We went out the week for Gohan's birthday. I was working late so I felt that once I arrived I needed to catch up, as you do. Let's just say I caught up rather quickly. I caught up so well in fact that I may have overtaken a few people. It is this fact that I blame (the creation of that kissing game, me accidentally trying to out someone and) my decision to go to the Carling Academy when I had very little money to begin with. Foreshame drunken Warthog.
Unfortunately we seemed to lose Gohan in the pub (although the how's and wherefores still allude me), but we soldiered on nontheless.
As soon as we got there, I felt the need. The need that only a urinal and an uncomfortably sticky floor could quench. That's right I just had to pee. Now I wouldn't normally tell you this, but as with everything here, there's a story. I stood there, ready and waiting, the Monk next to me....hang on hang on. It's not like that. Get your mind back out of the gutter and on the job at hand. I know we broke the rules by standing next to each other in a public lavatory, but it was that or piss in someones pockets. Now, when using urinals, and I'm sure many of you know this, there's a certain amount of concentration required. You've got to block out your surroundings and concentrate on your goal. This is not easy once the Monk begins to shout "WOOOOOOOOOOOO" like a freshly boiled old school tea kettle. I wasn't the only one disturbed. The guy next to me gave him a funny look and had to leave. It was at this point when we broke the second rule and spoke to each other. I said something like "What the hell?", to which he replied, with calm, freshly relieved wit:
"Can't a man whoop for joy when having a wee? If he can't then when can he?"
You can't really argue with logic like that.
After a night of watching the Monk get increasingly freaked out by people dancing in his personal space we left, as many people do. We had what seemed like a considerable wait outside, and considering that a considerable wait is quantified by what you consider it to be, I feel that I'm free to class it as a considerable wait. During this time a random guy (a new posh student type) came up to me. In a drunken slur he decreed: "That's a fantastic T-shirt you've got there man" (meaning the Thundercats one mentioned in previous posts, the one I'd kill you for). He then tried to trade me it for a half empty can of some ribena/vimto rip off that someone gave him for free. I may have been drunk, but I wasn't stupid. No dice. Then he began some sort of alcohol fuelled bidding war. By the time he offered the can, a lighter and a folded up club flyer I think he got the hint that I was going to keep the shirt on my back that night. Sucks to be him.
When everyone got there, they were in a somewhat rowdy mood. Considering my foul mood the last time we went out, I felt obligued to join in, and so I did. This was when the wrestling really started.
That's right, wrestling. Drunken, I'm going to get arrested for smashing my friend off this concrete slab if the busy's catch me out door wrestling. Let me just asure you at this juncture that we had just waited until the big police van left and the bouncers couldn't see us in amongst the crowd. After laughing at some, lets be truthful, pathetic stone cold stunner attempts, this is when I came into my own. A walls of Jericho followed by a crippler cross face and I was well warmed up. Especially since the crowd outside began to taunt and cheer. I even vaugely remeber one guy comentating and shouting "OH HE'S NOW GONE STRAIGHT FOR THE CRIPPLER CROSS FACE!!!!", which made me smile. I don't think Spicy was smiling....but then I was trapping his arm and trying to pull his head off his shoulders at the time.
It was at this point my dreams came true. I had read in my stars that very same day that my dreams could come true that day, so I wasn't one to be disappointed. I called for a 3D, and the crowd dispersed slightly. Spicy ran, got picked up by the legs, I lept into the air and in one fluid 3 man machine motion we all hit the ground. I wish I could have seen it. The stuff that dreams are made of, well mine anyway.
We then decided that we better pick ourselves up and head to the taxi rank....we also decided to continue said wrestling on the way. Highlights include me picking up Spicy, crushing his knees to his forehead and dropping his overextended spine onto my knee. For this and other reasons he was limping for a day or so. Those other reasons were probably when I beat his ass in a phone box and when I tried to use the metal railings as the ropes. Note to self, these do not have a lot of give and he will not spring back as quickly as anticipated. I also got a chokeslam in there, and possibly the gayest figure four leg lock of all time. There's nothing more disturbing than wrapping your legs round someone elses in an effort to hurt them, only to have you both look like your trying to crap a phone book. I felt it necessary to smash a shoe box over Spicy's head repeatedly to make the schene slightly more manly. I'm not sure it really worked. But when I got up I did drag him across the concrete, which apparently hurts like hell for a few days.
What else? Spicy kept picking stuff out of bins and hitting us with them. Not the most hygienic of weapons. Oh, I got to do a Hulk Hogan leg drop. That was kinda cool. Golddigga's repeated elbow drops were funny as hell too.
All in all it was a good night.
Remember kids, don't try this at home....we weren't at home so how's that for a loophole!