All of this reminds me of a story...
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"Beer Bong Billy," as he was called at the
time, was an inventive young drunkard living in Ocean
City, MD. Billy had constructed the mother of all beer bongs -- two funnels connected to one
long tube using a Y-shaped splitter. Billy would stand on the sidewalk below, his thumb
stopping up the hole at the end of the tube, as the beer bong was filled by fellow partiers on
the second floor porch of an apartment on 28th Street. When filled to capacity, the beer bong
held about six beers.
One night, Billy was showing off his beer bong at a party to which a lot of strangers had been invited. He foolishly entrusted the strangers to fill his beer bong so that he could demonstrate his beer drinking prowess. As Billy stood on the sidewalk below, he was unaware that the young people above began adding unexpected substances to the beer filling his bong - hot sauce, dishwashing liquid, vodka, cough syrup, and who-knows-what other ingredients were added to what could have surely been a toxic mixture; some of Billy's new "friends" even spit in it.
When the beer bong was filled to its
colossal capacity, Billy made short work of consuming every drop that it contained, still
unaware of its contents. After a few minutes of having ingested the concoction, Billy got a
little disoriented and ended up falling asleep next to his refrigerator. Billy woke up a
couple of hours later, as the crowd at the party was continuing to grow. He went upstairs,
found his beer bong, and gathered a second group of strangers to fill it for him once again.
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This is a true story; I was there.
I constructed this story (or his-story) around Billy, always placing him before any others. However, what I didn't say is just as important as what I did say.
I am NOT Beer Bong Billy. Billy was a guy I knew when I lived at the beach, and he was a hopeless lush. I also didn't say that I and several of my friends tried to tell Billy not to drink the beer bong. Bill wouldn't listen - he thought we were lying to keep him from getting drunk. I also didn't say that our friend, who was a registered nurse, kept an eye on Billy the entire time he was unconscious. Another friend had the phone in his hand for nearly two hours ready to dial 911. We really thought that Billy might die, but we also knew that if we called the authorities to this party, we'd all be in a lot of trouble. So, getting him medical attention was a last resort. In retrospect, our priorities were a little screwed up.
Anyway, I wanted this story to be about Billy, because it's his foolish decisions and actions that are most important. I assumed that some people would think that I was Beer Bong Billy, which would have been fine as it would add a sense of personal interest to the story. Also, had I brought up the issues of Billy's friends being really scared while all this was going on, and how we didn't call an ambulance even though we thought he might die, the focus of the story would have changed from Billy to us. This is a history of Billy, not a history of his friends, but does leaving some parts out paint an inaccurate picture?
Anyway, we, Billy's friends, didn't let strangers fill the beer bong the second time. We filled it with nothing but beer. Also, we decided that we wouldn't let Billy drink it. He went to the bathroom when it was just about full, I drank it, and we told him that he drank it then went to the bathroom. He had no idea that he hadn't.
A response to W. Chewning's "Who, What, and Where of Narration -- Why?" by P. Hartman
That story brought a tear to my eye...sniffle...poor Beer Bong Billy didn't get another go....
A response to P. Hartman's post by E. Piccirillo
hey phil- i was just wondering if you wanted to subscribe to the capital.
thanks. bye.
A response to W. Chewning's "Who, What, and Where of Narration -- Why?" by S. Kibler
Bill, you have the best stories. But, in the future, if you're going to tell an "I have a
friend story..." you might not want to name him Billy. Just a suggestion.