The Night Steve Got Punched Four Times
Steve went to meet a friend in the pub before he went to Simon’s party, and he was listening to his friend tell Miacheal Jackson joke when he accidentally knock over the drink of the guy behind him. He did not just knock it over, he knocked all over guy’s crotch. Steve turned to apologise but before he could speak the words out of his mouth, the guy punched him right in the face. Lucky for Steve the guy had the wrists of a poet and his punch barely hurt or left a bruise.
He decided to leave the pub after that anyway, and told his friend he had to go because he was running late for Simon’s party. His friend did say anything but just nodded- he had not been invited to party as Simon was still angry at him for borrowing Eric Clapton cds and never returning them.
On way to party Steve bought little bottle of vodka which he drank on the tube. He was already drunk from spending most of afternoon in the pub, so by the time he got to the party he caould barely walk in a straight line. When he walked in he grabbed a beer then immediately noticed a hot girl in the corner.
He went up to her and began stroking her forearm lascjiviously. ‘Hey baby,’ he grinned, ‘you smell like sex!’ Then the grin vanished, replaced by the fist of a man who was punching him. It was the girls boyfriend. Steve walked away, then realised that his shoes were gone. He must have lost them on the way over, but where? He opened the can of beer, and as soon as he did a canadian guy started shouting at him to down it in one. Soon a small crowd had formed and all of them were chanting. Steve raised the can to his lips and made his best try.
Halfway through, Steve stopped and waited. He knew it was coming. Like the village festival when he was a child. he could hear it. He could smell it. Vomit flooded the floor and engulfed his be-socked feet.
He turned and looked Simon (remember – it was Simon’s party!) and Simon punched him square in the face. Steve nodded, with a hint of sadness, tinged with queesiness, and left. Just as the door slammed in his face he said ‘Simon – could you call me a cab?’ Simon called him something else beginning with ‘C’.
Three hours later, Steve had 3kg of water lodged in his woolen jumper. Finally a taxi stopped. Steve said he wanted to go to Shepard’s Bush. Was that OK? Yes. The taxi moved off, chigging along past midnight revelers.
‘Most punters ain’t as quiet as you’ the driver said.
‘Yeah, I had a bad night’ said Steve.
‘Don’t you have a story to tell? Everyone got a story, love aduck!’ said the driver.
‘Well…’ said Steve, remembering the joke he’s been told earlier that evening, ‘Michael Jackson goes weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!’
The taxo driver stopped the car with a squeel of his brakes and threw Steve out. ‘Michael Jackson’s dead, you cunt!’ he said as he leaned down and punched him.
And that’s the story of the night Steve got punched four times in the face by four different guys.
THE END
Rivka Jacobs
Fun and entertaining, as usual. Poor Steve! And there is some truth to the observation that bad stuff happens in clumps; like a cascade of events.
Reply
Suzi Rose
“Three hours later, Steve had 3kg of water lodged in his woolen jumper.” Brilliant!
Reply