Enough about C. This is the last one

Here is the story that I will forever remember as one of the funniest series of events I ever saw. I'm sure you won't even crack a smile, because you don't know C and what he looked like, but here goes. Picture John Belushi when you're reading this...It might help.

C and I were scheduled to fish a tournament on a local lake, right in town as a matter of fact. At most, C's house was a mile from the boat ramp, so this would not be as early a morning as some. To C, this meant he could just stay out later and drink more. C had been, at this point, married for about a month. The Canada episode that would mark the end of our friendship, was a couple of months away.

I arrived at C's house around 6 AM that morning and waited out front for the light to go on, indicating he knew I was there. After a couple of minutes with no light, I knew I was going to have to wake him up. I also knew that there was now a very good chance that C was still drunk from a night of parties. It was going to be one of those mornings that had become all too familiar for me regarding C, but somehow still managed to be amusing enough that I let it continue.

I banged on the door...No response. The dogs were yapping non-stop inside, the kind of thing you just can't sleep through. Still no one answered. I let myself into the house, looked in the TV room, then went up the steps to C's bedroom. Sure enough, there he was. He was laid out in a tornado of sheets, his belly hanging over the side of the bed, snoring mercilessly while a fan blew directly at his head. I gently woke him up (you take your chances surprising a 300 pound drunk brawler) and he started to pull himself together and out of bed. He did not even know I was there. Instead, he stumbled naked over to the patio door and proceeded to piss through the screendoor, mumbling the whole time about "who the F*** was talking to him". When he was finished, he stumbled back to the bed and was snoring with 5 seconds.

I made an interesting observation to myself...His wife was not in the bed. No wife in the entire house to be exact. "That explains the drunkfest" I say to myself, but regardless I had to get C going, so I started yelling his name about a foot from his head.

I had not even gotten the first syllable out of my mouth, when C bolted straight up in bed, coming to rest sitting on the edge. His eyes were as big as saucers; so wide I thought his eyeballs would fall out of their sockets. He looked at me, then at the bed, then back to me, and eventually all around the room.

"C, get up man, we're late" I shouted directly in his drunk face, to no response. His eyes still resembled pie plates.

"Where the hell is (his wife) J------?" I yell at him.

His eyes again scanned the bed, the room, and eventually met my own. Then a long pause of revelation ended in near instant sobriety.








"GOOD QUESTION!" he says emphatically.


I have laughed for years replaying those two words in my head. It was classic C. The expression on his face was like a psychotic Hulk Hogan that had just been hit in the nuts with a folding chair. It was priceless.