Rub-a-dub-docean, five divers in the ocean. Big Blue Dive School keeps me submerged for several days amongst fellow divers and plentiful marine life. I learn how not to drown, to be comfortable even, while 54 feet below the surface. My evenings find me drinking Chang and devouring delicious and unforgivingly spicy Thai food (the papaya salad gets me sweating and crying through every tangy, masochistic bite).
Three days and four dives later I finish the Open Water Dive course. I even got me the bonified cer-ti-fi-cation card to prove it. Yippee kai yo! There is celebration to be had for the occasion, so a few of us fellas from the dive team, Angus, George and I, get together along with our dive instructor Ollie for dinner and some excessive alcoholic beverage consumption.
We begin with an all-too-eager 5pm start, coupled with a non-stop flow of cold Chang and clinking Godfather shots (a Jameson and amaretto combo that goes down far too easily). By 9pm I find myself surprisingly obliterated by the combination. Glug glug glug, got me drinkin' like a fish. I haven't drank like this since a was in high-school. I am drunk as a skunk. With my liver unconditioned and ill-prepared to face the flood of alcohol, I am left little choice but to throw in the towel.
The following morning I slowly stir awake with a dull throbbing in the temples, but my pain is quickly forgotten when I sit down with the others to hear Ollie recount the previous night's tale. Now this is all hearsay, but as the story goes, after I had hit the hay (hard), Ollie, Angus, and George continued on with a fierce determination. They hopped next door to the ever-raging bar Cancun and continued to down copious amounts of beer and shots. By then Ollie was hopelessly blacked out and rearing to make some questionable decisions. Allegedly he was approached by a friendly female who, in his skewed drunken judgement, he considered a potential mate. According to the blackmail-worthy photographs Angus managed to snap at the bar, Ollie was holding her buns like they were a life raft in a heaving sea. With eyes distant and mouth agape, he looked to be having a fine time.
As the story goes, next thing Ollie knows it's four in the morning, and through a thick drunken haze he slowly comes to the realization that he has no idea whose apartment bed he is laying in. He looks around the dark room and meets the eyes of a small dog, sitting beside him on the bed, staring deeply into his soul. He then peers downward to find a strange, homely looking gal (who had appeared to him a beauty-queen only hours before), performing determined fellatio on him in his semi-unconscious state.
According to Ollie he hopped up and bolted right out of there, but I think he stuck around for a bit longer...Ollie refuses to so much as glance at the embarrassing photos that Angus presents to him (and all of us) the next day. He will try his very best to wipe the whole ordeal from his memory, pretend like it never happened, but I have a feeling that the soulful stare of that little dog on the bed will flash into his mind every time he receives a blowjob for the rest of his days. Lil Bow Wow.
No comments :
Post a Comment