Last night, prompted by a situation involving his kuntly (DP-ism) ex-wife, Chaos Boy drank over half a fifth of Bitch-Be-Gone, aka “Bulleit Rye and shame.” Not surprisingly, chaos ensued. (I should mention now that I, Danger Puppy, was in full possession of my faculties as I had consumed only water and self-righteousness.)
First I’d like to let it be known that I’m a hero. I literally saved CB’s life. There was a spider having a bit of a frolic above a bookcase in The Lair. CB is the designated “Spider Slayer” because I am a tremendous titbag. When I pointed out the spider, CB started to get up to kill it (meaning flush it while saying “go see Jesus”). I did a quick calculation involving the height the spider was at, the angle at which CB would have to reach, and how much liquor was left in the decanter (in my head y’all = amazeballs) and arrived at a frightening conclusion: STEP LADDER! In spite of my love of life insurance, I pulled CB back onto the couch. You see? HERO! (Also, I took that bitch ass spider out myself when he started drifting toward my Dooneys.)
It wasn’t until we were getting ready to head up to bed that I realized CB was the drunkest I’d ever seen him. He came out of the downstairs bathroom and ran into the wall. I made an executive decision at that point: he should go up the stairs ahead of me in case he lost his tenuous control over gravity. This was a great idea until I told him I wouldn’t have to do these things if he hadn’t “gone Irish,” at which point I called him “Drunky O’Shitfaced.” He was laughing so hard he had to stop halfway up the stairs. In keeping with the Irish theme, he danced a naked jig when we got to our room. (Not a result of drunkenness. He has done this many times. Far. Too. Many.)
The final straw came when he started laughing so hard while trying to take an allergy pill that I thought he might choke. That was my cue to shut down the antics. Again, I’m a fan of life insurance, but I don’t really want to be collecting any time soon.
This morning he wouldn’t cop to having a hangover, but he did say that was the last time I’d be seeing him that drunk. 😉
Update on the umbrella: it was in his t-shirt drawer. Yeah, honey. Cuz that’s where it goes.