Aug '14 *
Back in Fall of 2004, I spent an entire Saturday afternoon, and part of the night drinking large amounts of cheap vodka out amongst nature with my then best friend, Jeremy. Jeremy was a real good guy. A true friend. He never would have done anything to fuck me over, or ruin my buzz in any way. Atleast not on purpose. so, eventually, the time comes to call it a night. I ride with him on the way back to my house. Once we get there, it's obvious to the both of us that he's way too drunk to be driving all the way out to his place. Hell, he barely made it to my house. So, of course he can stay over to sleep it off. after all, what are friends for?
We go to my room, and chill on the couch, getting stoned & watching Terror Firmer. it doesn't take long for Mr. Lightweight to pass out on the couch. Looking back, I should have got his ass up immediately and made him go sleep on the couch in the den, but whatever, I thought. He looks comfortable. I don't mind if he sleeps in here. So, I just get myself a little higher, turn off Terror Firmer, and stumble on over to my bed and go right to sleep without a care in the world. And then IT happened!!
After about an hour of sleeping, I am awakened to the sound of wretching. I had left the tv on, so, I could kinda see across the room, but not incredibly well. It looked to me like Jeremy was vomiting. And he damn well was, too. But what is that he's vomiting in? It looks like my trash can. it must be. What else could it be? I woulda asked, but he passed back out soon thereafter. I'm in no condition to really care, anyway, so, I lay down and go back to sleep. Actually, I drifted in and out for probably another hour, give or take. At a point, I notice that my trash can is closer to my side of the room. So, I was mistaken. Jeremy was not vomiting in my trash can after all. That's Good... But then again, he WAS vomiting! I seen it!
So, what the hell was he vomiting in, then? And then it hit me! Almost my entire B-movie collection, which then consisted of about 40 or 50 vhs tapes, was sitting in a big box, right over there beside the couch. Unacceptable! No fucking way, I thought! There's just no way that could ever happen. I was in no shape to face such a cruel reality.
So, I didn't. I just laid there on my side, starring at this box across the room, trying like hell to either convince myself that it wasn't the same box that I had at first thought, or maybe he didn't really do what I saw him do. It had to be one or the other. The third option was too horrifying. My mind would simply not go there. I'm now in the middle of the biggest case of denial I've ever conjured up in my life.
So, after about another hour of doing that, I work up the guts to get back up, and make that long stagger across the room to see once and for all if my beloved B-movie collection is in fact covered in vodka, stomach acid, and half-digested pink hotdogs. And I'm still trashed enough to be rather confident that there's actually nothing to worry about. So, I don't even turn the light on. I just take one finger and touch one vhs cover in the open box to hopefully feel that it's totally dry, which would've been good enough for me. What I felt on my finger was cold, sticky, disgusting reality. My thick layer of denial had once and for all been shattered into a million pieces. Which was about the moment I smelled one of the worst smells I've ever smelled in my goddamned life. I then run out of my room and into the bathroom to vomit, and of course to wash my finger.
So, at this point, I'm basically having my first ever drunken panic attack. I go back in my room and turn the light on and just stand there, unable to move, starring a hole through this passed out sonofabitch. I was sort of in a trance. A rage-trance, if you will. I'm about a second away from waking my now former best friend up by kicking him in the stomach. I honestly came very close to doing that. I'm Glad I didn't because after I called out his name to wake him up, he informed me that he suspected alcohol poisoning, and that he really had no idea what he had done. He really thought it was a trash can. Which was totally believeable considering how much he had drank.
So, on top of everything else, I now feel like I can't get too terribly pissed about this tragic turn of events because this guy is in a great deal of pain. So, who the hell can I be mad at? I do need him to atleast try to clean my beloved tapes. So, I just calmly explain what had happened a couple hours ago, and while he seemed very sorry, there was just no way he was in any condition to do anything about this. And really, neither was I. Being in the same room with that smell was awful. I just wanted to go pass out so I could forget I was ever born. So, I picked up the box, carried it to the garage. Ran back to my room and went right to sleep. because all I wanted was to stop knowing about this for a while.
After however many hours of sleep, I get my hungover pal up bright and not-so early. It's time to start cleaning. So, we cleaned the damn things best we could. That's right. I actually helped the dickless cunt. I hadn't actually looked at the damage that had been caused until this point. As you can imagine, alot of the covers were unsalvageable. But even 12 years later, some of the tapes still have puke stains on them. And to my surprise, only 3 tapes were unplayable. Basket Case, Dawn Of The Dead, and The Town That Dreaded Sundown, Which I still haven't gotten around to replacing, by the way. Being the fair man that he was, my buddy would replace the 3 movies with 3 more the following weekend when we went out to the flea market. So, atleast there's that. Werewolves On Wheels, Class Reunion Massacre, and Blood Freak was what I would end up choosing. And finally, I felt better about the situation, as we had one helluva stoned triple-feature that afternoon/evening. Almost making up for the mental anguish he had caused... Almost!
Moral of the story: If you value your movie collection, regardless of what format, don't be an idiot. put them on shelves, for fuck's sake!
And the film adaptation, starring and directed by Box_a_Hair.
Back in Fall of 2004, I spent an entire Saturday afternoon, and part of the night drinking large amounts of cheap vodka out amongst nature with my then best friend, Jeremy. Jeremy was a real good guy. A true friend. He never would have done anything to fuck me over, or ruin my buzz in any way. Atleast not on purpose. so, eventually, the time comes to call it a night. I ride with him on the way back to my house. Once we get there, it's obvious to the both of us that he's way too drunk to be driving all the way out to his place. Hell, he barely made it to my house. So, of course he can stay over to sleep it off. after all, what are friends for?
We go to my room, and chill on the couch, getting stoned & watching Terror Firmer. it doesn't take long for Mr. Lightweight to pass out on the couch. Looking back, I should have got his ass up immediately and made him go sleep on the couch in the den, but whatever, I thought. He looks comfortable. I don't mind if he sleeps in here. So, I just get myself a little higher, turn off Terror Firmer, and stumble on over to my bed and go right to sleep without a care in the world. And then IT happened!!
After about an hour of sleeping, I am awakened to the sound of wretching. I had left the tv on, so, I could kinda see across the room, but not incredibly well. It looked to me like Jeremy was vomiting. And he damn well was, too. But what is that he's vomiting in? It looks like my trash can. it must be. What else could it be? I woulda asked, but he passed back out soon thereafter. I'm in no condition to really care, anyway, so, I lay down and go back to sleep. Actually, I drifted in and out for probably another hour, give or take. At a point, I notice that my trash can is closer to my side of the room. So, I was mistaken. Jeremy was not vomiting in my trash can after all. That's Good... But then again, he WAS vomiting! I seen it!
So, what the hell was he vomiting in, then? And then it hit me! Almost my entire B-movie collection, which then consisted of about 40 or 50 vhs tapes, was sitting in a big box, right over there beside the couch. Unacceptable! No fucking way, I thought! There's just no way that could ever happen. I was in no shape to face such a cruel reality.
So, I didn't. I just laid there on my side, starring at this box across the room, trying like hell to either convince myself that it wasn't the same box that I had at first thought, or maybe he didn't really do what I saw him do. It had to be one or the other. The third option was too horrifying. My mind would simply not go there. I'm now in the middle of the biggest case of denial I've ever conjured up in my life.
So, after about another hour of doing that, I work up the guts to get back up, and make that long stagger across the room to see once and for all if my beloved B-movie collection is in fact covered in vodka, stomach acid, and half-digested pink hotdogs. And I'm still trashed enough to be rather confident that there's actually nothing to worry about. So, I don't even turn the light on. I just take one finger and touch one vhs cover in the open box to hopefully feel that it's totally dry, which would've been good enough for me. What I felt on my finger was cold, sticky, disgusting reality. My thick layer of denial had once and for all been shattered into a million pieces. Which was about the moment I smelled one of the worst smells I've ever smelled in my goddamned life. I then run out of my room and into the bathroom to vomit, and of course to wash my finger.
So, at this point, I'm basically having my first ever drunken panic attack. I go back in my room and turn the light on and just stand there, unable to move, starring a hole through this passed out sonofabitch. I was sort of in a trance. A rage-trance, if you will. I'm about a second away from waking my now former best friend up by kicking him in the stomach. I honestly came very close to doing that. I'm Glad I didn't because after I called out his name to wake him up, he informed me that he suspected alcohol poisoning, and that he really had no idea what he had done. He really thought it was a trash can. Which was totally believeable considering how much he had drank.
So, on top of everything else, I now feel like I can't get too terribly pissed about this tragic turn of events because this guy is in a great deal of pain. So, who the hell can I be mad at? I do need him to atleast try to clean my beloved tapes. So, I just calmly explain what had happened a couple hours ago, and while he seemed very sorry, there was just no way he was in any condition to do anything about this. And really, neither was I. Being in the same room with that smell was awful. I just wanted to go pass out so I could forget I was ever born. So, I picked up the box, carried it to the garage. Ran back to my room and went right to sleep. because all I wanted was to stop knowing about this for a while.
After however many hours of sleep, I get my hungover pal up bright and not-so early. It's time to start cleaning. So, we cleaned the damn things best we could. That's right. I actually helped the dickless cunt. I hadn't actually looked at the damage that had been caused until this point. As you can imagine, alot of the covers were unsalvageable. But even 12 years later, some of the tapes still have puke stains on them. And to my surprise, only 3 tapes were unplayable. Basket Case, Dawn Of The Dead, and The Town That Dreaded Sundown, Which I still haven't gotten around to replacing, by the way. Being the fair man that he was, my buddy would replace the 3 movies with 3 more the following weekend when we went out to the flea market. So, atleast there's that. Werewolves On Wheels, Class Reunion Massacre, and Blood Freak was what I would end up choosing. And finally, I felt better about the situation, as we had one helluva stoned triple-feature that afternoon/evening. Almost making up for the mental anguish he had caused... Almost!
Moral of the story: If you value your movie collection, regardless of what format, don't be an idiot. put them on shelves, for fuck's sake!
And the film adaptation, starring and directed by Box_a_Hair.
This was insanely entertaining, although I'm sorry to hear Basket Case and Dawn of the Dead got ruined (never cared much for the Town that Dreaded Sundown tbh). I would've made the bastard drive himself home after that
Fuad's little movie was pretty amazing too.