Making The Bail - Pt. 2

Side note: While Jeff was being given the sobriety test, this kid, a freshman, stepped outside the party. I will digress from my own story to talk about this kid. This kid is a winner. Winner. He's in his first semester at Elon and had already received two citations prior to the evening. Tonight would make his third.

I will preface his tail by saying that my sympathy for people usually runs as deep as being socially polite can. Unless the situation is drastic or I know you, I'm not going to do more then I need to escape the situation unscathed. Say you were on fire - I would tell a fire man. Say you were in need of money - I would point you to an ATM. More importantly, there are some situation where you should never expect help. These are the times when you have to man up. This is reality.

Flashback: Jeff is being given his sobriety test. My ass is still dropped on the couch. Outside, where Buff's party is happening, the back door opens up. A freshman steps outside onto the porch and kindly waves to Jeff and the police, despite the awkwardness of the situation. He shuts the door behind him and steps off the porch. I'm sure he chuckled to himself or swore under his breath, because that's always something I have done before I start to urinate in public.

No, really. The kid started to piss in public. One hand on his dick, the other scribbling MENSA meeting notes on the brick wall with a piece of chalk. The female officer looked to Jeff, then to her partner. 'Seriously, is this happening?' I don't know how they handled it as well as they did.

"Sir! What do you think you're doing?" she yelled to the freshman. Pulling away from photon equations, the kid looks over. This is where he noticed something - like the cops, Jeff about to be handcuffed, or maybe the flashing fucking lights. There was a whole slew of subtle clues only Sherlock Holmes would have picked up on. But the kid, obviously drunk and not in the puzzle solving mood, did pick up one of the factors. And so he realized what he was doing. And so he began to cry.

Allow me to check my watch: "1:24 am". Yes, I'll say for the record he began to cry around 1:24 in the morning. For forty minutes they had him outside in the cold, and he cried the whole time. Jeff, six feet to the right, is in handcuffs in a cop car. He got stopped by police. He failed a sobriety check. He blew a point nine. But Jeff does not cry. Why? Because he is a man. Don't confuse being a man with some overblown machismo, testosterone packed fuel ride. He didn't break the cuffs off his wrists and throw the car over his head like the Incredible Hulk. He didn't destroy half a city block with his junk. No. He sat there and took it because that's all you can do.

Crybaby McCryAndWetMyPants couldn't. He somehow got into the apartment I was in. They brought him in and sat him down on the couch. Not next to me, partially on me. Now when this happened, I had no idea why he was crying. For a moment, I felt sorry. But I noticed his weeping was that of an old lady who lost her porcelain doll collection.

That self-pitying kind, not the 'I've been hurt because a boulder fell on my arm' kind. Not the 'I just lost my whole family in a SeaWorld freak accident' kind either. It was like a girl who drinks too much and thinks everyone hates her. People know that kind of crying. You can pick it out when its that pathetic. Call me wrong, but the people around me picked up on it too. Because we began to laugh at him. Uncontrollably.

So I moved across the room to sit next to Aric, and we had to hold our hands over our mouths we were laughing so hard. Which really didn't matter because the kid was so black out drunk and bawling so loud he wouldn't have heard us. I left it got so bad.

Note Time: 2:30. Dude's been leaking for an hour. A friend of his comes by and tries to help. He starts to read the citation outloud while we're in the kitchen being mean. Yeah, I know. Whatever. His friend (who is actually pictured in that facebook picture as well) snaps at us to shutup. Now I am all for volume control. I hate loud music and I hate it when these young kids think they can turn it up for the whoopity doo of it all. But don't try to exercise power where you have none. We totally disregarded the comment to be quiet.

But we shouldn't have. Why? Because we missed out on this gem. The friend comes in to talk to crybaby, but crybaby can't respond because he's dropping buckets. So the friend reads his citation, where Jeff's charges have been underlined. The kid was cited for peeing in public, but the citation stated he has been drunk while operating a moving vehicle. When Sir CryPants hears that, he loses it. Loses mental control, muscle control, and sphincter control. And he has to be escorted from the building. (Time? Somewhere before 3)

One of the hens has some very nice words to say on the way out about how it wasn't their fucking house and good riddance. Note: Not hen's house either.

Anywho, sorry I took so much up with this one but the guy was a major vag.

Reminders for class: Part 3 is us trying to leave the goddamned house before Jeff gets banged in prison. Part 4 will be when we go to bail him out. Look for it soon. I'm done with classes.