Adam is a hairy man. Quite possibly the hairiest man this side of the Mississippi River. So when he's shirtless with a bottle of massage oil dumped over his entire body waving a near-empty wine bottle above his head you tend to take note of his presence.
We had been drinking for most the night. Vodka and cranberry juice. Cheap wine. Jim Beam. The ever-present beer. We had plowed through most this collection with a reckless abandon while discussing the creative merits of the Paul McCartney album "Ram". At around 1am, Adam began getting 'huggy'. You all know the score. "I love you all!!!", "HUGS! Everyone gets HUGS", "You are the best friends EVER!!!". A round of hugs was forced on us like a contageous ailment sweeping a small country, except the country was my apartment and the ailment was a misty-eyed Adam - completely ripped to the tits. After the first epidemic, his eyes rolled back into head and he uttered a Norse viking bray that shook the walls and made "Nashville Skyline" skip on the turntable. Then he ripped his shirt off.
From some unseen place he produced a bottle of Bath and Body Works massage oil and dumped the entire contents on his body, mumbling about
'wind resistance'. Okay...fine, you bastard....make a grease pit of my apartment. I don't care. Get me a beer, you dick. You'll be able to do it quick now, with the lowered wind resistance and all....
He then demanded a second round of hugs, and nevermind that he was covered in a lavender-smelling slop, he wanted them NOW. Well, this wouldnt fly and he eventually needed to be physically subdued and pinned face-down on the floor (he was trying to use a lamp as a tazer....). That's when we all saw IT.
IT was staring us in the face. IT was a monster; a terrible evil-eye of a thing. But what exactly was IT? IT looked like a small mushroom cloud of skin coming out of his back. IT was a massive skin-tag.
Now something must be said about Adam: Adam recently accuired himself a girlfriend - a feat that he hadn't been able to tackle for about a year and a half prior. So this skin-tag wouldn't do at all. As soon as she saw that awful fucking chancre she's piss herself and then die. It HAD to be removed, and it had to be removed right then.
We moved him to the couch and fed him some more booze. It was the only thing we had that could numb him to the proper point of...well...not caring that his friends were about to perform surgery on him. I also fed myself quite a bit more booze when I realized that I was to be the surgeon. Then we waited for the rest of the medicine to kick in while others prepared my surgical instruments.
I sanitized my scalpel (toe-nail clippers) with anitiseptic solution (cheap vodka) and prepared the gauze (napkins). I then preped the patient (pouring a bunch of the said vodka on Adams back). My friends and I then procedded to engage Adam in conversation as a distraction. While talking to him, I positioned the scalpel (I put the clipper around the thin yarn of flesh that connected the bulb of ugliness to the back). Then waited til Adam was wrapped up in some distracting conversation and music.
And then...
*clip*
The clippers were dull and didn't cut all the way through. Shit, I though. what do I do now? Adam was yelping and trying to buck off the people holding him, so I did what seemed like the best idea at the time: yanking the bastard off. With a hefty tug the thing came off, puncuatated with more screaming.
Then it was over. A minute after it happened, Adam didn't remember a thing and was sleeping soundly on the couch. But I needed another drink. And another. And another. It was an ugly experience, mind you, and something that should be buried under a sea of whiskey. And buried it was.
In the morning, Adam had no idea that we had saved his sex life with toenail clippers and hooch. He didn't remember it happening at all.
So that was my weekend story.
Adam's Impromptu Surgery....
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Bob Dylan's Moustache
- Souse
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Adam's Impromptu Surgery....
Tipped to the Ritz.
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Gin McGuinness
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Bob Dylan's Moustache
- Souse
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Bob Dylan's Moustache
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bluebottle
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General E. Fubar
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I can imagine... any place that puts 6 foot pieces of rebar and a little flag on top of fire hydrants so you can find them in the snow... that's just crazyBob Dylan's Moustache wrote:We're good people, we just get a bit loopy in the winter. It's very cold, you must understand.Gin McGuinness wrote:I'm never visiting Minnesota.... and I don't have skin tags.... FECK!
And Adam's healing up nicely...
"I hope you like Guinness, I find it a refreshing substitute to... food."
- O'Neill
If I stop drinking all at once, I'm afraid the cumulative hangover will kill me.
- Archer
