I once went to a bachelor party where a handful of us sat around drinking the gifts we received for being a part of the wedding. The groom's friend from the old days (who shall remain nameless) kept pouring Jim Beam into the white plastic cap off the Jim Beam bottle and throwing back cap-sized shots. He also occasionally would shame one of us to have one of his cap shots.
Quickly, he got drunker than anyone else there and began spinning some yarns. At some point, as I recall, he got onto the subject of women. The memory is faded now, but there seemed to be a lot of elbowing Allan and saying, "Remember that one chick with the big cans? Remember her! You gotta remember that one!"
Then came the story of the biker rally. Again, some details are fuzzy. Others are seared into my brain. Well, Jim Beam won himself the attentions of a certain biker lady who may have actually been there with her husband. Then she more or less attacked Jim and they started making out. From there, the story got more and more detailed. Soon they were both disrobed in a tent at one point. When she removed her bra, she revealed a tatoo of a panther on one of her breasts. The panther appeared to be clawing at her skin, which Jim found to be the height of eroticism.
Sexual acts and positions were described. One would think that this sort of braggadocio would focus solely on the proudest moments of the exploit. Not so. Soon they were in a public shower of some sort at the campgrounds, and Jim was so drunk that he had trouble getting aroused. The panther lady had to take some additional measures to complete the act of coitus.
It's kind of funny how comfortable some guys can be reliving every last, tawdry detail for a group of other guys, especially when intoxicated. It's also funny how uncomfortable some guys can get learning such intimate information about their buddies.
2 comments:
You are such a square, Martin!
I was there! And I didn't feel like Jim was bragging, I felt like he was letting us into the inner workings of his soul. These were the moments that made Jim's life worth living! And frankly, be it through charity work or the quest for fine art, we are all looking for that "Panther Chick" who will make us feel our life has been well spent. So, huzzah, Jim! Huzzah for finding a purpose for life! You've beaten old Kierkegaard at the philosophy game!
Perhaps old Jim could have titled his story "Johannas Climaxus" or "Concluding Uncensored Postscript". Sadly, I doubt old Soren ever had any thoughts on drunken liasons with married biker chicks. He probably would have written less if he did.
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