Friday, July 01, 2011

College Week: Rape?

Hey, bitch, stop eating my never-ending pasta!
We close College Week with a submission from 2011 Commenter Rookie of the Year, Ide.  I really, really want to believe that Petey Pablo has a place in this saga.  SPIN IT LIKE A HELLICOPTA!
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This is a tale of rape, water sports, light racism, and a sizable amount of alcohol. Since this happened in NC, and none of you know these fine people, I’ll give you the rundown of the players.

Ben – my roommate. Real good ol’ boy from Alabama or thereabouts. He had a 12 pack of Busch Light in his car at all times that he called his roadside assistance program. He drove a ragged 1990 Isuzu Trooper that I wrote “I Hate Blacks” in his filthy back window. He made it a point to leave it there.

Jimmy – Not really sure how we came to know each other. But suffice it to say, there are so many minorities down there that you’re bound to befriend one of them. He was mixed, so he wasn’t half bad. He was also 6’5 and around 280 lbs and saved me from no less than 30 ass beatings. It’s remarkable how much shit you can talk to random assholes when you have a massive black guy behind you. He was indifferent about Ben’s back window.

Erica – Real trashy whore. She made a name for herself when she pissed all over my buddy in the middle of riding him one drunken night. I actually loathed her because she was foul and had a penchant for pissing everywhere. However, I also applauded her pissing on my friend, because no one deserved it more, and it was fucking hilarious.

Vanessa – My roommate, Ben, had a throw away girl. This was her. She was a bit husky, yet still (presumably) wore a training bra. She was Brazilian or Colombian or some other sort of Mexican, but went to UNC, and was born in the US. Probably not her parents though. She was gross, and smelled like cheap Mexican perfume.

It was a Tuesday night, and my friends and I went to eat at Olive Garden. Jimmy decides to start doing shots. Not sure how that is even possible when I’m almost certain Olive Garden doesn’t make shots, but he makes it possible. This also should have been a tell tale sign that this night was going to go down the wrong path. It was all you can eat pasta night, and we were poor college kids, so we did the urban thing and ordered another round to promptly be boxed up. I let Jimmy do the talking on that one since he is a minority and inherently was expected to do something of that nature anyways.

We then head off to Clubhouse, I believe, where it was $2 Tuesdays. Everything is, you guessed it, $2. It starts getting pretty intense and I am seemingly striking out on anything with a set of breasts. Ben isn’t faring much better, but Jimmy landed one. Now, Jimmy was always able to pull down some decent tail, and to this day, we aren’t sure where he deviated from his usual strategy, but he was chatting up a girl of equal stature of his. To put it plainly, this bitch was huge. The kind of girl that was taller lying down than standing up. Mean spirited insults and cattle calls were hurled at her from our corner. When all else fails in the picking up girls department, make fun of others, I always say. Jimmy was embarrassed at his willingness to settle, but at this time was way too drunk to care.

We eventually lured him out of that beastly trap by having our friend Heather agree to come over to our place to drink beer, and what have you. Jimmy agreed, and it was a go. We get back to my place and Heather went back to hers to grab some beer and roommates. Jimmy used my phone to call her, and the only thing I heard him say was, “Vodka?! I thought you had beer, fuck it, bring that”, then hangs up. Ben and I go to these girls house near campus because we were still hopeful that we could get some ass that night. However, this proved to me uneventful and purely misguided. Always a forward looking individual, Ben, in between guzzling several Busch Lights mid drive, had arranged for Vanessa and Erica to come over. They were a package deal, so Erica was going to sleep on the floor, because I’d be damned if she went near my furniture. And Ben was going to get Vanessa, I was relegated to sleeping alone, and that was fine with me. Then we got home…

I was really hungry and looking forward to that aforementioned pasta from Olive Garden. Now the layout of my place is as such: you walk in the front door and my room was immediately to the right, living room, kitchen (with pasta!), and other bedroom off to the left. I walk into what amounts to be 680 lbs of raw and unimaginable terror. That fat bitch somehow lumbered her way up three flights of stairs and was fucking Jimmy right there on my couch. My couch was literally crying in pain, the timber from within was snapping in every which way. Holy fuck. I panicked and went left towards the madness because I was still set on pasta, but I couldn’t stop in the kitchen since it looked out into the living room, so I bee lined over to Ben’s room where I ran in on a hideously naked Vanessa on his bed.

“MY EYES!” probably wasn’t the first reaction that Vanessa wanted to hear, but reality is a harsh mistress. I just stood there speechless, when Ben comes up and goes:
“What the fuck is going on and why are you in my room?”
“I panicked and I wanted pasta.”
“Well now you’re fucked, because you have to walk all the way back to your room.”
“It smells like horses out there”
“Yeah, you should have thought of that before you came this way”
Vanessa says “Erica is out there”
“She’d better be on the fucking floor”
“She isn’t”
Fuck.

I ran across to my room, but noticed that they were still going at it. I didn’t get a good survey of the activities, but I noted that Jimmy was on bottom. The skin contrast indicated as such. I awoke the next morning to find Jimmy lying naked covered up in a towel in my dining room. The smell was still lingering. Nothing quite like the stench of a 350 lb rhino fucking a like sized black guy. I noticed that there were three empty pasta boxes on my coffee table. Now my breakfast plans were shot. I demanded answers.

ME: What the fuck Jimmy? What happened to Heather? WHY WAS THERE A FUCKING MAMMOTH RIDING YOU ON MY COUCH?!
JIMMY: Dunno, I thought I called Heather, but I must have called that fat bitch. She came over with vodka and slipped me 2 muscle relaxers. All I could do is lay there while she had her way with me. It was fucked up.
ME: You’re telling me you were raped? (laughter) You ate all of our goddamned pasta. What was that, foreplay?
JIMMY: She was hungry. She ate all three boxes.

Furious at everything that happened I sat down on my loveseat as it was the only appropriate place to sit. I was a little dreary so I leaned over to rest when my arm went right into a piss soaked cushion. I knew immediately what had happened. I forgot all about Erica, and she was nowhere to be found.

Ben awoke and came out smelling of cheap Mexican perfume and shame. We spent the next hour sitting on the floor cracking fat jokes to Jimmy while he threw up 8 times. My couch never recovered, and I think Reba has actually sat on it before. Everyone always asked why it sunk in, and I always laughed it off. Because, really, who’s going to believe that a black guy was raped on my couch? We ended up keeping that bottle of vodka as a souvenir, and we never heard nor saw that behemoth again.
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Couches are replacable but eating three boxes of pasta is going to far.  No Fat Chicks, my friends, No fucking Fat Chicks indeed.  I hope that you all enjoyed College Week as much as I did.  I'll be back on Tuesday possibly talking about sports again.  Possibly.

13 comments:

Grumpy said...

Please bring back sports and get us out of this mess. Or let Drew tell more strip club stories.

MUDawgfan said...

It was a Tuesday night, and my friends and I went to eat at Olive Garden

As far as I'm concerned, this was the funniest part of the story.

Anonymous said...

I preferred "it smells like horses out there".

Grumpy, feel free to breakdown the nba lockout on your own time.

I suppose if anyone wants to point and laugh at The Terrelle Pryor Illiteracy Hour with This Guy Gruden, ill allow it. I didn't watch it but I assume that it was hilarious in that neither guy knows anything about QB play.

--$

Anonymous said...

Good story and Grumpy's comment made me laugh.

I had a couple buddies that tag teamed a 300lb bitch back in college. This girl was HUGE and they tag teamed her one night when they were shit faced. They had a lot of shame for a few days.

--Drew

Prime99 said...

I second the "it smells like horses out there" line was the funniest of the post.

The description of the huge girl definitely reminded me of "Deuce Bigalow" when people are yelling at the large Swedish girl "That's a huge bitch!" or "take it back to the circus" or "behemoth!" So awesome.

Anonymous said...

I think Ide has cemented himself as 2011 commenter ROY. There's nowhere to go but down for you, sir.

I thought the TP-Gruden thing was entertaining. TP didn't look nearly as dumb as I thought he would. He even mentioned that he never lost to Michigan, which is fantastic.

Dut

Anonymous said...

Nothing pisses me off more than putting together a solid plan for a late night munch and someone destroys it. Especially if it was some fat whale that raped your roomate! Which to me, just sounds like a likley excuse for getting caught in that scene.

- J Saul

Anonymous said...

In an apt filled with ridiculous hook ups, this one took the bill. College muff stories are always a good time.

-Ide

Anonymous said...

Jeff Carter and now J-Wiz? Jackets are going to win not one not two not three, etc Cups, bitch!

--G$

The Iceman said...

"It smells like horses out there" - Best. Line. Ever.

I demand more guest posts from Ide.

Anonymous said...

You're in luck, Iceman, as he has already submitted another entry to be used later this month.

--$

Prime99 said...

Ide is a prolific commenter. Putting the rest of us to shame.

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