The Sunday night adventures of Captain BK

 

 

You'd think that Sundays are usually pretty tame and lame right? Well I thought the same thing until, well, yesterday. There's no one better than Captain Buzzkiller to make your life more interesting and aggravating.

After spending an entire afternoon staring outside my windows to find an appropriate duration of sun to go out and get a decent tan, I decided that my afternoon was pretty much wasted. While wallowing in my misery, I decided to cure my problem the only way that seemed logical: hit a Chinese buffet.

The buffet was pretty typical, except for one thing that made it all worthwhile: an obscenely attractive underage girl. I almost choked on my noodles when I saw her. She was your average hottie, except for her claim to fame: skinny as a rake with giant knockers. They were so proficient that they actually sat in the middle of her chest. Possibly a genetic defect, it couldn't have possibly looked any better. "Her chest is actually bigger than her ass," my highly observative friend commented. I nodded. As I continued to mercifully put food into my mouth while fantasizing about her, a blinding flash of light struck me. It was CAPTAIN BUZZKILLER!

"My dear Tommy!" Captain BK bellowed, "Lest you not forget that she's probably fifteen years old and you're a pathetic glory-day-hogging pervert."

Consider my buzz killed. Fuck you, Captain.

After the buffet, we took my friend's Celica to the car wash. There is nothing quite as rewarding as running and hopping around trying to wash an entire car in 5 minutes while you're on the verge of vomiting from excessive food consumption. Blah.

After that me and my pals hit Nielstown, a popular Polish community centre. After all, what could be better than hanging out with a thousand people that are exactly like your parents and younger siblings? You've never seen this large an assortment of Hondas, Mazdas, Toyotas and Volkswagens in your life. We walked around, running into the same people you've been running into for 14 years, watching everyone get drunk, making smalltalk about pointless bullshit like "Oh, what you saying these days? Whatcha up to? You working?" Hey buddy, SHUT THE FUCK UP. If we were down, you'd know all this shit by now. If you weren't interested before, don't bother now. "Oh actually," I responded, "I'm in Ottawa right now. I just transferred there last year. I'm just taking the third year of my program." Their faces grow long. "Oh really? So what are you taking there?" they ask, curious.
"Nuclear physics, actually," I respond with no expression in my voice.

Suckers.

After buying a few too many beer tickets and trying not to be wasteful, we stumbled about looking for the lone person we haven't met yet. With my newfound screwed-up perception, I started looking carefully at the people around me. Were all these people Polish? They couldn't be! All these fake Polish posers walking around trying to fit in...and then, Captain BK appears to set things straight!

"Young lady, stop right there! You are not Polish!"
"Excuse me?"
"You have freckles. Polish people don't have freckles. That's all there is to it."

"Young man, you're definitely not Polish!"
"How the (insert Polish obscenity here) you figure homie?!"
"You drove a Mustang here. That's the anti-thesis of Polish culture."

"Excuse me young lady, I don't think you're Polish!"
The young girl looks at Captain BK in shock. "How do you know that?!"
"Because you're black?"

Some people are just so full of it. Beer after beer, I started to look at things at things in an entire different way. So we left and went downtown.

With every single bar dead, there was nothing left to do but buy a pitcher while already drunk and seal the deal. With far too much beer in us and no room for more due to the buffet, we decided to go home and finish the night - that was, until the the fucking slots casino appeared out of nowhere and beckoned us to go inside. I'll admit that I was absolutely in no shape to be in public at this point, but I acted my most sober while getting past the ID guards.

What could be more exciting while being drunk than a huge fucking room full of flashing lights, bells, ringing and screaming? Every single slot machine was yelling at me for attention. I opened my wallet which was full and decided to share my money with my friend. What the fuck was I thinking? Dumb. I got myself $5 in quarter tokens and sat down and started feeding tokens into the fucking slot machine. I must have been screwed out of my mind, because not for one second did I realize what I was doing. I WAS PUTTING MONEY INTO A MACHINE THAT DIDN'T GIVE ME ANYTHING BACK. I kept pulling the handle, it played some fucking little melody, something buzzes and then my quarter is gone. What the fuck did I just do? And why the fuck did I put in twenty more coins expecting something different to happen? Goddamn it all to hell. I wanted to stand up and announce to everyone that they're fucking retarded for being here. Then, Captain BK appears to set the record straight:

"Tommy!"
"Yes Captain?"
"Every day when you go to work, you almost break down in tears while feeding the parking machine. You just put fucking money into a machine that bullshits you into thoughts of riches and takes every quarter you've earned while playing some music for you. You're a fucking dumbass."
Consider my buzz killed. Luckily, there was lots of buzz to work with.

We hit the in-house restaurant. Food was the furthest thing from my mind, but my friends were into the idea. The waitress was way cute and obviously wanted me. I knew that because she came over to our table to serve us.
"What can I get you guys?"
"I'll have the hot chicken sandwich," my friend said.
"White or whole wheat?"
"Whole wheat."
"Toasted or plain."
"Plain."
"Gravy with that?"
"Yes."
The very concept of this sandwich made me hungry. It sounded much too good for words.

We patiently waited for the food to arrive while I was giggling about random things in the room. I couldn't feel my face, let alone a reason to live.

The waitress comes to us with the food. The plate containing the "Hot Chicken Sandwich" is put on the table. All of a sudden, Captain BK appears and laughs at us.
The "Hot Chicken Sandwich" was the following:

• a piece of whole wheat Wonderbread. A single piece, as in 1
• said piece of bread was covered in some sort of brownish slop mixed with what could have very well been pieces of chicken
• approximately 22 fries
• It was not in fact "hot", but cold

If there was any buzz left, it was just killed. Ten dollars for a piece of cold, slimy wet bread. It's good to know the the money I put into that slot machine went to good use.

My friend mercifully ate it. He left the bread, however, since it looked absolutely infectious. The waitress comes back to us. "Can I get you anything? A drink perhaps?" She asks me.
"I'm pretty sure I don't need anymore, thanks."
"You sure? I'm sorry I'm bugging you guys, I'm just really bored."
"Oh yeah?" I yelped, "Come over to my house and we'll see just how bored you'll be!" (I didn't say this part, although I thought it)
"Okay, well then, how about some cheesecake? It's only ninety-nine cents."
Music to my ears. I fucking love cheesecake. I'd eat cheesecake like a complimentary buffet in Africa. I felt inside my pocket and located a loonie and a quarter. "Yeah, let's do the cheesecake thing."
"Cool. Caramel apple or raspberry?"
"Sounds good," I said.
"No, I was giving you a choice. Caramel apple or raspberry?"
"Okay," I said.
I felt a violent vibe coming from her. She legitimately wanted to hurt me.
"Excuse me?"
"Apple..." I said. I wanted to laugh at her. Maybe I just wanted to laugh because my pants felt funny.
I thought back to the Hot Chicken Sandwich and decided that my piece of cheesecake was going to be a sliver of cheddar with a cookie beside it.

As she brings the plate to me, she puts it down and goes "Mmmmmm!!" to me. Am I fucking 6 months old or something? Why did you mmmmmmm me? Is there something inherently defective about my cheesecake?! Bitch you'd better fess up of you're get owned by me one day! Fucking OWNED!!!

Luckily it wasn't defective, and it was delicious. And it made my teeth hurt. Mmmmm, indeed. As we left, I looked at her. "Good cheesecake by the way."
"I didn't make it!"
No shit, Sherlock. I swear, some people are so fucking dense...

As I arrived home, my head was spinning. As I struggled to think straight, I turned on my computer and made a desperate attempt in believing that someone sent me email. No one did. So I wrote myself one. And then I wrote this article. And then you wanted to read it. And tomorrow morning I'll fix all the mistakes because right now I wrote it all in yellow because yellow is funner than gray. Then, Captain BK appeared and told me to go to bed and I did. Bye.