About a half an hour later he rolls up. He scored a nice ride. We go back inside my house, shoot the shit and I slam a few more beers. Stoney wants to take me for a drive. I decide to call Miraslov to see if he wanted to go with us. I was thinking titty bar for sure. Stoney was down and so was Miraslov. So with Miraslov and I being the designated drunks for the evening, the 3 of us head over to a very cool topless bar in Santa Ana (Southern California, USA for all of you out of state/country people) called Mr.J's.

When I get the time to, this is definitely one of the places I like to go to the most. The women there are pretty fine and most of them are cool to talk to and hang with. Not to mention there's no cover charge.

Stoney, Miraslov and I make our way to the bar for some drinks. As we're waiting to be served, we scoped the scenery for any familiar dancers that we knew. It was at this time I saw him...

There he was, in all his glory. Barely able to keep his head up straight as he was handing the dancer on stage a dollar bill. All by himself and drunker than fuck, it was my longtime friend and party bro...it was THE man himself: The infamous Gumby.

Stoney, Miralsov and I saw him, looked at each other and started cracking up. We knew that our night had now just officially begun.

We walked over to him with a fresh brew and a shot of Jagermeister. With as wasted as he already was, I figured I'd go in for the kill and make this fucker just puke everywhere. Gumby NEVER refuses a drink of any kind from anyone. Miraslov, Stoney amd myself were loving it. We were laughing so hard...really, you should have seen him. He was funnier than shit. Gumby was swaying back and forth in a feeble attempt to hold himself up before we even got there. Then we show up and we wanna DRINK with him. Fuck yeah, this is gonna be fun.

Next thing you know, a couple of hours go by, as do a ton of more shots and beers. Gumby is still in the exact same state as he was when we showed up. I couldn't fucking believe it. This guy was ready for...how much more I'll never, ever know or understand. By now we started feeling pretty good and we knew that Gumby had to be beyond just completely dusted. But we were running short on cash and Stoney had to be at work early the next day, so we decided to leave.

I was bummed. I wanted some action, man. I'd seen Gumby like this before, but fuck, this guys tolerance is just absolutely amazing. Oh well.

I ask Gumby how he's getting home. He said he got dropped off by a friend that was supposed to come back a few hours ago, but never did. Stoney also offered him a ride because it would just give him another reason to drive around some more in his new truck. Gumby was all for it. So the 4 of us pile into Stoneys new, prized sled and head home.

The plan was to drop Gumby off first, then us two at my house with Miraslov crashing on my couch, then Stoney would go home. Then it happened...out of nowhere, without warning, an unbearable FUCKING STENCH rips through the cab of Stoneys rig. Fuck, it was rank! None of us could believe how fucking bad it suddenly stunk. It was fucking brutal! That's when I had to say something.

You know when someone rips a bad fart you say "Hey, who just shit their pants?" Well, that's what I said. Right after I said it I heard Gumby slurring his words as he replied "I think I just did." And he DID! He crapped his fucking pants. Stoneys new truck stunk like shit the rest of the way home. For the next 15 minutes of fragrant hell, all of us were looking like a pack of dogs with our heads hanging out the window as we gasped for air until we could drop Gumby off at home. Gumby didn't even care. In fact, at the rate he was going, I think he might have even enjoyed it.

We finally make it to Gumbys apartment. Me and Miraslov have to walk Gumby up the stairs to his pad because now he can barely stand up by himself, let alone walk. Once we get him to his front door, Gumby spends the next few minutes trying to get his key into the door to unlock it. After watching his failed attempts to do so and me getting tired as fuck of smelling his shit soaked jeans, I tell him to give me the key so I can unlock it and get him inside. As it turns out, Gumby handed me a fucking quarter. It wasn't even a key. He was trying to unlock his front door with a fucking coin! It was hilarious. What made it even better was the fact that I tried to open the door, hoping it was unlocked and it was. So we pushed Gumby inside and watched him fall face first on his couch. We went back to my place and Stoney went home. At the time, we thought the evening had ended. Well it did, at least for us anyway...

A few days later, Gumby stopped by my house to hang out. It was one of the very few times I'd ever seen the guy sober. He told me that he remembered everything about that night and told me what happened after we dropped him off.

Apparently at the time in his drunken wisdom, he was thinking that I had something to do with him shitting himself. What, I don't know, but unlike us, he didn't think it was very funny. So he somehow managed to change his pants and walk to my house. This guy is like The Terminator, he just won't fucking die, no matter how much alcohol you feed him.

Now its about 4 in the morning, Miraslov is unconscious on my couch and I'm the same in my room. Gumby's so wasted that he thinks he's at MY front door, but he isn't. He's actually beating on my next door neighbors front door and screaming for me to come outside because he's fucking pissed off at me. The neighbors wake up and they're yelling, telling him that I live next door. Gumby thinks that he's being lied to, so he starts going off on them. Next thing you know, the cops show up and arrest Gumby for being drunk in public, disturbing the peace, etc., and take him to jail.

It doesn't end there either.

At the time of his arrest, Gumby told me that he was wearing black jeans, a black Pink Floyd t-shirt and a blue flannel over it. The cops took him in and threw him into the drunk tank to sober up with the rest of the idiots. Knowing there's nothing else he can do, he pulls up a piece of floor and goes to sleep.

Awhile later Gumby wakes up and now another guy in the tank is wearing his blue flannel shirt. The other guys shirt underneath it was blue and matched the flannel that he took from Gumby while he was sleeping. Gumby was pissed and said something to the cops inside. The police report said that Gumby was wearing "a black shirt" and mentioned nothing about the flannel. The report on the other guy said that he was wearing "a blue shirt" and also made no mention of a flannel. The other guy lied through his teeth and was released before Gumby was, so he got to keep the shirt off of Gumbys back. What else can go wrong?

Well, by the time Gumby was released, he was then sober and hungover as fuck. Since he changed his shit filled pants before he tried to go to my house, he left his wallet and keys in his other pants. He tried to make a few collect calls to get someone to give him a ride home (he doesn't have a cel phone) but nobody was around and he had no wallet to pay for a cab ride. So he ended up walking a few miles feeling like the living dead just to get home. Luckily for him his front door was still unlocked.

When it was all said and done, we both thought it was pretty funny. I'll see him again sometime I'm sure, and I'm looking forward to seeing what happens next.