The night went on like that. Drinkin’ and High fivin’ and taking talking and planning breaks to watch the commercial with the big busted lady come on, which happened about once every thirty minutes. At this point, they’re not even paying attention to the sportsball. Just yakkin’ and exclaiming when the woman would inevitably show her cleavage and hold something in front of it. Troy and Cleveland still weren’t even sure what the commercial was about, but boy howdy, it was the fukkin’ best. During their night of festivities, Troy had refilled the cooler three times, and it was truly amazing how much piss went into the hallway toilet that night, not to mention how much of the floor next to the toilet was sprinkled with pee droplets come morning.
The sportsball was over and the talking head took over who were now just talking about what had just happened, as if you didn’t see it. Cleveland is leaned way over on the couch with one eye drooping while Troy just seemed to be more energized by the massive amount of beer he had consumed. He was currently trying to cook a massive meal in the kitchen, just to prove to a skeptical Cleveland that he knew how to make a pie from scratch. A smoke alarm goes off in the kitchen and that gets Cleveland to moving finally. He stands up and stretches, then ambles into the kitchen to tell Troy that he’s a little bitch and can’t make pie for shit, and also that he’s leaving.
Troy is waving a dish rag in the general vicinity of the offending smoke alarm, but it’s not really working, just encouraging the smoke to explore other corners of the kitchen. Cleveland says “you have to, fukkin’ open a window or something you dipshit.” Troy keeps waving the towel “no way man, this is the way to do it, you open the windows and, that like, causes a draft or some shit, get you sick right quick.” Cleveland watches this display with drunken amusement. “I gotta skeet” Cleveland says “gotta skeet right on out the door, I’ve had like, fourteen beers or something, fifteen beers, I don’t want a pie any more.” Troy holds up both of his hands in triumph “I fukkin’ knew it! You’re a little bitch and you have to go home now, can’t even drink the whole night through like you said.” Cleveland doesn’t remember saying that. “If you want to leave, you have to tell me that I can make the best pie in the whole world. Best fukkin’ pie in the world like how my mom showed me how.” Cleveland gets it over with, drunkenly saying that it smells great and pies are probably supposed to catch on fire. then he makes his exit. Troy yells from the kitchen as Cleveland starts walking out the door, “hit some dogs on the way home for me!”
Cleveland smiles crookedly as he tries to find the button on his key fob that opens his car. It’s dark outside, so he puts the fob right up to his eye and hits one of the buttons. His trunk pops open. “Fukkin’...” He walks to the back of the car and slams it closed, puts the fob back up to his eye and hits the right button. Beep Boop, the car unlocks, Cleveland gets in, and drives over the curb and into the night.
The next day Troy wakes up with a hangover on his couch. He stumbles to the kitchen to find a blackened pie tin sitting on his flour covered counter with some sort of caked on remains inside. there’s a spoon next to it. “What the fuck?” He is genuinely surprised “did I make a fukkin’ pie last night?” He leans in closer to the pie tin. It looks like scoops have been taken out of it. “And I ate some of it. Of course I did. Fukkin’ Cleveland.” Troy still feels slightly tipsy, but he can tell this is going to shortly progress into a bing banger of a hangover. Hershey squirts and everything. He takes the last beer from the cooler, now laying on its side next to the couch and pops it open. He gets a whiff of the warm tangy cheap shit and it almost makes him barf right then and there, all over his coffee table and couch, but he plugs his nose and pretends that it’s just water, just water. It makes him feel a little better.
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He belches while peeking out through the curtains. “Well, looks like that bastard went on a little cruise without me. Fukkin’ Cleveland.” Troy sits on the couch and flicks on the tube while still working on his beer. Not much to do today. Checklist: nurse hangover, sit on the couch, throw away the burned pie. That’s it. Two out of three done already. He thumbs through his phone, checkin’ out the news, clicking on the pop ups of ladies in his area with big tits that want to meet up right away, but they always lead to some kind of redirect to something he has to pay for. Troy doesn’t pay for nothin’ if he can get it for free. His phone buzzes with a text. It’s Cleveland.
‘Hey fucktard, I take it back, you suck at making pie lol’
Troy responds ‘suck on this’ and sends a GIF of a dog taking a shit. Troy is pleased with himself. His phone is chiming now, that old person phone ring chime. Troy hasn’t cared enough to change it to something else. It’s Cleveland. “Who the fuck is this?” Troy says before taking another sip of the suds. they were starting to taste like rotten rice. He needed a cold one. Cleveland says “Jesus, how much beer did we drink yesterday?” Troy gets up and heads to the kitchen, skirting a bag of spilled flour next to the sink. He opens the fridge door. There’s one beer left. Thank God. “Welp, I got two thirty-four packs and there are... two left. He finishes off the warm one still in his hand. “Make that one.” He belches loud for Clevelend on the other end and grabs up the last cold one. “We drank sixty-six beers last night?” Cleveland says. “It appears so, good buddy.” He opens the cold one and takes a long swig. He feels almost all the way okay now.
“No fukkin’ wonder. I woke up this morning and my car was parked across the street in my neighbor’s driveway.” Troy guffaws “you drunk ass motherfucker.” “Yeah” Cleveland says “I think I pissed in my laundry basket too. What a fukkin’ night. I feel like shit.” “Just drink some more my good fellow” Troy says sagely, doing just that. “Whatever” Cleveland says “I’ll just power through. I have to get to the airport in...” there’s a pause “fuck. An hour. God fukkin’ dammit.” Troy laughs “just cancel it, go tomorrow or something, then you can come back over, only this time it’s your turn to get the brewskies ya freeloadin’ butthole.” “Shit, I wish” Cleveland says “I have to get my ass to, get this, Cleveland Ohio, then fly my ass to some bumfuck place in somewhere that I can’t pronounce.” Troy snorts laughter and some beer comes out his nose. It actually felt pretty okay. “Have fun with that. I’m going to be sittin’ here on my niiiice soft couch all day. Maybe I’ll take a nap or something.”
“Fuck you, Troy. Oh yeah, remember what we talked about last night, ya know, that old guy from Norway?” Troy thinks. “Maybe? Something about a dick shaped cucumber or something?” “Close enough” Cleveland says “well, I’m going to be meeting up with that dude this time around. You still want that shit?” “Hell yeah I do!” Troy says “Come on by when you get back, I’ll make you a pie or something for it.”
“Yeah, no thanks, think I’ll just stick with beer and big titted ladies on the tube. I should be back in a week or so.”
”aight, get your sweet ass on back here then.” Troy hangs up on Cleveland. Goodbyes were for sissies.