“Hey, you want to swing by Shayna’s place and pound some brews?”
“Uh, fuck yeah?”
Dave definitely did not want to go pay a visit to his roommate Jeff’s new girlfriend. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for the girl. She is, in fact, quite nice. But the prospect of wandering into a house full of screamingly drunk young women that treat anyone they don’t know as a potential date rapist wasn’t exactly Dave’s best vision of a quality drunk. Still, with a complete lack of money or booze aggravating a severe aversion to sobriety on a Thursday night, making the trek was his only choice.
“Sure, I’ll go,” said Dave, amused by the excited toddler look Jeff was peering through the door at him with. “But don’t fucking sell me out. I know that as soon as we get there, you’re going to run off with Shayna and leave me in that hell house creepily skulling beers in the corner by myself.”
“Shit, bro, it’s all good. I can’t really handle it either. We’ll just go sip on some CL smoothies and party, you know? Here, shotgun one of these with me, and we’ll roll,” he said.
A few hours later, after avoiding awkward conversation in the room full of intense women by spending most of the evening drinking beers as rapidly as possible without people questioning his mental stability, Dave stumbled out of the house in need of a pee. Knowing full well that asking a girl to use her bathroom will only make her angry and pissed off, he crossed over into the neighbors’ empty yard in search of a secluded bush.
The sudden lack of cheap beer filling his insides left an intense, debilitating hunger in Dave. With a credit card maxed out on discount whisky and jugs of wine, and nothing at home to look forward to aside from instant oatmeal and water, he decided to get creative. While the original house was full of people, the one he was blurrily staring at was dark and inviting. With a food-crazed courage unrivaled by even the poorest citizens of war-torn countries pushing him on, he peeked inside.
In his shitfaced state, testing the waters seemed like a good idea, so he hurled a few pennies into the dark kitchen. When the clinking didn’t arouse suspicion, he gave a few coughs. The silence held. With a skill that would pass even the worst of sobriety tests, he deftly bounced his way through to the refrigerator, ripping open the freezer.
“D?” he thought, reading the initials scrawled across packages of frozen Hot Pockets. “Must mean ‘Dave.’ Taste it, bitches.”
Furiously filling his arms with as many stolen frozen pastries as he could handle, he blasted out of the house. Somewhere, deep in his conscience, he knew full well that what he was doing was morally wrong. But, as has been proven innumerable times in the history of man, when a drunk wants to get something done, he goes and does it, whatever the cost or damage to others.
He carefully avoided the lights streaming into Shayna’s backyard, hopped the fence and rode his bike home.
A week later, after six undercooked Hot Pockets and one hellish shit, Dave got in line at the bookstore, where he saw Jeff’s girlfriend giving him a weird look. Remembering that he had told Jeff about the robbery, his pulse quickened as he instantly knew he had been burned. With Shayna across the room, he bolted for the exit, thinking he might escape the approaching interrogation with just a casual wave. But just as the door loomed, a cute girl popped out of nowhere, eyes burning wild.
“Hey! Aren’t you that guy who stole all my food out of my house?”
With 30 people staring at him in the crowded register line, and fearful of what the girl might throw at him, only pathetic stammering came out of his mouth.
“Uh, sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how that happened. Seriously, I’m sorry.”
“You know, it’s okay. I think it’s pretty funny that you were that desperate for munchies. I’m still wondering how you did it. Just don’t do it again!”
“Yeah, I, uh, don’t know. Sorry though.”
With more than a few people either giving him awkward glances or flat out laughing, he escaped as fast as possible, vowing to punch Jeff in the dick for giving him up.
Yet after a few hours, sitting in a discussion and trying to find quotes out of his unread reader that would impress the TA, Dave finally smiled. If only he knew the girl’s name. It was probably time to ask her out on a date.