Regretful Submission – 3 stooges

Name:  Trev

Age: 17

Myself and two friends (Sam and Calvin) decided to go camping one weekend when I was still in highschool.  We loaded up all the essentials needed to make it an entertaining evening.  Just off the top of my head I can remember the following random supplies:

1) 1 bottle of buttershots

2) 12 oz water bottle filled with Rum

3) Hot dogs

4) 1 case of MGD

5) Gallon milk jug filled half way with Gasoline

6) 1 tent

7) 22 Caliber rifle

I don’t remember what time of year it was but I do remember it being cold.  So when Calvin parked his truck in a suitable camping area, the first thing I did was gather up some fire wood.  This was not some assigned camping area, we just drove out deep into the national forest like its supposed to be done.

I’d say 15 minutes went by and we already had already put down a few beers and had moved on to shooting at things with Sam’s rifle.  When that got boring, we started in on the Buttershots and rum.

I remember the conversation going like this:

Me: Hey I bet I can finish this Rum before you both finish that bottle of Buttershots.

Sam: You’re on

Calvin: Sure!

12 ounces of Rum does not go down as smooth as I had hoped.  I lost the drinking contest but felt good that I had polished off almost the whole bottle by myself.

At this point I felt that our fire was not big enough so I grabbed the Milk jug that was full of gasoline and started to pour it on the fire.  Flames lit up the sky and the top of the milk jug caught on fire.  In a panic I tossed the jug.  This lead to a brush fire that the 3 of us finally stomped out after about 30 minutes of yelling and running in circles.

The Rum was hitting me hard now so I decided to go lay in the tent.  Before I had a chance to close my eyes I felt my stomach give in.  I proceeded to projectile vomit all over the sleeping bags and the sides of the tent.  Calvin was screaming at me and in his drunken state, he started to cry.

Calvin: That was a bra bran brand new tent you asshole you asshole!

Since we no longer had a place to sleep, were not able to drive, and didn’t want to use vomit covered sleeping bags we all piled into the front of Calvin’s truck.  To make matters worse, Cal’s truck was one of those old Fords with the big bench seats that didn’t recline.

The next morning I spent a good hour cleaning up the tent.  I was covered in my own vomit, and Sam had some on him to (he slept next to me).  Our camp site looked like a war zone.  I think this was the first (but not last) time I’ve ever promised myself that I would never drink Captain Morgan’s again.