O.K. So this happened a long time ago, but I'm still laughing my ass off today. 1st let me lay a little ground work for this little tale. I used to rent a house with a good friend of mine that I've known since I was 5 years old. He's practically like another brother to me. In addition, he has also fortunately supplied me with a great deal of material for my blogging.
So we used to rent a house on Liberty Street together. Nice place. 2 bedrooms and a living room upstairs, as well as a huge party room downstairs, with a half bath and laundry room off the back of the room. It was often "open to the public" for after hours when the bars of Oswego would close. If the walls could talk..... Well, let's just say Hollywood might have an interest in using the "goings on" in that house for a movie. Some pretty funny, as well as f#*ked up shit when on there. And here's one of them.
One night my roomie comes home intoxicated. Hard to believe, I know, but it happened. Fortunately this was not one of those after hours nights, so I wasn't pulled from a slumber by a bunch of drunks shaking the house with earth shattering tunes on the stereo downstairs. I, being the responsible one, went to bed early because I had to work in the morning (in other words, I passed out a few hours before he got home.
So as usual he makes some sort of mess in the kitchen for his bedtime snack. This time it was a heaping plate of pasta with sauce. Perfect for letting the dishes sit out over night and really let the Ragu dry on to the pans and plate. Which who do you think got stuck cleaning the dishes. I wish I had more patience to wait for the kitchen to be cleaned up, but I wanted to eat again before the end of the month.
At just past sunrise I was snatched from my beauty sleep to hear blood curdling screaming. I swear to you I expected to see Leather Face in the house gunning his chain saw, ready to kill anyone in his path.
Being the great guy that I am, I ran out of my room, unarmed to save the day. But seriously, I thought my roommate was being stabbed to death. What I thought I could to do to help is beyond me.
So there we are in the kitchen.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I bellowed.
"I'm bleeding, I'm bleeding!!!" he sobs.
In his defense, his entire foot was covered in dark red. He looked like Curt Schilling standing on the mound with the infamous bloody sock. So as I'm doing my best to calm him down, I began to put 2 and 2 together. I see a series of "bloody footprints" leading from the living to his bedroom.
"Hey you idiot. What did you eat when you got home last night?"
"I dunno.....Why?"
"Was it pasta and sauce?" I inquired.
"Uhhh.....yea. I think it was. How'd you know that?" he asked with a rather puzzling look.
"Cause I think I found the person who stabbed you" I chuckled.
That numbnuts must have put his feet up on the ottoman in front of the chair in the upstairs living room and fell asleep. And I'll give you one guess as to what was still sitting on the foot rest. Yup. A stale plate of cold pasta with sauce. He left "bloody prints" all across the carpet directly leading to his bed and passed out. Then when he got up to piss in the morning he thought his foot had been hacked to pieces.
I swear I couldn't make this one up if I tried. It's been over 7 years since I lived in that house. Lots of good memories. And who knows, probably some more material for me to use on a future post for my readers. Stay tuned. :)
So we used to rent a house on Liberty Street together. Nice place. 2 bedrooms and a living room upstairs, as well as a huge party room downstairs, with a half bath and laundry room off the back of the room. It was often "open to the public" for after hours when the bars of Oswego would close. If the walls could talk..... Well, let's just say Hollywood might have an interest in using the "goings on" in that house for a movie. Some pretty funny, as well as f#*ked up shit when on there. And here's one of them.
One night my roomie comes home intoxicated. Hard to believe, I know, but it happened. Fortunately this was not one of those after hours nights, so I wasn't pulled from a slumber by a bunch of drunks shaking the house with earth shattering tunes on the stereo downstairs. I, being the responsible one, went to bed early because I had to work in the morning (in other words, I passed out a few hours before he got home.
So as usual he makes some sort of mess in the kitchen for his bedtime snack. This time it was a heaping plate of pasta with sauce. Perfect for letting the dishes sit out over night and really let the Ragu dry on to the pans and plate. Which who do you think got stuck cleaning the dishes. I wish I had more patience to wait for the kitchen to be cleaned up, but I wanted to eat again before the end of the month.
At just past sunrise I was snatched from my beauty sleep to hear blood curdling screaming. I swear to you I expected to see Leather Face in the house gunning his chain saw, ready to kill anyone in his path.
Being the great guy that I am, I ran out of my room, unarmed to save the day. But seriously, I thought my roommate was being stabbed to death. What I thought I could to do to help is beyond me.
So there we are in the kitchen.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I bellowed.
"I'm bleeding, I'm bleeding!!!" he sobs.
In his defense, his entire foot was covered in dark red. He looked like Curt Schilling standing on the mound with the infamous bloody sock. So as I'm doing my best to calm him down, I began to put 2 and 2 together. I see a series of "bloody footprints" leading from the living to his bedroom.
"Hey you idiot. What did you eat when you got home last night?"
"I dunno.....Why?"
"Was it pasta and sauce?" I inquired.
"Uhhh.....yea. I think it was. How'd you know that?" he asked with a rather puzzling look.
"Cause I think I found the person who stabbed you" I chuckled.
That numbnuts must have put his feet up on the ottoman in front of the chair in the upstairs living room and fell asleep. And I'll give you one guess as to what was still sitting on the foot rest. Yup. A stale plate of cold pasta with sauce. He left "bloody prints" all across the carpet directly leading to his bed and passed out. Then when he got up to piss in the morning he thought his foot had been hacked to pieces.
I swear I couldn't make this one up if I tried. It's been over 7 years since I lived in that house. Lots of good memories. And who knows, probably some more material for me to use on a future post for my readers. Stay tuned. :)
