I've never been a huge fan of any game where a ball passes back and forth over a net. I don't care much for tennis, ping pong, badminton, or volleyball. But, my college roommate, Scott, was a real volleyball fanatic. I mean, he was crazy about it. So, like any good buddy, I would go along to pickup games and play when he needed a teammate.
On the campus of Fresno State, near the dorm buildings, there was a large grass area with two or three volleyball nets set up. And during any given evening, there was always at least one game going on. Two on two, three on three, five on five, girls, guys, whatever. The one common thing about these games was that they were always played in shorts and bare feet.
One afternoon in mid-spring, we stopped by to see if we could get in on a game. "Mind if we join you?" asked Scott to whoever could hear him.
"Not my ball," came an answer from a tall, tanned, blond guy wearing sunglasses, white board shorts, and a matching white visor.
"What?" asked Scott.
"Not my ball, not my game."
"Well who's ball is it?" asked Scott.
"Jeff."
"Who is Jeff?" asked Scott.
"Jeff's not here," answered tall blond guy.
What a fucking asshole.
We both looked around at the other players and saw that none of them would make eye contact with us or even look in our direction.
What a collection of assholes.
Scott and I headed home and busted into a 12 pack of bud light. He was still fuming and would not let the volleyball snubbing go. The more he drank, the madder he got. "Motherfuckers," he whined, "let's go back there and beat that cocksucker's ass."
But there was no way I was going all the way back to campus to look around for the dickhead. First, there was no way we would be able to find him, and even if we did, we would be there on his turf. He probably lived in the dorms, so he would be surrounded by his buddies, and there was no way they would stand by and let the two of us beat the shit out of their "bro".
Instead I suggested that we walk down to our local 7-Eleven and buy another 12 pack. Scott relented and went along with my plan.
After killing a few more beers, we came up with a plan that we could both get behind. We took all of our empty bottles and threw them in a five gallon bucket and then repeatedly dropped a cinder block onto the bottles until they were smashed into little tiny shards of broken glass. Then, we took the bucket with us as we drove back to campus. By the time we got there, the grass area was empty. There was nobody around with only faint sounds of laughter and music coming from the nearby dorms.
We carefully walked back and forth across the lawn and poured the broken glass all over the entire volleyball court.
Have a good game, motherfuckers.
Volleyball Assholes
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- Dear Booze
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Volleyball Assholes
Last edited by Dear Booze on Mon Jul 09, 2018 7:22 am, edited 1 time in total.
DRINK!
Re: Volleyball Assholes
You know where you are?
You`re on the golfcourse baby.
You gonna diiiiiiiieeeeee
You`re on the golfcourse baby.
You gonna diiiiiiiieeeeee
Drink!
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Re: Volleyball Assholes
That's friggin solid writing. Hells yes. Damn douchebags to wrinkly saggy leather skin.Dear Booze wrote: ↑Sat Jul 07, 2018 11:39 pm
"Who is Jeff?" asked Scott.
"Jeff's not here," answered tall blond guy.
Ha!