Rum, religion and burning furniture don't mix ...

We had one of those unplanned get-togethers last night … myself & E with Ken and Rachel, Stepek and Julie and that weird friend of hers with the freaky eyelids. It was one of those nights which wasn’t going to happen but ended up being such a good laugh, mostly at Stepek’s expense, but that was allowable. Ken was on form, E was snuggled up next to me all night and Rachel was, as ever, about as much fun as a tax collecting insect. But what the hell, right? At some point, Stepek brought up the story of the time we had a Jesus pusher in the apartment me, Ken and him shared in the upper west side. It was one of those afternoons when we were all trashed before 2. We only let him in for our own amusement but it totally backfired on us because once we ran out of sarcastic questions we couldn’t get the bastard to leave.

 

He'd been there for over two hours, no amount of hinting would get through. The three of finally convened in the kitchen and discussed several methods to eject the idiot until eventually I lost control of myself and ran through to the lounge where he sat and told him we all had to get out because the kitchen was on fire … but still he wouldn’t budge, he just stretched his neck a little, drummed his fingers on his Book and look uninterested. So the next thing is Hutch and Stepek, fully rummed-up, actually set fire to a leg of one of the wooden kitchen chairs using lighter fluid and newspaper and then Hutch goes running through to the lounge, yelling like a maniac, shouting at the guy that we were all going to hell, smoke filling every corner, while Stepek stood menacingly in the doorway, sucking on the end of a whipped cream can then closing his eyes and letting the cream ooze from his mouth and onto the floor.

After extinguishing the chair in the shower, Ken spent the rest of the evening in a state of nervous exhaustion, and masochistic guilt. Poor guy. He is, in fact, as religious as they come.

 

Anyway, yeah … a good night for once.