SAW THIS ON ANOTHER FORUM
Some of the dialogue may have been different, it has been a few years, but this was day I realized that I don't live right.
A number of years back a friend (we will call him Steve) and I went to a rave. It was great time. We met a girl there, we will call her Mary. She was a former meth addict, and had all the usual ex-tweaker behaviors. Poor impulse control, talked a mile a minute, collected shiny trash for use in her "art projects". She was hilarious. She was also homeless. After the party we invited her back to our town to spend a few days and escape the stress of city life.
She wound up staying with Steve for about a week. She decorated his house with shiny trash and duct tape. They had some sex, and she returned to the city one Sunday afternoon.
Six weeks later Steve gets a call from a payphone. Its mary. She is pregnant, probably with Steve's child. She tells him that its OK, her and her current boyfriend are going to take care of it, but she just wanted him to know.
Before he can respond, she hangs up and he has no way of getting in touch with her.
Two weeks pass. Steve is starting to cope. He realizes the story may have been bullshit, resolves himself to put it to the back of his mind for now. The two of us get invited to a house party in the city. On our way down, we call to get directions, and the host mentions:
"Oh, hey, your friend Mary is here."
"What?!"
"Yeah, she needed a place to stay for a few days and she is dating a friend of ours (we will call him Josh). She mentioned she knew you."
"Um. Okay."
Steve resolves to go to this party anyway to find out just what is going on.
The party is, as you might imagine, stressful for both of us. She is, in fact, pregnant, though who the dad is is anyone's guess. Steve is somewhat upset. I am upset for him. We proceed to get really drunk to take the edge off the fucked up situation.
We had no idea how bad things were about to get.
Too drunk to drive home, we both decide to sleep it off at the party. At 4am I wake, and stumble through the living room looking for a bathroom.
Mary is awake too. So is josh. They are fingerpainting on the wall.
"What are you doing? You don't live here. Where the fuck did you get paint?!"
She laughs.
"Oh, I miscarried." Both Josh and Mary start cracking up.
In my intoxicated state I still didn't realize what was going on. A quick inventory of the room told me everything. Bloody blankets. Check. Bloody underwear. Check. Bloody hand, bloody wall. Check.
It was too surreal to muster a shout, or any sort of emotional response really. I just shut down and started figuring out what to do. People were starting to wake up from my angry exclamation before.
"You need to clean this shit up before Steve wakes up." Is all I could say. It was too late though. Steve had emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his eyes.
"We leaving dude?" He asked.
"Steve, please, trust me as a friend. You -need- to go back to bed. I will wake you up when we leave." He looked around the room, saw a mess, looked bewildered, but thank god he turned around and went back to bed.
I found some windex and paper towels and a trash bag under the sink. By this point the emotional gravity of what was going on sunk in with Mary and Josh and they stayed quiet, and helped get rid of the evidence. The wall, unfortunately, was textured, and it was impossible to get all the gore our of the little cracks, but the room no longer looked like a horror scene.
Once the trash was out, I woke up steve, told him to get his shit together. We were still a little too tipsy for road driving, so hit a waffle house on our way out of town to sober up.
During breakfast, Mary came up.
"I'm really worried man. I'm not ready to have a kid."
And like an idiot I said "Don't worry, man. Mary isn't pregnant anymore."
"What?" And then he put two and two together.
Steve didn't talk for a week.
And that, ladies and gentleman, was the most fucked up night of my life.
Some of the dialogue may have been different, it has been a few years, but this was day I realized that I don't live right.
A number of years back a friend (we will call him Steve) and I went to a rave. It was great time. We met a girl there, we will call her Mary. She was a former meth addict, and had all the usual ex-tweaker behaviors. Poor impulse control, talked a mile a minute, collected shiny trash for use in her "art projects". She was hilarious. She was also homeless. After the party we invited her back to our town to spend a few days and escape the stress of city life.
She wound up staying with Steve for about a week. She decorated his house with shiny trash and duct tape. They had some sex, and she returned to the city one Sunday afternoon.
Six weeks later Steve gets a call from a payphone. Its mary. She is pregnant, probably with Steve's child. She tells him that its OK, her and her current boyfriend are going to take care of it, but she just wanted him to know.
Before he can respond, she hangs up and he has no way of getting in touch with her.
Two weeks pass. Steve is starting to cope. He realizes the story may have been bullshit, resolves himself to put it to the back of his mind for now. The two of us get invited to a house party in the city. On our way down, we call to get directions, and the host mentions:
"Oh, hey, your friend Mary is here."
"What?!"
"Yeah, she needed a place to stay for a few days and she is dating a friend of ours (we will call him Josh). She mentioned she knew you."
"Um. Okay."
Steve resolves to go to this party anyway to find out just what is going on.
The party is, as you might imagine, stressful for both of us. She is, in fact, pregnant, though who the dad is is anyone's guess. Steve is somewhat upset. I am upset for him. We proceed to get really drunk to take the edge off the fucked up situation.
We had no idea how bad things were about to get.
Too drunk to drive home, we both decide to sleep it off at the party. At 4am I wake, and stumble through the living room looking for a bathroom.
Mary is awake too. So is josh. They are fingerpainting on the wall.
"What are you doing? You don't live here. Where the fuck did you get paint?!"
She laughs.
"Oh, I miscarried." Both Josh and Mary start cracking up.
In my intoxicated state I still didn't realize what was going on. A quick inventory of the room told me everything. Bloody blankets. Check. Bloody underwear. Check. Bloody hand, bloody wall. Check.
It was too surreal to muster a shout, or any sort of emotional response really. I just shut down and started figuring out what to do. People were starting to wake up from my angry exclamation before.
"You need to clean this shit up before Steve wakes up." Is all I could say. It was too late though. Steve had emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his eyes.
"We leaving dude?" He asked.
"Steve, please, trust me as a friend. You -need- to go back to bed. I will wake you up when we leave." He looked around the room, saw a mess, looked bewildered, but thank god he turned around and went back to bed.
I found some windex and paper towels and a trash bag under the sink. By this point the emotional gravity of what was going on sunk in with Mary and Josh and they stayed quiet, and helped get rid of the evidence. The wall, unfortunately, was textured, and it was impossible to get all the gore our of the little cracks, but the room no longer looked like a horror scene.
Once the trash was out, I woke up steve, told him to get his shit together. We were still a little too tipsy for road driving, so hit a waffle house on our way out of town to sober up.
During breakfast, Mary came up.
"I'm really worried man. I'm not ready to have a kid."
And like an idiot I said "Don't worry, man. Mary isn't pregnant anymore."
"What?" And then he put two and two together.
Steve didn't talk for a week.
And that, ladies and gentleman, was the most fucked up night of my life.
