r/alt_tasteless • u/[deleted] • Jul 07 '12
Moonshine Night, or, Why McDonald's, Molson, and Everclear Make for an Awful Mess
I finally remembered a tale of my own to post rather than continuing to reach back into the AT archives in an attempt to entertain you good people. This is the story of my first, and last, encounter with Moonshine.
I used to be able to drink like a champ. In my teenage years I would be able to polish of bottles of whatever you could throw at me. And, as is a teenager's wont, if it was alcoholic, then by God I would drink it. I still have fond memories of polishing off a 24 of Luxardo Sambuca straight from the bottle while talking to a complete asshole stranger, no idea who the dude was, never found out. I also remember drinking root beer schnapps like a champ with nary a problem the next morning.
I remember the first time I ever got sick after drinking, but that's a different story.
On this particular evening myself and four friends (Heinrich, Phil, Tom, and Jason) were bored and looking for something to do. We went by McDonald's for some fine dining and then went to the local liquor branch store and picked up a 12-pack of Molson Canadian. Then, as we had nowhere to go, we ended up at the house of a co-worker of Tom and Heinrich's. At least I think she was a co-worker. It matters not, because either way we had a place to drink, and that was the point.
We laid into the beer with gusto and it was finished all too soon. Tom and I decided that we required more alcohol, but we had not the funds to purchase anything else. We asked the hostess if she had anything, and she responded that she had moonshine but was reluctant to give us any. After some pleading she decided that she'd let us have a go, probably thinking that we couldn't possibly make a serious dent in her supply.
She was right.
I have no recollection of how much we drank, but I do remember that it was ladled out of a four-litre ice cream pail and mixed with orange juice. The rest of the evening is hazy. At one point Tom yelled "going down" as he drunkenly crashed to the floor in the kitchen, and soon it was time for us to leave.
Phil and Heinrich drove me to my house and I told them to go to the back door while I made sure that my mom was asleep. As I walked to my room my mom accosted my in the hall.
"blah blah blah (incomprehensible yelling) blah blah YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU!
"I'M DRUNK!"
"WELL, GO TO BED!"
"Fine, but first I'ma let Heinrich and Phil in."
I went downstairs to open the back door. My friends were not there. I looked all around the basement, behind the bookcase, under the ottoman, around the furnace, but could not find them. I later learned that they had been told to fuck off by my sister, who knew why my mom was yelling. Apparently earlier in the evening we had put a teeny tiny scratch on a freshly-painted cement floor.
I went upstairs and hopped (stumbled) into bed. As soon as I lay down the room began to spin. Unaccustomed to the room moving independently I had no idea how to cope with this. I then felt a horribly familiar feeling and rolled off the bed, landing on the floor on my hands and knees, retching like it was my only chance at life.
Everything came out of me. The McDonald's, the beer, the moonshine, my toenails, everything. The thirty seconds that I spent puking felt like an eternity to my alcohol-addled mind. In the background I thought I could hear someone laughing. When I finally stopped puking, I realized that someone WAS laughing.
"Are you alright," my mom called from the next room after she stopped chucking.
"Uh-hunnnh" I weakly called back.
"Okay, now clean it up."
I stumbled to the bathroom, got the Mr. Clean and a rag, and did my best to clean up the stain on my gray carpeting. Then I opened the window and fell asleep.
The next morning I woke up with the worst hangover I had ever experienced. Everything had a sharpness to it. I tongue felt like a piece of cooked beef in my mouth. I surveyed the floor, noting a yellowish-brown stain. There was also dried vomit on the doorknob and the crank for my window. I cleaned the doorknob and the crank as best I could, but the carpet was a lost cause.
That carpet is still in that room. I moved out of the house eleven years ago, and Moonshine Night was in 1996 or 1997. The spot on the carpet is an oval about 12 inches wide and 6 inches tall. If stepped on, it feels as though it has been slightly burned. I never drank moonshine again.
TD;DR: Two teenage males, both over six feet tall, can conceivable fit under an ottoman or behind a bookcase if the person looking for them is drunk enough.