AHDRS Pt 2 An Escalation of Events

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I sat there holding the bag of shrooms awkwardly in front of Ashley. I answered my phone, exchanged a few brief words, and hung up. She looked at me eagerly, but I, not so much. I pocketed the shrooms. I looked at Rampy, who was simultaneously kissing both Candace and Sara at the same time. Without skipping a beat he formed a fist, I looked at it, to Ashley, and back at it. I tentatively pounded, and Rampy giggled a little. The girls did too. Skanks. I strolled over to the minibar, poured a rather large Grey Goose and Cranberry. Rampy needed some privacy right now. I gestured for Ashley to join me, and I lead her by the hand into the hall.

“I have to check on my friend real quick. This will only take a second, but a few of my friends just got here too and I have to go meet them upstairs. Come with me.”

She looked at me and coyly asked, “Where's the bathroom?”

“Well, how convenient that you asked,” I sang as I skipped down the hall to the bathroom. “My friend was passed out in here the last time I saw him, and he wasn't going anywhere. He passed out standing up with his dick in his hand. How funny is that?”

She laughed and followed me to the end of the hall. I knocked. Slappy didn't answer. I put an ear to wood. I could hear violent retching and the toilet water splashing, but nothing else, even when I called for him. I tried to open it, but it was locked. The lock was the type that needed a key, not just a little screwdriver to open. I knocked harder, and Ashley did too. We both hollered his name, asked if he was OK, but Slappy wouldn't answer. Just throw up, or shit, but regardless what it was the stench drifted through the cracks in the door and stank up the hallway. I couldn't handle the stench. It made me want to throw up, too.

“Come one, Ashley, let's go upstairs and meet my friends. Slappy's fucked up, and he's not goin anywhere. I feel bad for the guy, he sounds really sick, but this wreaks.”

“He sounded pretty bad, but he's probably just embarrassed. It's OK, some kids can't handle themselves as well as others.”

She followed me out the door at the end of the hall, and we waded through the crowd of ever increasing kids. I couldn't even count them all, and I barely knew any. James was still on the table, and I wondered how one could play that many games of pong with out getting bored. Oh wait, ego masturbation. Some people just have to prove themselves to everyone. Kelly was updating her facebook via her phone. Rampy and the girls danced in the darkened corner that many of the other couples had congregated in. I saw Joker leading cow girl slut into the hall where the super fucking cool room, bathroom, and a few guest rooms were located. I guess they got kicked out of upstairs. Weirdos.

Hiking up the stairs seemed like it would suck at first, I was drunk by now, but I strode up the steps with relative ease. Ashley gracefully followed suit. We opened the door into the kitchen, and I noted the Hitler mustache, added cock and balls, unibrow, and other scrawls on the passed out nurse slut. I asked Ashley if she wanted to add something to the growing mural, and she drew a smiley face out of a cock and balls.

I heard some voices from the family potpourri room, and recognized Frank's booming voice. I heard Tiffany, too. She sounded like she was crying. Sobbing, actually, and loudly. Ashley and I tip-toed around the corner, where I was surprised to see Frank consoling Tiffany, but they weren't alone. My friends Danky, Mike, and the foreign exchange student that was living with Frank, Salvatore, had arrived. They were dressed as the Three Stooges, Larry, Moe, and Curly. We walked up to them, I introduced Ashley to the boys, and I asked Tiffany why she was crying. Her cakey makeup was ruined, and her eyeliner streaked down her face. You could tell she was really, really upset.

“It's my new boyfriend, Jon, the bunny. Do you remember him? You were right, he's really sick. I found him outside and he threw up blood. I don't know what to do! I took him up to my parents room to rest, but he's still throwing up. He won't stop. I just don't know what to do...Aaron can you help him? Please? You're really smart, you know what to do, right?”

She hugged me, that same awkward hug, and I glanced over her shoulder at Ashley. Tiffany sobbed into my orange pumpkin shirt, let go, and started using her tears to smooth out the creases in her skirt. I felt really bad for her, not really for her boyfriend, but for her. I think it's because she was so excited to show this kid off to her friends, but now he's making her look like an ass.

I put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Hey, hey, hey, don't cry! I'll go check up on him with Frank and the guys, isn't that right?”

I put on my best serious face. It's not that serious, but they got the message. Van Halen and the Stooges nodded, and Ashley followed us as we made our way up the huge staircase. The top level of the house was as massive as the other two. Tiffany had directed us to the third room on the left, and we entered into the master bedroom. Bunny boy was lying on the bed, there was a trash can moved up next to him. Towels were on the floor, water bottles on the bed. You could tell she had tried her best to take care of him. That same stench from earlier, from the kitchen, it permeated the whole room. Salvatore gagged, and ran out. “I don't like....I don't like...ugh! Gross Americans..... He never learn to drink?” Danky and Mike were disgusted as well. Danky looked pale, paler than me! Ghost status, sheet status, the albino stooge. I looked at everyone, and told them to go down to the basement study. The bong was there, I'd take care of this and meet them there. We could smoke some bowls, I mean, the night was still young. It was only 9; I explained to them that this kid, Jon, had just cashed out and he was fine. His breathing was regular, anyways. They left, and Ashley stayed. "No use in you staying too unless you can put those witch powers to use," I teased. She dove straight into my eyes, and we stared at eachother. Sexual tension, who doesn't love it? I told her to leave, no woman should have to stomach this stench, she did, and I approached the bed.

This kid was FUCKED up. Just entering his general vicinity gave me a buzz, it wreaked. I figured it was a combination of that couple from earlier along with the vomit. He'd already filled the trash can. I took it to the bathroom, dumped it in the toilet, washed the can out, and brought it back to him. I talked to him, asking questions about how he felt, but I think he was passed out. His breath was rank, but at least it wasn't labored. Maybe he was just passed out? He needed sleep if he was this drunk. Jesus H Christ, that smell! Fish and vomit and shit and body odor and rotten food. His skin was pasty with a green tint, and I could see blue veins popping up on his face and neck. For some reason Slappy came to mind, and I decided to check on him too. I exited the room and gave Jon some privacy.

On the main floor I encountered Tiff again, filled her in on Jon, and promised her I'd regulate the party if she wanted to keep him company. She thanked me, tried to kiss me, but her breath was awful too. Had she tried to make out with Jon? I turned my face and took it on the cheek, then tried to hustle back to the party. She stopped me. “Aaron, if I find out you've been smoking weed in my Dad's study like last time I'm going to kill you! He was soooooo mad last time!” I smiled, winked, then turned and headed towards the basement.

The number of kids here had swollen close to 75 or 80, but everyone was behaving. I hardly recognized anyone, damn costumes. I spotted a girl wearing a nun's habit. She was playing beer pong against James and Kelly, but she was doing really well. Surprisingly well. James was down to his last cup, but had only made two. I laughed to myself, not because he was losing, but because he was losing to the only girl who hadn't transformed herself into a total skank for Halloween. It was truly a sight to see: A girl with morals in a sea of midriffs, cleavage, and ass beating an alcoholic athlete at his own game.

I asked James if he'd seen Slappy or Rampy. He pointed at the corner.He refused to break his concentration, took a shot, and missed.

“FUCK! Romeo's over there...”

Rampy was still there, doing the same thing he had been. Sara was humping his leg. Is that dancing? Slut. The other was licking his face. He looked at me, his pupils were dinner plates and he grinned. I thumbs upped him, and asked Candace if the shnozzberries really tasted like shnozzberries. She stared at me with eyes that were almost black, confused. Clearly she didn't get the reference. I turned to James and interrupted Kelly, who was complaining about the liquor selection.

“Shut the fuck up Kelly, just drink. After a while does it even matter? Pull your panties out your ass, girl." I addressed James: "So have you seen Slap dick?” I told him what happened in the bathroom.

“What do you expect,” he joked, “No, not since we smoked.”

This worried me, and I went to go see if he was OK. I opened the hallway door, and sneaked inside. I staggered down the hall, feeling the effect of all that liquor I'd drank. I passed the study, smelled burning herb, and heard my friends teasing Ashley. They're good kids, really good friends. I got to the bathroom door, and tried it. This time it was open, but Slappy had left. The floor was covered in piss and vomit and blood and shit. “What did this fool drink? Acetone? Cologne? Fucking Listerine?” I thought to myself. The stench, the stench. Well, now I gotta go find Slappy. I couldn't live with myself if one of my best friends died from alcohol poisoning, especially if I could have done something about it. “He probably went somewhere to pass out. One of the bedrooms. I'll check there first. Worst case scenario is he wondered outside. No, no, he wouldn't do that. God, what the fuck did he drink?”

I strode back down to the study, informed the Ashley and the homies about Slappy's disappearance, and began my search. It didn't take long to find him. I followed the smell, rotten molecules fish-hooked my nose and painfully dragged me to two doors, side by side. One was locked, but I heard moaning and a rocking bed frame. Joker and cow girl slut. The other was open. I strolled in, found Slappy on the bed, and rolled him over. There was red vomit, blood, all over the floor and the white satin sheets.

With urgency I shouted,“Slappy....SLAPPY! Are you ok, man? Do you need to go to the hospital? Dude, you're throwing up blood.”

He looked at me, and whispered, “No, I drank cherry vodka with that bunny kid. It was red. I just need some rest and privacy.”

“Are you sure? Dude, it smells awful in here and the bathroom. What's up?”

“Dude....Aaron......dude. I'm just really gassy and nauseous. Could you bring me a trash can and leave me alone?”

I didn't feel comfortable leaving him, but he insisted over and over, so I got him a trashcan. He barfed into it, and I rubbed his back. My mom used to do that when I had stomach infections. I don't get stomach infections anymore. Alcoholic genocide, remember? Anyways, it always made me feel better. Slappy didn't say anything as he violently yurked and yurked. Finally, he told me to leave, he passionately begged me to leave. He said he was embarrassed, and that he had never been this sick from drinking before.

“I think it's probably just food poisoning...I had some sushi before this. Just go. Just go.”

He sounded more sober than he was when he left the study. Maybe he was alright and the chronic just had me feelin paranoid. I looked back at the vomit on the floor, and turned on the light. Slappy moaned, and covered his face with a pillow. It looked like blood to me. But who am I to say that? Slappy was probably right. I wished him luck, and closed the door. I stopped for a moment, and tried to remember what Slappy, Frank, and I ate for dinner. I thought it was Chipotle. I shrugged. The couple next door were going at it still. Their sex sounded crazy, the cow girl slut was wailing like a banshee. I pounded on the door a bunch of times to fuck around with them. They briefly stopped, but after 10 seconds they started again. These two were gumps, for sure.

Another group of guys entered into the hall. It was the Village People freaks.

“Hey, you guys aren't supposed to be in here. Tiffany's rules. Sorry.” I declared. I told Tiff I'd help her out, and I will.

“Sorry man, sorry, we're just looking for a place to blaze...” replied the cop. The others nodded their heads.

“We don't want to be smoking out in that main room...”

“Or outside...”

"Or upstairs..."

“Yeah, and who are you to be telling us what to do? You're back here too, asshole. You're costume's fucking stupid, B-T-W”

I glared at the construction worker, the piece of shit who had spoke up last. I was drunk and testy, my fists clenched and unclenched. Deep breaths, in and out, it helped me calm myself down. No need for violence tonight.

“These 3 rooms are occupied, and the shitter's a mess. Otherwise, you can smoke in the last guest bedroom. Don't make a mess.”

They thanked me, and walked past. My nose couldn't pick up the smell of reefer, so I figured they must be going to the room to blaze some weak dro, or gang bang each other. The construction worker passed me last. I grabbed his vest, and yanked him close to my face. He looked like a rat. Pointy nose, beady eyes, and he smelled rotten. He was smaller than me, and his friends were already in the room. I could hurt him if I wanted to.

“The hostess gave me permission to regulate. You gotta problem, well so do I. Shut the fuck up, and stop acting like hot shit or else you're gonna find yourself on your ass. Got it?”

He shook his head and I let go, “Only girls and fags use internet abbreviations in conversational speech, shit head”

He scurried away into the last guest room like the rodent he was, and I reentered the super-cool man cave. As I came in, everybody looked up with their glazed eyes redder than the devil's dick. That's what I wanted. That's where I wanted to be right now. Cloud nine, nirvana. Ashley looked baked, Frank looked cashed, Danky looked bombed, Mike looked cooked, and Salvatore, well Salvatore looked absolutely hilarious. All he could do was grin at me. His English wasn't that good yet, but his mannerisms and body language were so funny!

“Was that your first time smoking weed, Salvatore?” I asked.

He grinned. “No. Dos, my second time. I, uh, I like smoke the pot.” He fell backwards cracking up, rubbing his chest with his hands and snorting after each laugh. Everyone else started to giggle too. I swooped up the bong, grabbed my sack from the table, and loaded a big rip for myself. Consider it “catch up”. I torched the bowl and inhaled slowly, constantly. The smoke curled and twisted in the main chamber, percolating through the dirty bong water. For a second I had an “oh shit” moment as I saw how much the bong had filled up with smoke. It was yellow, I knew I was toast. Yellow bong smoke is harsh, filled with THC, and the total fucker of all weed smoke. I pulled the bowl like a pin on a grenade and air rushed through the bong, forcing the prior contents into my lungs. I cleared it, breathed a breath of fresh air, and held my breath. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi....all the way to ten. Exhale. Instant retardation. I felt prettay, prettay gumpy. Forrest gumpy. “Special”.

I swear to dog, I fucking coughed up a lung. I had to spit into the trash can. The rip was harsh, but don't blame me! I yam what I yam, a monster, animal, beast. For some reason the stoners on the couch thought this was hilarious. Mike almost cried, his body convulsed in laughter. I flipped them off, “What, never taken a big hit before? Fuckers.” I coughed more, and walked to the mini-bar. I poured another Grey Goose with Cranberry.

“Aaron, when are we going to eat those mushrooms?”

I looked at Ashley, drank a gulp of my drink, and coughed. My eyes were tearing up.

“Ummmm, hold on.” More coughs, I had to spit again.

“Well, it's only what, 9:45? The party is just starting. Let's wait till 10:30 or 11 unless you want to eat your half now.”

"No, that's fine...we'll nom on them later." I smiled at her, because who the hell says 'nom' instead of eat? It's kinda quirky and endearing. She's a cutie.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” interjected Frank, “Where'd you get shrooms from?”

“I smoked Rampy up, and he gave them to me...”

“Fucker!” he spat, “He showed me them and I tried to buy them off him. Fucker. I don't know where he got them, but they're the blue caps. The blue caps always have a shit ton of spores. Those are the best.” His brow creased and he frowned. “Will you share them with me?”

“Uh, yeah dog, you can definitely have some. The more the merrier, you know. That shit. Hey did anyone see Rampy with those two juniors?” I chuckled, “Those freaks have been hanging off him all night. They're trippin balls, on another plane of existence right now or something.”

Mike looked at Ashley, and blurted, “You're really hot, did you know I'm an underwear model? Internationally famous! Wanna go have a lovely time with me? Fuck that pumpkin bitch! I'll treat you like a woman.” He smirked at me and I punched him in the arm.

“OW! You fag, you didn't have to beat on me! This body is worth more than your life!” He rubbed his nipples, what a weirdo, right folks?

“Have some manners, Mike.” I retorted. “Don't be a goon to a girl you hardly know.”

Ashley got up, walked behind me, and started massaging my shoulders. I don't know why, I must have hit the right note there. Salvatore got up too, and joined her. We both gave him a weirded out look, but he didn't get it until Danky pulled his jacket and told him that he was being strange. Salvatore looked confused, but stopped and asked, "You no like?"

"Just let Ashley do it, in America we aren't so touchy touchy."

"Oh," he replied, "Excusey, excusey." He started to wonder around and inspect the awesome room we were in.

“Ah, the metal heavy music. This is the music I like, the metal heavy type. Fast guitar, yes?” He got to the book shelf, and started pulling books out. He'd thumb through one for a second, but he couldn't read the English so he'd put them back. He wasn't putting them back where he'd taken them out, though, and was making a mess. Danky made himself a strong drink from Tiff's dad's liquor, and sat down.

“Bowl?” He pulled his own weed, and we loaded half each. I felt pretty anti-social. I was hanging out with my friends and this sexy witch, but we were barricaded in a room in a hall that no one was even supposed to be in. If Tiffany came down she'd probably get mad and kick me out. Wouldn't be the first time, but hey, why risk it? As we finished the bowl I suggested we rejoin the party and go drink. “It's Halloween mothafuckas, let's get weird, wacky, crazy, let's go HAM.”

Salvatore looked at me while pulling out more books from the shelf, “I love ham.”

“Sal, it's an expression that means hard as a m....” I didn't get to finish my sentence. No one talked. Sal backed up from the suitcase, and pointed to a leather bound book. It wouldn't come out all the way, just far enough to where it was at a 45 degree angle in comparison to the bookshelf.

I made a pushing motion, and suggested that Sal try pushing the bookcase in. He didn't understand, and pulled. Nothing happened. Mike got up and tried pushing it. It gave. My jaw dropped, hit the floor, and stayed there. Down for the count. I glanced at my friends, who were all experiencing the same reaction. Stunned silence blanketed the room, and we could hear the party music again. I could hear my freakin' heart beat. I looked at Frank, who looked at Sal, who looked at Mike, who looked at Danky, who looked at Ashley, who looked at me. What. The. Fuck.

Frank finally spoke up, “Ummmm, Aaron? What...exactly does Tiffany's dad do for a living?”

I couldn't speak, I just stared ahead. Frank snapped his fingers in front of my eyes, his hands smelled like weed. I shook my head. I just couldn't believe this.

“Uh, I think he's a lawyer. I mean, I thought he was a lawyer. Um...I don't, I don't know what to say. What the fuck?”

“He's no fucking lawyer, dude. Do you see this shit?”

When Mike had pushed the bookcase something spectacular and crazy and a little scary happened. The whole bookcase had spun 180 degrees, revealing a hidden backside. The books were gone, replaced with a SHIT ton of guns. Pistols, silencers, and clips were on the left. Shotguns hung from racks in the middle, with boxes of shot resting on a shelf beneath them. There were assault rifles on the right. Banana Clips. Bandoleers. Grenades. Different knifes, gleaming in the overhead light of the man-cave. A machete, brass knuckles, and more guns. Holy shit. What the fuck. My thoughts flashed to Tiffany. I stood up, ran to the gun rack, and turned it back around so the books faced out again.

I surveyed my friends, all of whom had turned pasty. No one said a word. They just sat. My state of insobriety was making it hard to process this whole thing. What the fuck? Who has that many guns in their house, better yet, who HIDES that many guns in a house? Maybe he's a terrorist, yeah, Tiffany's dad is a terrorist. Idiot. A spy? Maybe, that's more likely. A mercenary? Another probability. My heart dropped into my stomach. Mafia? A hitman? Shit.

“Not a word about this, to anyone.” I was dead serious. “I don't know why these guns are here, but it can't be good for us to know. NOT ONE WORD. Mike, got it?”

He nodded, no one said anything. Grenades, really? A machete? This wasn't some run of the mill gun locker. This was some real shit, realer than real.

No one else said anything, no one needed to. We agreed that it wouldn't be discussed, hid the bong under the desk for later, and left. Immediately. I went to check on Slappy again, but he wasn't in the room anymore. It still wreaked, there was still vomit everywhere and somehow it had got on the walls too, but it seemed like he got a majority into the bucket I brought him. Still red, another 'what the fuck moment' for me. The ground was damp, and I noticed a trail of liquid leading from the room next door where the village people were. It was quiet in their room, and the door was locked. Maybe he tried to make it to the bathroom to pee or something and failed miserably.

“Weird,” I thought, and then followed my friends out of the hall, taking Ashley's hand in mine. He must be smoking with them to feel better. Normally hangovers don't come this quickly, they only surface for me the morning after, but I shrugged it off.

Everyone's bodies are different, you know.