Tilted Forum Project Discussion Community - View Single Post - Have yourself a Jerry-Springer Christmas…

clavus · 12-17-2004, 01:54 PM

I started to reply to Shani, but realized I was thread jacking. This is the thread for your fucked-up, bad-Santa stories. Here's mine -
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December 25 may or may not be the actual birth date of Jesus, but there is no doubt about the fact that it’s Mike’s birthday. The ledger at the county jail confirms the date and time he popped out of his incarcerated mother.

Mike was my best friend since first grade. After we graduated, we went to college hundreds of miles away from one another. And when we returned for Christmas break, we had a lot of catching up to do. When I say, “catching up” what I mean is “getting loaded and trying to get laid” This was especially true on his birthday.

I’m not sure how we escaped the clutches of our respective families on Christmas eve, but at midnight we found ourselves in a shitty little bar in the shitty little town we once called home. And we got shitty. I couldn’t drink enough to make anybody in the bar good looking, but Mike chatted up a 40-something red-head with big tits and tired eyes.

After we had a good buzz on, we tried to sneak back into my house to grab my marijuana. My 16-year-old sister caught us, and in exchange for her silence, we allowed her to come with us to get high. It gets a little fuzzy at this point, but somehow the three of us ended up at the home of the redhead.

At the time, it was hilarious. But in hindsight, it was Jerry-Springer-pathetic: My sister, who would later die from complications arising from heroin and late-term abortions, getting messy drunk and throwing up everywhere; Mike, who would soon become an alcoholic, falling into the Christmas tree, crushing presents; The redhead, coming onto a guy young enough to be her son.

In the early morning hours, we left Mike and the redhead. I smuggled my sister back home. She was too drunk to be quiet, and soon there were a lot of underwear-clad family members yelling and crying. I faded into the background, or maybe I just blacked out. I don’t know.

Nobody had a magical christmas morning.

I ran into the redhead’s son a few times over the next week, but I never said a word to him. I wonder where he was on Christmas Eve. Does he realize that my best friend fucked his mom?

12-17-2004, 01:54 PM	#1 (permalink)
clavus pow! Location: NorCal	Have yourself a Jerry-Springer Christmas… I started to reply to Shani, but realized I was thread jacking. This is the thread for your fucked-up, bad-Santa stories. Here's mine - ``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` December 25 may or may not be the actual birth date of Jesus, but there is no doubt about the fact that it’s Mike’s birthday. The ledger at the county jail confirms the date and time he popped out of his incarcerated mother. Mike was my best friend since first grade. After we graduated, we went to college hundreds of miles away from one another. And when we returned for Christmas break, we had a lot of catching up to do. When I say, “catching up” what I mean is “getting loaded and trying to get laid” This was especially true on his birthday. I’m not sure how we escaped the clutches of our respective families on Christmas eve, but at midnight we found ourselves in a shitty little bar in the shitty little town we once called home. And we got shitty. I couldn’t drink enough to make anybody in the bar good looking, but Mike chatted up a 40-something red-head with big tits and tired eyes. After we had a good buzz on, we tried to sneak back into my house to grab my marijuana. My 16-year-old sister caught us, and in exchange for her silence, we allowed her to come with us to get high. It gets a little fuzzy at this point, but somehow the three of us ended up at the home of the redhead. At the time, it was hilarious. But in hindsight, it was Jerry-Springer-pathetic: My sister, who would later die from complications arising from heroin and late-term abortions, getting messy drunk and throwing up everywhere; Mike, who would soon become an alcoholic, falling into the Christmas tree, crushing presents; The redhead, coming onto a guy young enough to be her son. In the early morning hours, we left Mike and the redhead. I smuggled my sister back home. She was too drunk to be quiet, and soon there were a lot of underwear-clad family members yelling and crying. I faded into the background, or maybe I just blacked out. I don’t know. Nobody had a magical christmas morning. I ran into the redhead’s son a few times over the next week, but I never said a word to him. I wonder where he was on Christmas Eve. Does he realize that my best friend fucked his mom? __________________ Ass, gas or grass. Nobody rides for free.