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by dex


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When I was fourteen, I went to a house party at a friend's. I was a responsible drunk teenager, my mother knew I drank, hated it, but accepted that it was either that or early pregnancy, I suppose. I would always get a ride home with a designated driver, always.

Rule of the house was be home before she got up for work. This was usually accomplished.

It's 4:50 in the morning, I'm so drunk that I'm supporting my body by sliding along a wall, looking for my ride. I go from room to room, mumbling "Mike...Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiike???" Still no Mike. I at one point think I have found him, and half trot half fall along the wall. Little did I know that the door to my friend's youngest sister's bedroom was open, and I fell inside.

I then took a nap.

I wake up at 5:12, I'm confused. I crawl around, stumble out into the hall, slide some more. I ask the only other conscious person in the room if they know where Mike is. Mike left nearly 2 hours ago.

Thanks for telling me Mike!

Anyway. I decide that I'm going to walk home.

This in retrospect was a terrible idea. I knew where I was, I knew where my house was, and I even knew how to get from point a to point b. I was also unable to walk without the assistance of a wall. This didn't matter though, home before Mommy awoke!

So, off I went on a great adventure two miles through the east side of Las Vegas, at five in the morning. This is no problem, so far, I'm wandering down the middle of residential streets, practicing how not to puke. Deciding that even though I really wanted to puke, I was really hungry as well. This comes into play later.

About a quarter of a mile from our humble abode, there is an Albertson's (grocery store) this Albertson's is magical, something they do not have in the midwest. A 24 hour grocery store!!! This is the part where a vast beacon of light shoots up from the top, and angels sing heavenly notes of joy.

In case you missed that.

I was starving. My stomach was making sounds like a wookie, and it was too much to just go home and eat then. I enter the store, get a couple suspicious looks from the two old lady cashiers, but I pay them no mind, I'm on a holy mission. I saunter through the aisles, deciding that while fish sticks sound fantastic! I couldn't exactly cook them at the customer service counter. So I continue my expedition. After what seems like the worst 5 minutes of my life, I come to the baking aisle, when I see what I've apparently wanted to eat my entire life.

Marshmallow Fluff.

I wander to the front, purchase my salvation and continue my trek home. I get it open, still walking, and realizing I do not have a spoon. This is the point where I determine that the only logical course of action is to use my hand.

So, at 6 in the morning on Eastern Avenue, I am walking down the street eating marshmallow fluff while being obviously intoxicated. It's pretty windy out, I'm pushing my hair out of my face, itching my nose, eating more fluff. To say the least, I was fine and dandy.

The short distance goes pretty much uneventfully, until I get home.

Oh, home sweet home.

I lived in a pretty sub-standard portion of town, with 12 foot security fences... to secure things. My mother being agitated that I never came home has locked the security gate on her way to work. Poor mom, I did so much to her.

Most people would have called their parents, went to a friends, gone to the neighbors who were awake, and had the key... but no. I decided to climb the fence. Now, this fence, I have climbed many a time sober, drunk, and a number of other adjectives. But I'd never done it with Marshmallow fluff before.

I couldn't just leave it on the sidewalk, it was so delicious. It was so fantastic! So I climbed the great wall, and successfully make it to the top, and I'm sure you know what happens next. I'll tell you anyway.

Upon reaching the top I do a little victory dance, where I raised my hands above my head, and jiggled. This jiggle, is what caused me to fall. I fell face forward, marshmallow fluff leaving my hand, slamming into the ground below and shattering.

If only I had had a similar fate. My legs were straddling the fence, and when I fell over, my thigh got caught on the top of the chain linked fence, cutting me, causing me to whoosh forward at an accelerated rate, slamming my knee into my chest, and after falling rather gracefully head first into the grass below, catching my foot in the fence for a moment.

Where I completed my descent.

Now, I don't want you to think that I was broken. I was too drunk to sustain real damages, I suppose. I only had a 4 inch cut to my left arm, a 2 inch cut on my thigh, and bruises about everywhere else.
Whatever, I was sleepy, drunk, and sad that my marshmallow fluff had blood in it.

I get inside. Go to bed. Sleep.

Until 7:00pm when my mother arrived home to find me covered in blood, with what appeared to be semen all over my face, in my hair, on my arms, and probably places I don't even remember. She was screaming, so loud.

I woke up, sat bolt up right, which caused her to scream even more. In an effort to comfort her, I say "Mommy, it's okay.. it was just fluff, I'll clean it off later."

I don't think she'll ever forgive me, but as I think back on the events of that 2 hourish period, that was the best fluff I have ever eaten in my entire life.