A year ago, my friends and well not me neccasirly, got drunk...i had to watch over the freakin idiots. But to the point, they all took 5 shots of southern comfort (just so you know) except for one very small friend of mine in which i won't name, starts with a "J", had only taken 3 shots. Now considering i guess on my knowledge that since he was so skinny that he couldn't very well take it.
J" was tumbling all around the place; calling all the group the most ridiclious names and then after two hours of non stop chattering he went into the "savage" mode as he called it. And so he called out three of the people there to fight, including myself. He tried to take us all on at once but got the sense beat into him. After the halrious beating, for it wasn't neccasirly a beating but a lesson, as the little friend was very, very weak.
The fight went on until he was thrown onto a pile of rocks where J muttered "Ima gonna cut you all!" But we all cleary knew that he didn't bring his trusty pocket knief. And so we just watched as he searched for his knief, screaming "Where my knief at?"
so after he passed out onto the pile of rocks, following one of my old friend named "D" throwing a battery, yes a battery square first on the forehead. It left a nasty bruise after and J" as i will call him went into a nasty little seizure.
Afterwards my other friend kept badgering on and on about J's misfortune saying
"At least that wasn't me!" but little did he know that later on in the year to come, he would fall victim to his drunk moment, face first in a puddle of his own puke. Karma hurts...