A Fiery Reflection
ButtChin never gets high. Oh, he tries to get stoned on a somewhat frequent basis, but no matter how many bong hits he takes he can never quite seem to slip into that semi-retarded state he sees his friends in night after night.
And this bothers the shit out of him.
So a few nights ago night ButtChin and his friend DullBlade get a call at midnight from JJ saying there’s a party at his friend’s house in Everett, a town about 30 minutes north of Seattle. At first ButtChin says no, because it’s a stupid idea to drive to a random party and drink for an hour and then pass out when they could do the same thing at their own house and probably wouldn’t have to ask where the bathroom is.
But DullBlade knows him too well.
“ButtChin, if you go with me to this party, I will smoke you out until you get high, no matter how much it takes.”
ButtChin considers his offer.
“Plus, I don’t have a car, so we need to take yours,” DullBlade adds.
ButtChin agrees, but only under the condition that he gets to ride shotgun and drink from an opaque milk jug filled with Natty Ice.
When they arrive in Everett there is already a circle of people smoking from a hollowed apple. ButtChin makes what he thinks are funny comments about Al Gore and heat stroke. The others give him confused looks. ButtChin realizes the gallon of beer is empty, and he is slurring his words like a prostitute with a dick in her mouth. ButtChin tries to calculate how many beers he fit into the gallon, but loses his train of thought as DullBlade produces a zip lock bag of what ButtChin believes is referred as “dank chron.”
ButtChin loads the apple and begins puffing...one bowl…and puffing...two bowls…and puffing...three…four…five bowls…
Oh my God, ButtChin is high. So high. So high the concept of “trees” causes side-splitting laughter. Trees...just standing there, waving like chocolate Gumbys, shedding leaves like it’s a legitimate thing to be doing.
Walking straight has single-handedly become the hardest task he has ever been faced with. He falls three times on his way to the deck’s sliding glass door. And then he sees it: fire. The kitchen counter is on fire. No one inside notices. ButtChin attempts to relay this message to the people behind him but can’t seem to summon the most simple of phonemes.
His head is spinning. He is still laughing about the trees. Tears of laughter are blurring his already blurry vision. He seriously can not feel his legs.
But, like any hero, he must rise up and conquer his hardships, self-inflicted or not.
ButtChin races inside, grabs full kegs cups from people’s hands and begins tossing them towards the fire. People are shouting in applause of his heroic efforts. So happy that he is saving the house, they are even yelling “Stop!” just so they don’t look bad in comparison to his courageousness. JJ, the guy who vouched for him that he was legit, is so in awe of ButtChin’s efforts that he clasps his hand over his eyes because the greatness is blinding him.
After nearly 10 cups the fire is still blazing. His eyes dart pathetically slow around the room for anything that can help, and then he sees it – his chance to finally stomp out the fire and save the day: a small potted plant, filled with moisturized, fire-smothering dirt. ButtChin tears the plant out of the flower pot, eliciting even more cries of applause, and tosses the dirt all over the kitchen counter. The fire is out. ButtChin has saved the day.
JJ is the first to speak.
“Dude! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?!?”
JJ really needs to learn how to change his tone of voice to show appreciation.
As ButtChin is washing the dirt off his hands, he looks at the kitchen counter he saved. Oddly enough, there is no trace of fire. Not one burn mark or anything that would suggest a fire had ever occurred. He must have put it out really fast!
He turns around to receive congratulatory handshakes, sexual favors, and, at the very least, a Key to the City of Everett, to which he had done a tremendous service.
But the night is not yet over. ButtChin looks outside and (prepare for goosebumps) sees the exact same fire he had just put out…crackling in the fire pit…reflecting in the sliding glass door to the deck…reflecting into the window just above the kitchen counter.
Postlude:
Yes, ButtChin threw what amounted to a 12-pack of beer at a reflection in the window and yes, he may have dumped a pot of wet dirt all over the kitchen counter, but let him assure you: cleaning up while stoned and drunk is way better than doing it sober. He knows this because when he woke up the kitchen looked like someone had thrown dirt and beer everywhere, and then, to clean up, made a Dirt Castle in the sink.
Go to Alex's Official Site, www.AlexBash.com
Buy The ImBible: Drinking Games for Times You'll Never Remember with Friends You'll Never Forget
alexbash1@gmail.com
Sometimes The Imbible and I watch the sunrise.
Alex Bash is author of The Imbible: Drinking Games for Times You’ll Never Remember with Friends You’ll Never Forget, currently available for pre-order on amazon.com. It hits shelves August 5th, and is not responsible for your lowered GPA and standards.
In contrast to his general belligerence, Alex works at a hospital where he saves lives, which he likes to remind people is no big deal. He can say otolaryngology in three languages and knows more about the Orbitofrontal Cortex than is necessary for someone who is not, technically, a doctor. He enjoys bubblegum toothpaste, strawberry Pop Tarts, and bench press.
Pictures
Alex on MySpace
Alex on Facebook
Alex on College Humor
Alex on Points in Case
Contact Alex
Join Alex’s Mailing List
Pretty Much Daily Quote
"A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts...except slurred, deragatory, and covered in Mexican food."
~ Alex Bash, 2008
Blog
Letting Yourself be Overwhelmed
(7/16/08) Sometimes life can be overwhelming, and even all the beer in the world can't help. It's at time like these you need to let yourself be overwhelmed, even if only for a moment, and then fight back against the forces that be.
Also, you should switch to hard liquor, because it gets you drunk faster.
Growing Up
(7/9/08)Sometimes when I look back at my life and the things I’ve done and been in to over the years, I get sad because I know I’ll never possess that level of ignorance. I’ll never be able to be the young and blissful without knowing that at least part of it is an act. The silliness will never be as silly, the goofiness never as goofy, and Saturday morning cartoons will become infinitely less entertaining without the addition of either nudity or cursing.
Then again, I can now legally drink myself into oblivion by my own free will, get a blowjob in the bar’s bathroom stall, and watch the sun rise from the top of a water tower I’m finally strong enough to climb.
Maybe growing up isn’t so bad.
Drinking with my best friends: Imbible, Imbible, Imbible, and Steve.
I really wish I could remember where this was taken.
People have told me this picture encapsulates who I am. Not sure what to think of that.
My editor sent me an extra large digital copy of The Imbible. I brought it to Canada with me...eh.
When in Rome, do as a frat boy does when he has ten minutes to get drunk for a date function.
Undefeated, naturally.
Synopsis
What do you do when you wake up in an unfamiliar neighborhood hand-cuffed to a fire hydrant, clothed in nothing but socks and pink nail polish, your hand clutching a stained legal document…written in French? Celebrate! You just had a great night! And to think—it all started with The ImBible.
Praise for The Imbible
"The Imbible introduces Bash as a major new talent in the genre of 'books most likely to make you run through campus naked…'" – Officer Hernandez
"A stunning debut by that guy who kept us up 'til 4am with drunken choruses of Wonder Wall..." - The Sorority Next Door
"A moving story about a college freshman eventually finding his pants from last night." - Overpaid Lobbyist
"No, but really, the book is hilarious. He's a seriously funny author." – Guy who is taking this way too seriously
"I have not woken up before noon since Alex wrote this book. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing." – Alex's roommate
Sample Games
Why You Should Buy The Imbible
If you feel bad buying a book about drinking, just cover up the first 5 letters.
The U.S. Marines’ first recruiting station was in a bar. The Marines kill bad people. Are you pro bad people?
Because if you don’t remember how you got the scar, you can make up as manly as story as you like.
18 games of beer pong is a scapegoat for anything.
THE IMBIBLE is guaranteed to lower your standards in 5 chapters or less!
Random Quotes from The Imbible
Emotions can definitely run high, so it's in your best interest to drink yourself numb.
Can you get a DUI riding a bike around the playground? I think not!
It’s only a matter of time before we’re boning fat chicks and singing-along to American Pie.
Note: Gold Medals do not prevent whiskey dick.
Whether you wear pants or not when you do this is on you.
I hope God doesn't count this night against me.
Pre-gaming a career fair.
Sometimes The Imbible and I do the Can-Can at 4am and then wake up in the front lawn clutching three empty bottles of champagne.