Tuesday, September 4, 2007

One Strange Day; or, You'll Never Believe This

So, today started out like pretty much any other week day. My alarm woke me up earlier than I wanted, and try as I might to fight it, I did eventually drag my ass out of bed. After the morning routine (the S-in' - Shit, Shower, Shave. Minus the shave part, it's against my religion), I put on a relatively clean work uniform and head downstairs to go to work. Reaching the bottom of the stairs I see someone sleeping on the couch. It appears to be the size and shape of The Horvath, so I think nothing of it and head off to the jobbie-job.

4 hours pass, and I stop by the house for a little lunch. Pulling in the driveway I notice both The Horvath and Perkette chariots are missing, OK, they left for work. But when I walk into the house, there on the couch is the same dude from that morning. So, it's not The Horvath. Alright, must be a friend of his, or maybe Patrick's. Whatever, I gotta pee. When I get back downstairs, he's gone. Strange, but I sort of put it out of my head, and get back to work for the day.

I get home from work, and Perkette comes home. I start to tell him my story of the morning, and see if he has any idea who our "Couch Bum" was. I'm treated to his telling of seeing this guy on the couch as well, thinking at first it was The Horvath's friend, but he claims to not know the guy. Naturally we think must be a friend of Patrick. Well, once Patrick makes it back, we ask him. He has no idea who it is. Sometime around 3am, Patrick woke up for some water. On his way out to the porch for a smokie treat, said "Couch Bum" snores really loud, scaring the holy-lovin'-shit out of Patrick. He thinks it's The Horvath (it's dark after all) and shakes him, to which he hears "Search Query". He assumes it's still The Horvath, has his smoke, and goes back to bed, albeit a little weirded out.

At this point, None of us have any idea who the guy that slept on our couch the previous night is. Nothing was missing, and the living room had been vacuumed (to which Patrick owned up). Then we headed out to see "Superbad". Funny movie. Even funnier was the Rhodes Scholar sitting 3 rows back repeating lines 30 seconds after they were said in the movie, or shouting "What?" at every turn.

On our way home from the movie, Patrick gets a call from the bartender at his bar. Some dude is at the bar, telling the story of waking up this morning at a strange house, on the couch. And he remembers the address (which was our address). When it finally dawned on the bartender who's house it was, he calls Patrick. Set course, Bootleggers!

We get there, and there he is. The guy from our couch. Drunk as shit. Fresh from the pokey for a DUI and subsequent probation violations, he got drunk as a skunk last night, and walked in to our house thinking it was his. He apparently lives a block from our house.

After hearing about 35 times that he was lucky to not be in jail, that he can't believe it was our house, and that none of us know him at all, he wanders behind the bar (mind you, it was dead in there, and the bartender was on the phone telling the story to a friend of "Couch Bum", and fellow bartender), grabs a bottle of Petron tequilla, and proceeds to drink down about $20 worth like water.

OK, so, a long way to go for this story I know. But if you made it this far, I applaud you. It really is a funnier story than it sounds reading it here. But hey, I tried dammit!

1 comment:

Jim said...

Jesus, did you guys miss out on a golden opportunity for a ritualistic killing. Imagine it - the lot of you standing shirtless in the backyard, everyone wearing only goatskin leggings (except for Pat, who for some reason is wearing a gingham dress). Everyone covered in the blood of the unbeliever, also known as the snoring couch guy.
Dump the remains in the lake.