I left for college I would never meet anyone. But it is only my first week here and I have already met you guys, who remind me exactly of my friends from home!” I swigged my drink, trying to ignore the awkward delusion that I just encountered.

Thirty minutes later, the boys were ready to close up shop and head to the bars where the magic happened. Fake i.d. from 6th Avenue City baby! As the doors were being locked, my friend approached, looked me straight in the face and asked “ Do you think you could run in those shoes?” I looked down at my 3 inch heels and answered “Umm, from the Heat yes, but I would care to avoid it. Why?” My friend pointed in the direction of Hatchet Face and responded “ Because we are going to have to run from that bitch right there!”, grabbing me, and literally dragged me down the street, full sprint. I was told not to look back, like a modern day Sodom and Gomora.

S.C, who loves you baby?!Your friends are true gentlemen and scholars! I imagine writing that story down will save you some money on the inevitable therapy that followed. Thanks for the submission! Please send all submissions to weekenddouche@gmail.com

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