It’s Sunday and that can only mean one thing… you’re probably stoned and watching some combination of FOX cartoons and HBO original series. Now, while that may be true, Sundays are also for Worst Hookups.com, and we have another bonerific tale for you tonight. Check it out…
I hope everyone can agree with me that freshmen year is when people begin to build their portfolio of hookups, both good and bad. While I definitely had my share of commendable voyages down the River of Poon, I also had my share of unfortunate experiences. This time, what started as a vagtastic victory turned into a nightmare.
So while I was downtown crushing brews with some of my friends, I decided it was time to set my focus on crushing box. I adjusted my scope and shifted my attention to getting some serious strange. After eyeing all of the potential candidates, and there were definitely some contenders, I narrowed my search down to Chrissy. She was a strong candidate and a worthy adversary, but I knew she would be the slam piece (the S.P.). After long enough of my blitzkrieg of shots and throwing my best ‘I don’t give a fuck’ game at her, she relented and RSVP-ed yes to “hang out” in my dorm room. Upon arrival to my room, we began exchanging the customary sexual greetings and eventually I persuaded this brave young lady to accompany me my bed. In my dorm room, the beds were lofted high as all hell so that bros like me could act like they were boning on top of Mt. Everest. Climbing up to my loft shit-faced was no easy feat, especially when you have to spot a drunken chick with dick on the brain from behind as she climbs up the ladder. But once we reached the peak we were prepared to perform the no-pants dance… And that is when the blackness from tequila and bourbon shots began to take over.
BANG! BANG! BANG! “It’s the Police! Open Up,” jolted me awake from my drunken coma — ass naked. As I gathered myself and processed the WTF is going on around me, I notice that the S.P. was not laying next to me. Instead, she was passed out face down on my futon… whatever maybe she likes sleeping alone? I threw myself from my loft like a nude Navy Seal, put on some boxers, and answered the door to two police officers and my R.A. standing above a pool of blood. I then noticed a river of blood going all the way back and forth down the hallway and leading directly to my door. Officer Douchebag began the Inquisition and noticed the S.P. was passed out and appeared to be dead on the futon. The officer asked me to wake her up so that he could talk to her. When she rolled over her face looked like she had just been on a date with O.J. Simpson. She was covered in blood and her eyes were bulging like Rocky after facing Apollo Creed. Immediately the officers pulled me outside with the R.A. and began questioning me about what had occurred last night. I told them about our sexual exploits and that I had nothing but good intentions (well kind of). Of course Officer Jizz Stain and Officer Douchebag rationed that I must have beaten the S.P. and began attempting to make me confess to domestic assault. “She make you mad?… You give her a smack to put her in her place? You like it rough boy?”(I think the police officers were getting turned on by each other). I really had no idea what happened and all I could think was, “did I go Chris Brown on this chick in my sleep?”
Eventually the S.P. woke up and explained that she apparently had a problem with sleep walking. So it turns out she fell out of my lofted bed and fell 8 feet to the floor, smashing her face. Incredibly, even though she had bashed her face in, she did not wake up and actually began wandering the halls of my dorm like a whore from the living dead. Fortunately the S.P. decided not to press charges, and hopefully she won’t after she reads this story.
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