The Friends, The Gun & The Hot Date

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
A surreal valentines and a prank gone right. My perfect little era was taking off

Submitted: November 20, 2015

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Submitted: November 20, 2015

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Valentine's 2014: The Friends, The Gun, & The Hot Date

 

Drew had reawakened the childish element that had drifted away from me. Everything we did now had a measure of immaturity attached to it. I loved it. Mid February was the first time since before the poisoning that there was no immediate threat to my health. At last, I was settling in an era where I could live full throttle again.

 

Valentine's Day was an unusual affair, because I ended up spending it with Reece Hayes. In all fairness, I had grown to despise the notion that you were forced to either fabricate an illusion of an amazing relationship and showcase it to the world, or, in desperate isolation, seek unwarranted and needless affection in order to conform to social ideals. Anyone whose anniversary is the 14th February, you're doomed.

 

"Let's go Chicagos." Reece persuaded.

 

Why not? Why not do anything and everything. I was healthy again. This is what I'd promised myself. With my health anything was attainable. Absolutely anything. I had to live for every second. Chicagos was a poor club, but fuck it, why not?

 

The club was partially full, and nearly all inside had their availability defined by a traffic light sticker system. Red for taken, green for single. Amber for..... Wait. What the fuck was Amber for? Cheating? Getting ready? Ambivalence. I didn't really know, and I definitely wasn't taken. I was free rather than single. Still, green best defined me. Green it would be.

 

Reece was falling into a category I'd just been criticising. The problem I had is that I was so full of belief in my system of beliefs that I simply didn't appreciate anyone else's. I'm not suggesting it's a good way to be. It's just how I was. Drew had vindicated me and that was good enough for me. If one person agreed, then it was correct. So for me, Reece's desperation was not something I respected.

 

"Pick two girls Tom, and go talk to them for us." Reece asked. Now, I was shy, and I was definitely not confident with women, but, what I did have was a re-established belief that anything was possible. I scouted around.

 

"Them." I pointed. "Those two." They were sat in the corner. Both were fairly pretty from our distance and I felt that if we were gonna talk to any two, then we might as well ensure they had the green sticker. They did. We walked over. Surprisingly to me, I lead.

 

Before I could open my mouth to make some sort of introduction, one of them leapt to their feet. 

 

"I know you." She alleged, and stood in front of me.

 

Did she now?

 

"You're Tom."

 

Yes, she did. I was Tom, but I wanted to know how she knew. As my mouth opened to request an answer, she provided the evidence of her knowledge.

 

"You're Carla's ex."

 

For fuck sake, was I going to be consistently defined by my past. Where was my present? I quickly shrugged off her label.

 

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about that." I pestered. Reece was laughing. He knew how sick I was of such a label. This was new era Tom, I didn't need the past to restrict me. 

 

Reece began to provoke more from me.

 

"Tom I wanna pull the one in green. Not Carla's mate. The other one." He stated, quietly and off to the side. As quiet as you could get in a club full of loud music.

 

"Who? Megan or Lizzie?" I confirmed with him.

 

"Yeah, Megan, the hotter one." He grinned.

 

How very Reece of Reece. But I decided if that was the agenda, then that's what we would do. I downed my drink, and stood chatting to the pair on the dance floor. Unfortunately for all concerned, all Lizzie wanted to do was radically slate Carla. I didn't want the conversation to drift that way. Not out of any respect for her, but because I was on a wingman mission here. Eventually, after much more alcohol, and an attempt at flirting, we were successful.

 

"We're leaving now." Sighed Lizzie. "But you're welcome to walk with us if you like."

 

Reece already had the door open for them, he needed no further persuasion. Reece tried his best to coax Megan into a one night stand, but it just wasn't happening for him. Lizzie still just wanted to slag Carla off.

 

"She's just such a weirdo and an attention seeker. She's always been like that. Everyone at school hated her." She alleged.

 

I knew that, I had suffered that. I had been at Lizzie's party with Carla when this Jordan guy had begun a tirade of abuse at her, and me, just for being with her. We'd only just walked through the door. Although I'd put him in his place a few moments after. He was never going to say anything to Carla again after I'd had a word with him. At least I'd done some good.

 

We got to Lizzie's house and a hug was all the pair of us had earned. The only success of the night was that my phone's pedometer informed me I had reached my goal of 10000 steps. The walk home was a long one.

 

The next night I stayed at Drews. I appreciated these group nights we had. Football was omnipresent, and beer was flowing. I was chatting away to Drew about the dating pranks I had pulled before, when suddenly I had a plan.

 

"Drew, I guarantee that in ten minutes, Snelly will come upstairs and will be so confused." I sniggered.

 

Drew looked confused but nodded. All the while he glanced at his door frame, I set about to work. I found a generic sexy girl picture and create a dating profile. The about me read as followed:

 

"Hey, I'm Snellina but everyone calls me Snelly for short. I'm up for a bit of anything, so give me a text some time." 

 

Then I included Snelly's mobile number. Then he appeared, phone in hand, at the door.

 

"What the fuck is going on?!" Snelly snapped. "I keep getting sent all these dick pictures to my phone. To sexy Snelly!"

 

Drew couldn't contain himself and cracked up. Then he looked at Snelly.

 

"Dunno Snell, that is weird, couldn't tell ya boy." He lied.

 

I begun to allow my smile to creep through. Drew took Snell's phone off him. Drew then ushered us in for a photo and told us to point and laugh, then he sent the photo to the men who'd sent their unwanted anatomy to us. They didn't often reply after that. I thought the whole thing was fucking hilarious.

 

Drew was similar to me, and he took complete control of Snelly's handset. Communicating back and forth with all Snelly's potential suitors, eventually he looked up and told us to get ready to go out.

 

"Why?" I asked.

 

"Just do it you eejit." He sarcastically threw.

 

I laced up my shoes, and waited in Drew's icy porch. I then saw him emerge from the staircase with what looked like a giant BB gun.

 

"Drew that looks like a giant BB gun." I stated.

 

"It is a giant BB gun Tom." He confirmed. Well, that would be why it looked like a giant BB gun.

 

"And what are gonna do with it Drew." I asked, pedantically.

 

"Shoot Matey's car up." He swiftly announced, and edged past me.

 

"Matey?!" I exclaimed. I was so confused. Who the fuck was matey?

 

As we neared the alley, Drew handed me what he dubbed his "blower". I read the texts between the fake Snell and the penis picture texter. He was coming to meet what he thought was sexy Snellina.

 

The real Snelly, was hammered. Drew, ever so sensibly, handed him the gun. Before long, a car neared, and slowed. Snelly emerged and produced a constant round of shots that John McClane would've feared. This poor fucker. Snelly was terrorising him. Literally. He drove off. That was that. Or was it?

 

Drew had lost himself in laughter again, and Snelly's phone rang away. The drive by victim, wasn't satisfied with just that. He wanted to meet Snellina still, just this time, in public. Drew arranged a pub meet the following day. I was cracking up at the whole affair, but before long my laughter was silenced. 

 

My phone, mirroring Snelly's, had begun to ring away with text after text after text. Unfortunately, this wasn't a fake person, or even a phallus photo, which I would've preferred. Instead it was Carla. News had filtered through of mine and Reece's night. But how the fuck did she know?!

 

"How the fuck do you know?" I text her.

 

"Reece." Came the reply.

 

How very Reece of Reece. I remember us chatting away on the long walk home and how Reece would do me a favour and get rid of my problem for me. He meant it. He'd told her everything. Fuck me, I didn't mean for him to heartlessly hurt her. She was unstable. There were better ways. She had not taken this well. Texting escalated to phone calls.

 

"Reece said you flirted and danced with Lizzie and Megan. Megan used to bully me for fuck sake." She wailed. Now, let's get something straight. I didn't dance, no way. In fact, I was about as good as flirting and Terry Connor was at football management. So this was an exaggeration. Oh, and how the fuck did I know that Megan bullied her. Why did every fucker she went to school with hate her so much?!

 

Drew looked wound up as I sat arguing on his sofa. I looked would up as I sat arguing on his sofa.

 

"I'm done Carla. I've let you have it your way. I haven't cut you off and abandoned you, but you won't let me have my life. I can't do anything without you scrutinising it!" I was livid.

 

"I'm going to kill myself." She shivered in between sentences.

 

"Oh bore off Carla. I'm sick of hearing it." I nonchalantly bellowed back. She became so loud that Drew could hear her.

 

"I'm going to kill myself, and I'm going to write a letter about what you've done, going off with my friends and my bullies. I'm going to tell my parents that it's your fault and you can live with that on your conscience. If you cut me off and block my number you will never hear from me again because I won't be here." 

 

Now, normally I understand these are empty threats born from desperation and frustration. But, Carla, her ailments and her OCD, it rendered her a different kettle of fish. She may just do that. Specifically if routine dictated it. I panicked.

 

"Don't do that. I won't cut you off." I lamented.

 

The conversation ended soon after. Drew, similar to me as always, gave me his opinion.

 

"What a cunt! What a sneaky dirty little cunt. Fuck her, now I'm actually getting angry. What a gobshite. Fuck her Tom. If she wants to kill herself then let her." Drew shook with rage. 

 

The night ended on a damper.

 

Sunday morning, and I tried to forget last nights bollocks. It was a great night until the end, and surely, with enough time, Carla would get over me. She would have to. I wasn't ever getting back with her. She was too destructive and I didn't love her. She was now just a thorn in the side of my new life. But then again, her going to Uni was going to change all that. She'd be living in London, and she'd meet some nice boy who was all about the relationship conventions she craved. Me and Drew chatted about that. I told him not to worry. She was bound to find someone else and I'd be free.

 

It was the evening now, and we sat in Flinty's car. Drew looked slightly agitated.

 

"You know what would've been great." He began. "If one of us went to meet this Snelly dating guy, and wore a woman's wig and pretend to be a transvestite or something. That would've been fucking great."

 

"I'll do it." I piped up.

 

Everyone stared at me.

 

"Fuck off Tom I'm serious. It would've been a right laugh." Drew battled.

 

"I am serious. My mum has a wig from a show she did. I will actually do it." I argued, desperately trying to convey how serious I was.

 

"Fuck off, you won't do that." He snarled.

 

"Flinty. Drive me to mine." I demanded.

 

Less than twenty minutes later and there was me, adorned in a long blonde wig. It was part of my new mantra. I was going to live life to the full, and I wanted it to be funny. That was my internal promise if I recovered from the poisoning. And I had recovered. I thrived off pranks like this. So there we were, in the pub. All three of Flinty, Drew and Snelly were stationed at different tables to film this.

 

First, matey boy sat down at the table that sexy Snell had agreed. He had Afro like curly teddy bear hair, and he sat with his drink in nervous agitation. Poor motherfucker had no idea what was waiting for him. He thought he was here to meet a stunner. Instead he was here to meet me, a 6ft man. In a wig. 

 

Everyone sat in wait, all poised for my arrival. A minute later, out strode me, tucking away my long blonde hair behind my ear. I sat opposite him and threw on my best girly voice.

 

"Are you my date?" I asked, knowing full well he was. "I'm sexy Snell." I whined.

 

The man shook his curly frizzy hair, stood up, walked to the bar, evaluated his situation, then downed his drink and left. I removed the wig and all four of us succumbed to laughter.

 

"Your a funny cunt." Snelly threw me the compliment I had desired for ages. I was coming back and racing up the league table. Much to Carla's dismay, new era Tom was afloat with brilliance. I loved this new life. I didn't want to return to her control. My group, my mentality, I had sought this for years. It was finally back. My renaissance was vibrantly fiery. Just like Gerrard, my years of exile were finally over, I was showing my true class, and the new boys around me were all supporting that cause. All I needed was to lose a stone, grab my degree and secure some money and I would be on course for my plans. But I wasn't going to let that compromise my social life. I looked at the photo on my phone of me, mouth agape, blonde locks framing my face. I was a funny cunt wasn't I.

 


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