A little background first. BWR is a champ of a 23 year-old gentleman working in his first job since graduating from an undisclosed ACC school last December. He lives at home, in what I'm sure is a nice mansion with such ammenities as a long, winding driveway to keep the clammor of the busy suburban streets out of his parents' ears, jacuzzi tubs in every bathroom, curtains that open/close with the push of a button (think The Holiday), and a maid. This means that BWR's entire salary can be put towards booze and debauchery, and he takes that responsibility pretty seriously. Today, as is the case every Friday, BWR's life is in shambles, and he's barely functioning. He proposed to his girlfriend hundreds of times last night and doesn't remember, woke up stark naked with his head at the foot of the bed and his feet on his pillow, and actually said during lunch, "I really wish I had peed the bed because that would've taken the night from plain epic to historical." Basically, BWR is perfect fodder for this irresponsibility-focused publication. So now, the day when BWR almost got tazered and his friend spent the night in jail.
***
It's a cold December evening in the D.C. suburbs, and BWR and his mix of frat buddies and childhood friends make a trip to one of the area's hot spots for a few (read: 20) beers. The bars close down at 2 am, but the boys are just not ready to call it a night, so rather than splitting up and heading to their respective homes, they all take a cab back to BWR's place to have his maid serve them Natty Light and Chili Dip until the sun comes up. Afforementioned long, windy driveway presents a problem for the taxi driver, who's not particularly intersted in backing all the way out in the snow, so BWR asks to be dropped off where the driveway meets the street. He and his buddies apparently can't all walk together in a "Left, Left, Left, Right, Left" type of line led by BWR, so some friends run/skip/cartwheel through the snowy yard while BWR strolls leisurely up the driveway to the door. When he gets there and everyone goes inside, he asks Lolita (the maid, duh) to bring out 7 Natty Lights for his gaggle of bros...only to realize that someone's missing.
CUT TO.....
BWR's friend, Kung Fu Panda, gets out of the cab and decides that, since it's freezing, he will run up to the house through the side yard, arrive at the door first, and get Lolita to let him in. He jogs for a while, feeling like maybe it would have been a better idea to stay on the driveway to ensure ultimate arrival at the front door rather than a go through the woods in the middle of December, but he decides that there's no turning back now, and he must trek on. Finally, after what seems like hours but is more like 3.5 minutes, Kung Fu Panda arrives at the front door and starts banging.
"Let me in, Motherfuckers, it's freezing out here!!" he yells, at his friends who are clearly too belligerent to care about his needs.
...Nothing happens.....so he bangs some more, cursing their names all the while and then institutes Plan B: Call BWR.
"Dude, I'm outside your house, what the fuck?"
"Dude, no you're......"
...A light has come on in the house, so Kung Fu Panda assumes he's about to be let in. He bangs again, spouts off a few more obscenities, and expects to be wrapped in the warmth of a beer in no time. Instead though, he finds himself being yelled at.
"Who's there?" a man with an accent yells from inside.
"It's Kung Fu Panda you stupid [insert explative of your choice], open the door."
"Please go away."
"[explative again]...Let me in, I'm freezing."
"Go away or I'm going to call the Police."
"[Explative, explative, explative]"
...Man with accent calls the police.
...Kung Fu Panda starts to think that maybe he's not at BWR's house after all. He looks around, curses again, and runs across the street (also to a stranger's house), triple flying roundhouse kicks the door in, continues running into the kitchen, falls, and passes out face down on the floor.
CUT TO.....
The people who actually live in the house hear their door essentially explode at 3 am and decide they're being robbed and will most likely die. They also call the police (but only after baricading themselves in the master bathroom of the house, which drunk Kung Fu Panda probably couldn't even find if he lived there).
CUT TO.....
BWR mounts a search party because he is concerned that his friend has curled up in a ball in the snow and will be found in the morning having turned into a 200-pound block of ice. He walks down his driveway to the street, thinking that he might get a better view of the neighborhood from there and, as a result, find his friend. He looks to the right and sees car headlights. He looks to the left and sees more car headlights. He looks back to the right and discovers that there are county police cars approaching from both directions at a rapid pace. He flags one down, almost gets tazered by a cop who thinks he's likely the bozo who's tried to break into two houses within yards of where he's standing in the last 15 minutes. When the cop hears the description of the culprit over the radio though ("6'4 giant asian monster), he realizes BWR doesn't quite fit the bill. They let him go and find his friend passed out in the kitchen of the neighbor's house and take him to jail.
In the morning, he gets bailed out and goes over to the neighbor's house to help nail pieces of plywood into the doorframe to keep the below-freezing winds from making their home unliveable until their new set of gorgeous wooden double doors, imported from Italy probably, can arrive. He pays for them. Now, when he drives by, sometimes he admires them from afar and says: "Those doors are so nice. I bought them," but he does not go touch them, because he's not allowed.
THE END.
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