Read I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell Online
Authors: Tucker Max
I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell (23 page)
And that marked the last time in my life I ever underestimated th
e
resourcefulness or motivation of a woman that I had wronged. Of course
,
if I was smarter I would have just stopped wronging women and instea
d
been honest with both myself and them about who I was an
d
what I wanted, but that didn't happen for another few years
.
D
Occurred-September 2002 Written-October 2002
Thursday
It's a typical Thursday in my life, noonish, I'm at the laundromat washin
g
my filthy rags, when my cell phone buzzes. It's my cousin, TheCousin
,
who goes to the University of Tennessee
.
"Dude- Tucker-I've got tickets to the UT-Miami game this weekend
,
AND it's Homecoming. You have to come down. It's going to b
e
awesome.
"
I need no other persuasion. Check last minute flights to Knoxville
:
$1047. Looks like I'm driving. The drive is no problem, until I get about 6
0
miles from the Kentucky Tennessee border. I stop at some low-ren
t
redneck place so I can pick up beer for the last hour of the drive. I wan
t
to arrive prepared
.
I had heard about "dry" counties before, but they were still an abstrac
t
and foreign concept to me. I thought of them as silly anachronism
s
from a long distant prohibitionist past, something only found in th
e
pages of National Geographic. I was wrong. Evidently, every count
y
along 1-75 from Richmond, KY to the Tennessee border is dry. THI
S
INFURIATED ME. I almost got into a fight with the redneck checkou
t
woman when she told me I have 40 more miles to go before I coul
d
buy liquor
.
"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO ARRIVE DRUNK IF YOU WON'T SEL
L
ME LIQUOR?? WHAT KIND OF BARBARISM IS THIS??
"
I stopped right across the Tennessee border, excited by the sign tha
t
says "First Place to Buy Beer." But at the gas station, there didn't appea
r
to be any alcohol for sale. I inquire
:
Tucker "Don't you sell alcohol?
"
Attendant "No, we're too close to a church.
"
Tucker "What? Didn't Jesus drink wine?
"
Attendant "Yeah, well, 'round here, ya gotta go-on down da roa
d
bout'a half mile, to da bar.
"
Driven by my need for libation, I "go-on down da road bout'a half mile
"
and find, literally, a bar with a drive-thru liquor store attached. But apparently, this wasn't enough. They had firecrackers for sale, right there next to the beer, in the drive-thru liquor store. I'll just pause here and let everyone make up their own redneck jokes.
I arrive at my cousin's apartment, and it's a TV cliche of a college apartment; beer cans piled to the ceiling, pubic hairs all over the sink, filthy underwear hanging from the lamps. I go to get a beer from his fridge, and what does he have? Cans of "Country Club Malt Liquor." Sometimes, I really do think that God hates me.
After enduring a few cans of this ghetto swill, we head out to a line of bars that everyone in Knoxville calls "The Strip." Typical college town with typical college bars, we pick one and start the night. Not ten minutes later, three girls walk in-two are attractive, one is fat. My cousin tells me that one of them has been sweating him for months. Which one? "The fat one."
I immediately walk over and point out my cousin to Fatty, and she almost knocks me and a random girl over to get to him and give him a hug. He gives me a look of, "I fucking hate you, and hope you immediately die an agonizing death."
The rest of the night saw two dramas play out simultaneously: While my cousin tried to fend off the obvious and painful advances of Fatty, on my side the two attractive girls were battling to decide which one was going to hook up with me. It wasn't that I was so incredibly charming. The 1st Law of Scarcity was at work; two of them plus one of me equals my desirability increasing substantially. It was awesome. They were being catty bitches to each other, each one trying to monopolize my attention and push the other one out. It was like a bad episode of
Elimidate.
Apparently, I didn't have much of a say in the matter, but I was rooting for the short girl; she had the better face, and seemed somewhat intelligent.
My cousin saw what was going on, knew I liked the short girl, knew I was drunk, and set the match to the gasoline: TheCousin "Hey Tucker, you know she's French, don't you?" Tucker "Oh hell no-You're French?"
Girl "My parents are, but I was born here. I want to move to France after graduation."
Tucker "You fucking cheese-eating surrender monkey. I though
t
someone stunk around here. So if I start speaking German can I pus
h
you around and take all your stuff? Those hairy fucking stink-bags woul
d
be speaking Kraut right now if it wasn't for us, and they aren't the leas
t
bit appreciative. I hope they all fucking die, and your frog-sympathizin
g
ass with them.
"
That pretty much settled it: I am going home with the tall one. The fou
r
of us head back to her apartment, and as we walk in, she tells us to b
e
quiet, because her roommate is sleeping, and she is bipolar and wil
l
flip out. Telling me this, especially when I'm drunk, is akin to letting
a
starving, rabid pit bull loose in a Montessori school
.
"Give me and TheCousin ten minutes with her; she'll be trying to han
g
herself with her pantyhose. HEY-CRAZY! COME OUT HERE.
I
WANT TO POINT OUT YOUR FLAWS AND SHORTCOMINGS. I BE
T
YOUR DAD DOESN'T LOVE YOU, DOES HE?
"
The tall girl and I eventually go into the bedroom, leaving my cousin o
n
the sofa to be devoured by Fatty. During foreplay banter, tall gir
l
makes a request
:
Girl "Massage my forearm. It's sore.
"
Tucker "Right. The only way I'm doing that is if it's a post-coital activity.
"
Girl "What? I don't speak Spanish.
"
Oh boy ... it's a good thing I was drunk
.
This girl had a nose job and told me that she has to use Q-tips to ge
t
the boogers out of her nose, because the surgery left her nostril hole
s
too small for her fingers to get into. She got mad when I tested this b
y
trying to stick my fingers into her nose. By god, she was right; I couldn'
t
even get my pinky in there
.
Ten minutes later she told me that she was so poor growing up tha
t
there were times when she and her mom ate only potatoes an
d
peanut butter sandwiches. My response, "I guess stripping really doe
s
pay sometimes, doesn't it?" She got mad, but hey, if she can't take
a
joke, fuck her
.
I wake up the next morning and find my cousin, naked, sheets wrapped clumsily around his torso, asleep on the floor next to the sofa. Why the floor? Because Fatty was so big that both of them couldn't fit on the sofa at the same time. I was in tears laughing at the
scene. We eventually leave, telling the girls lies about how we'll cal
l
them later. As soon as we get outside, my cousin flips
.
TheCousin "I cannot believe you made me do that. It was awful. Sh
e
said I was only the second person she'd ever had sex with, which
I
don't doubt, because honestly-who would want to have sex with her
?
Except for people whose asshole cousin set them up with her, o
f
course.
"
Tucker [I could barely get this out between fits of laughter] "She had
a
hot face.
"
TheCousin "Oh yeah, asshole, she'd be hot as hell if she wasn't fat a
s
fuck. Eat shit and die, you cocksucker.
"
Tucker "Well, at least she had big tits.
"
TheCousin "Yeah, that was the best part. She thought she was ho
t
because she had such big tits, but you didn't notice them because the
y
were resting on her stomach. They were like bags of oatmeal.
"
I really hope his parents read this story
.
TheCousin is currently finishing his undergraduate studies at th
e
University of Tennessee because he was kicked out of the Merchan
t
Marine Academy. Why? He was on restriction, and went off campus t
o
get a sandwich. He'd gotten in so much trouble during his four year
s
there, that this was enough to get him kicked out-THREE DAY
S
BEFORE HIS GRADUATION. Yes, he is obviously related to me
.
TheCousin and I went back to his place, and he took a shower
,
scrubbing himself like a rape victim. He had a late English class that day
,
and I decided to tag along and see what it was like. I went to publi
c
school in Kentucky, and I say this now with full understanding of th
e
meaning: That class, a 300-level class, was possibly the biggest farc
e
of education I have ever seen. I've heard 14 year old meth-addicte
d
Thai prostitutes say more prescient things than the woman that wa
s
supposedly a "professor." I had a hard time believing that this was
a
class. I wish I could give you a recap of the conversation, but tha
t
would be like trying to recount the disjointed ramblings of a senili
c
nursing home sewing circle. That "school" is a joke. I would hav
e
learned more watching a Special Olympics spelling bee
.
After class, my cousin showed me around the campus. There wer
e
beautiful women everywhere. Wanting to test my cousin's game,
I
dared him to approach a random girl and invite her to the lacross
e
party we were going to that night. He casually sauntered up to a beautifu
l
girl, used some dumbshit line, and she looked at him with suc
h
shock and disgust I almost fell over laughing. She looked like a homeles
s
person had asked her to wash his ass. Of course, I wasn't helpin
g
much. I came up right behind him and said, "Is he giving you tha
t
lacrosse party line? It doesn't exist. If you show up to that address
,
he's going to drag you into an alley and beat and rape you.
"
My cousin wasn't that upset, because he said that there would b
e
plenty of lacrosse groupies at the party. He calls them "Iacrossestitutes.
"
The highlight of the campus tour was when we came across this ol
d
guy standing on a corner with a megaphone, preaching to everyon
e
about the Bible and Jesus and whatnot. He had serious menta
l
problems, but was nonetheless hilarious. I loved him. He was castigatin
g
and vilifying every attractive girl that walked by. I stopped for awhile t
o
provoke him. Some samples
:
Me "What do you think about that girl?
"
Him "She will burn in the fires of hell for her heresy! The Lord forbid
s
such dress!
"
Me "Hey man, what about her? Look at her skirt man, that's prett
y
tempting.
"
Him "HARLOT! JEZEBEL! She is a WHORE, WANTON IN HE
R
DEBAUCHERY!!
"
Me "Good Lord! Look at that blonde girl. I'd sell my soul for her.
"
Him "DO NOT FALL VICTIM TO HER TEMPTATION! She is a com
-
mon prostitute, smeared with the paint of seduction, flaunting her wile
s
for Satan!
"
Me "She owes us a rib, right?
"
Him "MORE THAN A RIB! SHE OWES US OUR VIRTUE!! SHAMELES
S
STRUMPET!
!
For my money, there is nothing funnier than provoking idiots. I coul
d
have hung out with that guy all day, but there was alcohol to b
e
consumed and women to be exploited, so it was off to the party
.
My cousin is also the assistant men's lacrosse coach at UT. He woul
d
play for UT, but he used up his four years of eligibility before he go
t
kicked out of the academy. He is like a grad assistant, and hangs ou
t
with the team a lot, thus we went to their party that night at th
e
lacrosse house. At one point in the night, I got to trading stories, an
d
these three guys I met had some great ones
:
Guy #1 told me that, ''I'm not drinking in the shower anymore, becaus
e
the last time I did that I woke up with no hair." Apparently, one time h
e
passed out in the shower, slammed his head on the wall and got
a
concussion. His roommates, instead of helping him, came in an
d
shaved all the hair off his body
.
Guy #2 told me a story about how one time he got so drunk on Re
d
Bull and vodka that when he woke up the next day, his mother came i
n
his room and showed him the police report from the night before. H
e
had NO MEMORY of this, but, according to the police report, he ha
d
driven his car into a house, fought the police when they came to th
e
accident scene, spit on several cops at the police station, and got
a
QUI with a .25 blood alcohol level
.
Guy #3 (actually TheCousin), told me a story about when he was i
n
Europe and hooked with up a Swedish girl. She was giving him hea
d
when he started taking off her pants and said, "Alright, we have t
o
have sex," to which she responded, "I don't know-I can't have anothe
r
abortion." He said there is no quicker way to lose an erection
.
We all agreed
.
At some point later, I drunk dialed a friend of mine. The conversatio
n
went like this
:
Tucker "MY, waz up?
"
Friend "Tucker, what are you saying?
"
Tucker "Am I slurrin' my speech?
"
Friend "Are you what?
"
Tucker "Yeaaa, everbuddies a comedian.
"
I was sitting in the kitchen trying to hit on this one girl, and it wasn'
t
going well. So, in typical Tucker fashion I just swung for the fences
:
Tucker "Why don't you come over here and sit on my lap.
"
Redhead "Why?
"
Tucker "Because then your cooch will be up against my crotch.
"
It didn't work well
.
People started doing keg stands, which led to perhaps the definin
g
moment of the trip. This one girl, who was ugly and a bitch (thus, didn'
t
have basic human rights) started doing one. Don't ask me why I di
d
this, because I have no idea why, but when she was upside down, leg
s
spread apart, I punched her right in the vagina. This caused her t
o
violently spit up the beer she was trying to consume, and fall backward
s
into the two people holding her up, all of them splashing to the mud
.
I ran off, laughing so hysterically I couldn't breathe. Thankfully in th
e
alcohol-addled confusion, no one noticed who did it
.
I ended up leaving the party with a girl who was an alumnus (remember
,
it was Homecoming). We'll call her "Melissa." The only proble
m
was that she didn't live in Knoxville, and I couldn't find my cousin or hi
s
apartment, so we had to go to her friend's place where she was stayin
g
for the weekend. This wasn't that bad, except that we had to sleep on the sofa. I hook up in style.
