Totally Wrecked From Having a Ball
One never knows where they'll wind up when they are drunl
Too much booze and you lose all sense of your surroundings
Totally wrecked from having a ball.
We both tumbled home
like two huge, wrecking balls
let loose on a swinging chain
of fools drunkenly woven .
We couldn't in any way
drive and there wasn't any taxi
that would pick up such
a sotted pair without barf bags
in his backseat which we
would probably miss anyway.
We had been soundly bounced
out by the door guard due to
the volume of our voices and
the staggering we did
into other folks tables.
We were spilling drinks
everywhere on our zig-zag
paths to the men's room.
needless to say we were
no longer welcome among
all of those patrons.
I watered several trees
and then set off several
way too, sensitive car alarms
and kissed a beagle on the loose.
He howled rather loudly
at my over affectionate act
and my buddy and I joined in.
at least until seven porch lights
lit up the night and we
beat feet out of there.
Soon enough I stumbled
over the vert welcomed
door mat which turned out
to be my girlfriend,
who had left the bar two
hours before we did.
She was passed out cold,
on my front step and
she was quite lovely in repose.
We picked her up and fumbled
with the uneeded, key ring,
and then staggered in a trio
through the door, which surprisingly
enough had been left opened?
I got her to the couch which
was designer, but the room
was very dark so who would know,
and then I bumbled over
to a wide recliner
and went comatose
My buddy wound up somewhere
on the floor, hell I don't know?
We woke up the next morn to
someone screaming,
the shrillness of it still
echoes in my ears.
Like ten cats run over
by a steamroller.
I wasn't far off in my analogy .
A panicked, fat lady
in curlers and freshly installed
hearing aids, after she had
awakened from her not so
beautiful sleep, found us
three strange folks sprawled
in her living room..
She then grabbed a skillet from
her kitchen and she
was looking to
get us even more
woozy in our heads
then the night before.
We booked out the back door,
this time not stumbling,
even though our apologies did.
The townhouses we lived in
were quite a bit alike, so much
so that my girl, my friend, and I
each confused them, and almost
got hauled in for a B.+ E.
We all had a few laughs about it
later over the hair of
the dog that bit us.
So now I've put a sign up on my
doorway that says,
"If you can read this,
you are home."
cause Saturday's my only
night for drinking and carousing.
This way my neighbors can all sleep
in peace, and I'll stay hungover
my own damned commode.
© 2009 Matthew Frederick Blowers III