
But Lee Foosball didn’t JUST pee on my rug. This kid DOMINATED it with his urine, as well as a few couch cushions. Now it’s not like this rug really tied the room together or anything. In fact the rug isn’t even mine, it’s an old roommates. But the sheer amount of liquid left in my living room was astonishing. You would need a Super Soaker for this kinda job.
And not the cheap ass knockoffs the poor kids in town had. You know, the kind that never worked and leaked more water on their poor ass little hands than they got on anyone else. You would need a top of the line bazooka soaker. The kind that comes with a strap because it’s too big for your little body. It comes with four different nozzle settings and a fuggin backpack attatchment. The kind of watergun you only got if your parents really loved you.
Anyways, at least I got a few beers out of the ordeal, but let’s go back.
I met Lee Foosball at a party over a year ago. All my friends were passed out by 2am from an early start, but I wasn’t ready to quit just yet.
[Sidebar: Early start = 11am. This is opposed to my start at 11pm.]
Now normally I would have left when I realized all the females had evacuated the premises and my friends were incapacitated. But on this night I was determined to finish off the rest of a twelve pack people were supposed to help me with. This left me to hang out with their neighbor Lee for the rest of the night in a condition hardly capable of rational thought. The next day I had blurry memories of arguing about who was better at foosball with a guy I probably wouldn’t be able to recognize, confirmed by my recent call list featuring Lee Foosball, my newest entry.
Skip forward to present day. The plan was to hit the bars with Markley when out of nowhere I get a call from Lee Foosball. I was very surprised I still had his number, and it was Markley on the line telling me which bar to hit up. After meeting Lee Foosball for what I assumed was the second time he tells a vaguely familiar story of seeing me out and exchanging numbers again, and the fact that in his phone I am Jerry Foosball. After a year in the making epic night of foosball and drinking the three of us left our group and walked back to my house. Convenient since I live only a few minutes from the campus bars, especially since it was raining.
At this point Markley is too drunk to make decisions, but needs to be up and on his way to work at 7:30 in the morning. Despite wanting to walk home it is pouring rain at this point so they decide to crash in the living room. For some peculiar reason I find Lee setting up to sleep on the floor. I try to convince him we have two couches but he insists. Too drunk to care at this point, I figure if he wants to sleep on the dirty floor that bad then who was I to stand in his way.
Waking up a few hours later to make sure Markley will get to work on time I open my door to find Lee sprawled out on my floor in his underwear with his pants around his ankles lying on a body sized backing cushion and a seat cushion. Confused, I slowly close my door and go back to bed. The last thing I wanted to see at that point was a half naked grown man dryhump in his sleep. The next time I wake up Lee and Markley are gone, but the cushions on the floor look a little bit darker. My sleuthing skills quickly confirm that it is definitely piss, but the sheer amount of it was unholy.
This was no ordinary piss. It seemed inhuman that this amount of liquid be expunged from just one person. The rug itself should have been more than enough, but to soak through two giant cushions as well? I swear the kid must have pissed himself multiple times throughout the night.
Txt to Markley: Im pretty sure Lee wet himself last night
Markley: hahahaha ha I know! u goin 2 pennies?
Txt from Lee Foosball two days later at 5:46am: Sry bout floor gdttin all pissed up, but thtas why I dint want to slep on the couch and that jazz
According to Markley this guy is a known Whiz Kid. I’ve known a few people like this in fact. When they drink too much anything and everything can become a toilet, and their inebriated consciousness often makes the most bizarre choices on how to take care of this bodily function. No harm done since it wasn’t my couch or rug, and I will be moving out soon. Plus Lee Foosball bought my beers pretty much all night last time we were out. Certainly not the strangest case I know of someone completely shitfaced not knowing how to use a bathroom, but it sure was an interesting second impression of Lee Foosball.
