So, I live at home. I’m twenty-three and the economy sucks. A + B = C. Right? I work part-time at this little place by my house and take the occasional odd job, pretty much anything I can get. I do have a college degree, but that’s not really doing it for me these days. Plus, I’m not good at that whole 9-5 keyword type of thing. Or effort, really. Looking back on it now, I should have been an engineer like my father. I’m good at making things and constructing stuff in my mind. But alas, it is not so, and I have a piece of paper in a nice frame that reads “Humanities.” What is “Humanities”? Fuck if I could tell you. Four years of studying and all I can do is shrug. They really shouldn’t allow anyone who doesn’t plan on becoming a professor into a liberal arts school. It’s just not fair. Ut's the Biggest. Con. Ever.
But I digress, let us move on to the more exciting realms of my life. I’m recently back on the market with new packaging and a bow this time. That’s a fun story for a nevertime.* I will say that Ellie was the prettiest, best, most wonderful girl I ever dated. Sadly, every coin has two sides, and Ellie’s was also a two bit-gotta-fuck-the-rainbow-can’t-keep-her-dick-in-her-pants-tramp whore. I think I could have maybe loved her had I not come in with a dozen red roses and a bottle of her favorite wine to find a fucked up version of Four Square where half of a Village People cover band is naked and trying to hold onto my girlfriend with their dicks.
It brought back all kinds of childhood memories, mostly of when I found my 4th grade girlfriend Natalie Rogachesky kissing my best friend Ryan Roberts under the Recess Tree. I promptly pulled her hair and kicked him in the nuts. It took a couple of Yoohoos, but we became soon became friends again. In fact, I still talk to Ryan today. As for Natalie, she can burn in hell for all I care. In any case, it was a memorable sight. I can’t wait to be sixty-five and to think back this moment while I’m on a beach in Florida double fisting a Mojito and a Mai Thai or whatever drinks are popular then.
What happened next could’ve and should’ve been the first and/or last few minutes of a movie. I walked in, looked around, stood right still, and watched for a moment. I was in utter and complete shock. I just couldn’t believe my eyes. I searched the room again and couldn’t find a single camera. Not a single camera. That little fact shot my first hypothesis to hell. Sadly, this wasn’t a porn taping. I don’t know why, but the next thought I had was that Ellie was a church-going-girl and that church-going-girls didn’t do gangbangs. Only pagans and Scandinavians did.
Then I didn’t really think much. Ellie looked me right in the eyes and screamed. She tried to cover herself up, but I’d say it was just a little too late. Then, mid thrust, each of the most-likely-AIDS-having-motherfuckers looked at me. They were just as shocked as I was.
I was about to turn away, let it all go, until I locked eyes with the Asian one. He body said that he lifted weights but his eyes told me he was scared. So what did I do? I closed the door and went all bamf on those assholes. I broke the bottle over one of their heads, kicked the other one in ankle deep, and popped one of the other guy’s testicles.
Oh, and I spit on the flowers and gave them to Ellie. Then I climbed out the window.
When I came home that night, my parents were up. I told them the whole story and that I wasn’t going to work tomorrow. My dad gave me a high five after he heard what I did. My mom just kind of stared at me. Then she hugged me.
I woke up this morning to a kitchen counter full of all my favorite booze with a little note taped to the Captain Morgan. Then I texted my friend.
(501): My mom just bought me $200 worth of booze on the condition that I promise I won't have to go to rehab eventually. Come over?
Nevertime – noun – 1) a time and place that will never happen. 2) a non vitriolic way to tell someone that there really is no chance/possibility that the action in question will occur