One of the Pack
432
I didn’t quite understand how the idea of a pub crawl came to us, or how such a simple thing could bring a bunch of guys like us together so closely, but I enjoyed it all the same. Different bar, different drink, different set of people; how could we protest to such an evening out? Even the slurred songs with their out of tune notes rattled about in my head hours after we had settled down on one of the lad’s living room floors. It kept me awake, but I couldn’t give a damn, I was so content.
The following morning obviously started with a chorus of groaning and clutching of heads as one by one we woke, grinning every now and then at a vague blurred memory returning.
I was a regular guy – one of a pack. Finally accepted by this group of drunkards.
There was nothing in the kitchen cupboards, much to our growling stomachs’ disappointments, so we sat around drinking the leftover beers in an attempt to drown out the sound of exploding machinery in our heads. It didn’t work to the extent we hoped. But it helped a little.
A few grimaces and we began to talk with slightly more ease than before, starting the conversation with one guy exclaiming “my girlfriend’s going to kill me.” I grinned to myself as the topic arose, even more so as we went round the breakfast table saying if we were tied down by some girl somewhere. It came to my turn and a few bleary eyes squinted at me in their desperate attempt at concentration. How were they to know? Poor fools. Shame they got taken down for it too, eh my love? They didn’t know anything about us, but those fat pigs didn’t care. No they did not. Accused them of helping me! As if we needed help.
I told them about you - about how I had first met you. The reaction you first gave to my forward approach and charming wit. They didn’t need to know in great detail how hard you played to get, let alone the restraining order. In fact they didn’t need to know much more than a name. As much as the guys had bonded with me, they didn’t care all too much.
A silence fell over the table and I allowed my eyes to roll back into my skull, reminiscing about our one time together; about how you were the kinkiest bitch I’ve ever laid eyes on; about how much blood you lost just to please me.
I grinned widely to myself.
The following morning obviously started with a chorus of groaning and clutching of heads as one by one we woke, grinning every now and then at a vague blurred memory returning.
I was a regular guy – one of a pack. Finally accepted by this group of drunkards.
There was nothing in the kitchen cupboards, much to our growling stomachs’ disappointments, so we sat around drinking the leftover beers in an attempt to drown out the sound of exploding machinery in our heads. It didn’t work to the extent we hoped. But it helped a little.
A few grimaces and we began to talk with slightly more ease than before, starting the conversation with one guy exclaiming “my girlfriend’s going to kill me.” I grinned to myself as the topic arose, even more so as we went round the breakfast table saying if we were tied down by some girl somewhere. It came to my turn and a few bleary eyes squinted at me in their desperate attempt at concentration. How were they to know? Poor fools. Shame they got taken down for it too, eh my love? They didn’t know anything about us, but those fat pigs didn’t care. No they did not. Accused them of helping me! As if we needed help.
I told them about you - about how I had first met you. The reaction you first gave to my forward approach and charming wit. They didn’t need to know in great detail how hard you played to get, let alone the restraining order. In fact they didn’t need to know much more than a name. As much as the guys had bonded with me, they didn’t care all too much.
A silence fell over the table and I allowed my eyes to roll back into my skull, reminiscing about our one time together; about how you were the kinkiest bitch I’ve ever laid eyes on; about how much blood you lost just to please me.
I grinned widely to myself.