A pea:
In 1994, I was sent to Romania to teach Conversational English. I was sent over with my friend Mike, and, on discovering that being English was essentially your credit card to everything, proceeded to spend a lot of time getting completely fucking trashed.

However, we soon met a fellow Conversational English teacher. He was an American chap called Roger, and older than us - he was mid-40s to our early 20s. He took us under his wing, and thus we two became three.

One night we spent discussing the joy of weed, and soon became very hungry. We'd all been instructed independently to really, really not bother, as the penalties for being caught were very, very harsh.

Cue Roger telling us how his girlfriend was a nurse.

"So what?" we said, "That doesn't help matters at all."

"No no" rebutted he, "See, she's my age - that makes her a senior nurse. She's in charge of getting rid of all the class A pharmecuticals."

"That's nice" we said, "But still doesn't really help matters."

"Shall we go back to mine?" he said, as we all finished our drinks.

With nothing better to do, we did.

________


All I remember is Mike finding it terrifically funny. I was laughing, but I felt like I was locked inside myself, and was actually very, very frightened.

"WHAT ABOUT THIS?!" screamed Roger, his eyes bulging, his grin maniacal, and he slapped me, hard. Very hard. The only reason I knew it was very hard is because A) He'd pulled his hand right back, and B) when it had connected I'd seen the other side of the room.

"VAGABOND" they both shouted, "WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THAT?!"

I could not stop laughing. I could not, for the life of me, stop laughing. I was absolutely terrified locked inside my skull, and I could not stop laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing.

Now they were taking it in turns to slap me, occassionally screaming frantically at me to WAKE UP!

It took my friend and I an hour and a half to walk the five-minute journey back home that night, and thankfully we didn't encounter any police. Mike stayed awake all night watching me, but was nonplussed when I finally awoke, and needless to say went straight to bed.

It would be a long time before I mixed drinking and random pharmecuticals again.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 10:46, 2 replies)

Needles to say?

(The Luggage is haunted..., Fri 22 Jul 2011, 11:08, closed)

Don't be a prick.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 11:19, closed)