Art of Story-Tellin', Vol. 1
2009-01-30 - 9:11 p.m.

Two stories real quick before I get ready to go out, get drunk, and try to change my life (more on that sentence next time):

One is one that came up during a conversation about clothes with holes in them. The other, inspired by bleek, I'll get to second--

First story:

Flashback to about three years ago, me and my roommates are getting ready to go to a black-tie event. Faculty, staff, and us, pretty much, invited because we (most of us) were involved with community service throughout the year.

Well, the one person who never seemed to have their own dress clothes for ANYTHING asked to borrow a tie from Tone, who was living with us as well.

Tone: Here ya go, man. Just bring it back, it's my only one.

Simple enough, right?

Lends him the tie and everything's cool. We go to the event, come home, and three days later, when Tone asks for the tie, dude has no idea where it is.

Two weeks later, though, same thing. Standing in the living room getting ready for church, he doesn't have an appropriate dress shirt.

Nah. Dude ain't got a dress shirt, either.

So Tone to the rescue. Literally lends him the shirt off his back and lets him go on to worship.

And bright and early Monday morning, Tone asks for the shirt.

Dude says:

"Aw, man, I must have left it in my car."

...why the fuck you riding around shirtless anyway, Tupac? What the fuck?

Sensing bullshit, but deciding to be bigger, Tone leaves the room and being the person that he is, let it bother him until he tells me the whole story to this point that night.

I tell him, you better get your shirt back. Matter of fact, ask him as soon as he walks in to go get your shirt 'out the car', since that's where it is.

Walks in 15 minutes later, Tone asks for his shirt.

"Aw, man...that shirt had a hole in it. I thought you ain't really want it."


"You want it, still?"

I'm trying not to laugh, because I know that his shirt is either someplace FOUL, or he's trying to hold on to the one free dress shirt that he owns. All this time, I'm looking at Tone's face, which reads, Nigga, if you don't go get that shirt...

"Man. We must got some moths in here, man."


"I'll get it, though. Right after I take this trash out."

2 hours later, he's on his way out the door on a date. With a jacket on. Normally not suspicious, but at the end of

And according to the rest of the story, which I did not witness, Captain Cuff-A-Shirt ended up at a bar, drunk, trying to take home a chubby teenager.

You heard me.

Her cornfed boyfriend, apparently, decided that beating his ass was the lesser of the two evils and not only knocked him out, but attempted to strip him butt-ass naked before security was able to pull him off.

Guess whose shirt he's wearing?

He comes to the house about 2 a.m., and we hear the key in the lock and pause M.adden to look up and see Tone's shirt hanging by the collar--STILL BUTTONED, but otherwise, just remnants of fabric, one shoe, busted lip and a fucked-up knot protruding from his forehead.

Silence for about 30 seconds.

Then, Tone:

"Big-ass moths, huh?"

Part 2, next.

yesterday - tomorrow

It might make you feel better
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