Thursday, April 24, 2008

Hell Night '08

There are people in this world that should just never drink whiskey. Ever. Everyone knows that fact but the people to whom it applies.

I got a call yesterday from a friend of mine that had just recently gotten out of prison. He did some stupid things in the past. He went in and did his time. I figured it would be cool to see him, since we've been friends for nearly a decade, except for the last two years when he was locked up. We're going to call him Steve, just for fun.

His roommate is a guy that used to work for me when I was a manager at a burger joint here in town. We'll call him Joe. Joe is a fucking idiot, and the one to whom I refer when I say there are people that should never drink whiskey.

By the time I had gotten to their house, they had killed the majority of a large bottle of Evan Williams black label. They were drunk and loud; they kept wrestling with one another, but that's just what happens when you give a couple of Kansas boys some whiskey. I just did what I always do: kept clear of them and made sure they didn't break anything when they fell to the ground, like the beer pong table they insisted I sign before I left.

A couple of hours after I got there, Joe left for a while to get some cigarettes or something. When he got back, he parked halfway down the block, rather than in front of the house. We all waved for him to move up. He thought it would be cute to drive over the curb, into the yard and up to the steps of the porch. Problem with that idea was that I was standing in front of the steps of the porch. I thought he was going to try and be cool and pull up super close to me, so I stood my ground. When he got within a couple of inches of me, I waved for him to stop. When the bumper of his Ford Ranger touched my knees, I tapped the hood to, again, tell him to stop. When I went down against the steps of the porch with my knees pinned between the truck and the steps, he finally stopped. He was honestly mere inches from shattering my knees. Luckily, I got out of the deal with some bruises and swelling in the backs of my knees.

He got out of his truck, he and Steve fought some more, then he came up to me and said "Mitchell, man, I love you, man." He put his head under my arm to try and get a hug, so I converted that into a head lock and held on as long as I could. I knew this guy could kick my ass if he really wanted to, so I didn't take it too far. We went to the ground and I held on. After explaining that I wasn't going to fight, I let go and got up. We all went inside.

As the night progressed further, Joe continuously tried to attack Steve, who was asking him to lay off. He wouldn't, and Steve ended up clocking him good, making his forehead bleed. You would think that would get him to back off, but it didn't. Later that night, he jumped on Steve's back and tried to choke him out. Just before Steve blacked out, he flipped Joe onto the couch and punched him repeatedly in the head. He claims to not remember doing it.

I went outside to get some air and get the fuck away from all the conflict. That's not really my bag, though I didn't feel bad for Joe getting his ass kicked, considering he had hit me with a truck. Through the screen door, I could hear more banging. As I started to go inside, I saw them come flying past the door, then back into the living room. Steve pinned Joe to the couch and began trying to talk him down, telling him that it was over. When he finally let him up, Joe punched a hole in the wall and went upstairs to his room, stumbling back down the stairs ten minutes later, telling Steve that he'd "better leave right now." I decided that was the perfect time for me to heed the same advice and got the fuck out of there. I had had enough conflict and violence to last me the next couple of years. First I signed the beer pong table:

Mitchell Hargrave
Hell Night '08

Two other accidental spectators of the chaos signed the same, and the name was established.

Ultimately, it was a fucked up night, but I'll see Steve again. He was drunk, but honestly just trying to keep the peace. But he did what he had to do when Joe continuously tried to start fights with him. He's fucked up a few times in his life, and I've taken a little of the collateral damage from those fuck ups once or twice. But he's generally been a good friend to me, and he's stuck up for me when I needed it before. I just hope he gets out of his current living situation before it gets him into more trouble.

3 comments:

Nora said...

I'm gonna go out on a limb and suggest that:

Joe = Parole violation waiting to happen.

Hope Steve gets a new roommate.

theeriver said...

I think we all had one of these type of friends like Joe. Little out of control, and sometimes downright insane, but in my experience as crazy as they are they are the first ones to stick with me when the proverbial poop hits the fan.

A friend will bail you out of jail, a true friend will be sitting next to you going, "How the heck we end up in jail."

Mitchell said...

Steve is that type of friend.

Joe is just a piece of shit.