The Designated

"What?! that's bullshit"

"Bullshit nothing, why you being so selfish?"

"Nope, uh uh, no way you ain't switching this to me man, no sir."

"I can see your confused and that's o.k your friends are here for you, we are all here, just let it out big guy"

"Ha your funny, anybody ever tell you how funny you are, I bet you get told how funny you are all the God damn time, hell the things a man could do with that kinda gift, you know, the gift of being funny, shit a man could do great things"

"I am deeply sorry for your loss, really I am and I wish I could help you, really I do but my hands are tied, really they are."

"This is some serious BS, so you guys get to...and I have to.....oh this is Bull shit"

"Tell you what first ones on me. Diet or regular?"

"I hate you."

"what"??

"you, I hate you"

"oh o.k"


Grant sat:

slumped in his chair in shear disappointment, questioning the humanism of his fellow man. There sat the designated driver, a noble charge but heavy lies the crown. In honour we drink to your sacrifice made here tonight and in justice our hangovers shall be quite severe.


Grant drank coke and ate burger rings:

Reflecting on the duty, it really does suck you'll get no arguments from me, butit is my belief that there are worse things that can happen to a man. Think about it, all the free food, cigarettes and coke you can devour not to mention the satisfaction of being the only mammal in the room with the ability to make intelligent decisions. I picture it as a similar situation to a journalist in a documentary on the life of penguins, with the journalist standing in the middle giving the report whilst the little retards are running around in circles, bumping into each other, sliding down hills and trying to chat up the hot bartender. Stupid sea birds, shes a lesbian. Though there is no competition as to who is having more fun I'm sure there is a certain satisfaction gained.


Grant drove:

The night was nearing its end and at last the time of the designated was upon us. last rounds were called and we wandered out marvelling at the beauty of the stars and arguing the unknown truths of the universe, its creation and how its all relevant to how in life we should all just chill. I'm told the argument continued as the 6 of us piled into Grants Hyundai and were carted away to our various destinations.


Grant receives the Congressional Medal of Honour:

One by one our intoxicated band of mystical theologians dispersed. with every house separating our bonding session just that extra seat more. To the credit of Grant he did earn himself the medal of honour in going over and above the call of duty, Tim in his inebriated state had locked himself out in which Grant proceeded to help him remove the fly screen and climb through the window whilst the rest of us remained semi conscious in the warmth of the car. Even as I stumbled out of the car I do remember being escorted to the house and even having the spare key fetched so I wouldn't make to much noise, I was later reminded of my passionate speech of adoration, confessing my love for Grant and how he is a great friend and so on and so on.


THE NEXT MORNING

"Good morning pumpkin"

"groan"

"Breakfast is on if you want some"

"groan"

"Hey kiddo, I don't suppose you know where Kevin is do you?"

"how the hell should I know wher...wait what?"


It was Angela, Angela looking for Kev. Why you ask? lets recap.

Remember the whole Tim being locked out and Grant having to jig the fly screen and help his drunken ass through the window. well there is a simple and logical explanation for that....IT WASN'T HIS HOUSE and remember my being escorted to the door...aha yeah, again a simple explanation IT WASN'T MY HOUSE. Ang was looking for Kev because Kev was MIA and in his stead was a pants less free loader passed out on her lounge, nothing says good morning like an unconscious, half naked intruder.


Grant had a plan:

Our designated friend had some how managed to not only drop us all of at each others houses but to keep us entertained long enough for us to not catch on to the whole devious plot. Naturally all of this amused Angela to no end, to which she took great delight in analysing the work and genius involved in pulling something like this off.

"He even got your pants...how did he get your pants? that's..well that's just incredible?"

"Look I dont know"

"well lets retrace your steps so you were wearing pants when he dropped you off yes?, walked you to the door with pants, lead you to the couch pants still in tact and then left sometime later with pants nowhere to be seen... hhmm what could possibly have happened, what indeed?"

"HA fucking HA, that's right you got me, Im a gay man. As gay as they come, very clever."

"Hey tell it to the pants Kiddo"

"are you not even remotely concerned that your husband didn't come home last night? maybe he's missing his pants to if yah no what I mean, eehh, wink wink, eehh say no more, say no more"

"Tell you what you look cold, very cold (giggle) I'll go get you the latest in leg warming technology"

leaving the room babbling to herself about something I suggested that she should probably call her new found hero to find out the where abouts of her husband if she ever wanted to see him alive again. Still marvelling in the deceitful genius that is Grant, she made her way to the phone returning several minutes later phone in hand and more importantly pants in the other. Standing in the patented phone to ear position I noticed a slight grin forming.

"What?"

"Its for you"

"what?"

"I'm pretty sure its for you"

She restated, whilst passing the phone to me smile now beaming from ear to ear. The phone had gone to voicemail and the leave a message after the beep had been replaced with a 3 min period of Grant in utter hysterics laughing and cackling as if he had just successfully stolen Christmas, jokes aside that was a nice touch. It took almost a week to get in contact with him on account of him deciding to not change his voice mail and let every call from us go to it but eventually he broke the silence.

"Hey man whats happening tonight?"

"Grant? that you?"

"Ah yeah man! whats wrong with you!? so where we headed?"

"Wow this is definitely unexpected I mean,I..I..I don't know what to say"

"how about a little information, like where we are going tonight, might be an idea"

"I'm just not sure I can trust again"

"Why!? did something happen?, whats up?"

"Well its about the pants I ... I want them back!"

"Those pants were a gift they belong to me now"

"But But"

"Its time to let go, they've gone to a better place"

"I hate you!"

"what?"

"you I hate you"

"oh o.k"



Grant is a Dick: