The whole flimping idea was to have Marcellus come out to the discotheque and then faint on the floor and then I’d shout at the bartender for help and I’d go behind the bar and suck all the vodka out of a bottle into my third stomach and then puke it back out into everyone’s mouth when we got outside. It was going to be super cool, I promise. Everyone would have their Elmo and Grover Dixie cups and I’d go on pukin’ out some powerful booze-squirts using my new esophageal technique.
But Marcellus didn’t show, so we were left with Antoni “Macaroni” Mahoney, who ended up actually dying because he fainted too hard and fell right onto a bullet someone had dropped on the floor! The bullet popped inside of his ear from the sudden force. Thing ended up perfectly lining up with his ear canal like it was grace itself done made him squash toward the floor in just such a way that it pushed in like an earplug.
It went right through his whole head, which was super fucking gross, and the bartender didn’t even leave the bar like we’d planned he just sat back and lit up the chubbiest fuckin’ blunt I’ve ever seen with my own two eyes. And then Melanie, who was kinda cool before but was about to become hella cool, backflipped into a split and started twerking right on Antoni “Macaroni Pussy Machine” Mahoney’s face. The guy was a fucking legend now and Melanie was just the slut to take him from tungsten trash-ass into the realm of obsidian dreams.
Because Antoni was dead and Melanie had expended all her energy on a violent 30-minute face-sitting session to honor the freshly dead, we ended up just going to a liquor store, buying the vodka bottle, and I swallowed it right there in the parking lot and did my hydraulic throat-squirts into the cups and we all drank and laughed and then thought about dying.