Mardi Gras
While it may seem
like this would be an easy topic, it proved more difficult than expected. All I knew when this topic was chosen was
that it had to be about a virgin nerd.
Initially I had planned on the main character being a female, but with
the ending I had in mind it would have proven to be too dark, and I wanted to
lighten the mood after my previous entry.
“I can’t believe I didn’t
want to come here!” Mark says as he leans over the shoulder of one of his
friends. “Thank you for convincing me to come, best birthday ever!”
Not amused at Mark
interrupting his conversation with a girl, his friend tells Mark “Go hit on
some girls.”
Not needing any further
prompts, Mark shouts to a nearby girl, “Show me your tits!” with no beads in
hand. Following a look of disgust the
girl unsurprisingly walks away. “Fucking prude, go back to Idaho.” Mark uses the same line on the next five
girls he sees; three of which oblige.
Finding his best friend,
Hank, at a bar two doors away, Mark runs up to him. While standing between Hank and the girl he
was talking to, he exclaims “I’ve seen thirty five tits today! How great is New
Orleans, man? Why are you just standing here alone?”
Looking over Mark’s
shoulder, Hank sees that the girl has walked away. “Have you talked to any
girls Mark? We’ve been here for nearly a week and all of us have gotten laid.”
Feeling his buzz slowly
die down, Mark sheepishly answers, “Come one Hank, you know I can’t talk to
girls like that, I’m too shy.”
“Back home maybe, but you
also wouldn’t tell a girl to show you her tits back home; you wouldn’t even
drink back home.” Waiting for his
comments to sink in, Hank then continues “This is Mardi Gras, you don’t have to
be the Mark who puked from non-alcoholic beer.
You can be the Mark who loses his virginity.” Seeing that Mark is catching on, Hank
enthusiastically adds, “You don’t even have to be Mark, you can be Pilot Dan,
Firefighter Bill, or Tom ‘fuckin’ Cruise, but that might not help anymore. This is Mardi Gras and you can be anyone, so
why the fuck are you talking to me?”
As if he was just prepped
for war, Mark screams a primal yell then turns and runs… right into a six foot
three bouncer built like a tank.
In a deep yet
nonthreatening voice the bouncer warns, “Easy there killer.”
Unphased by the ebony
mountain of man, Mark defiantly shouts, “This is my birthday, this is now my
bar, I don’t have to take it easy!”
Seeing the exchange, it
is now Hank’s turn to step in between, “I’m sorry sir, he doesn’t usually
drink. I’ll go lock him in his room for the rest of the trip.”
Pulling Mark away from
the bouncer by the collar of his shirt, “Dude, you clearly got the wrong
message. When I said you can be anyone,
I didn’t mean you’re suddenly a seven foot tall black belt who can take on the
black Hercules guarding this place. I meant you can lie to girls to get laid.”
Defeated Mark
acknowledges Hank’s reasoning and exits the bar through a door the bouncer is
far away from. “I need to get laid.” Walking on the famed Bourbon St he’s
quickly distracted by the novelty of legally walking in public while holding a
drink. “The whole world should be like this.”
Paying more attention to
his diminishing drink then where he’s going, Mark ventures off of Bourbon St.,
something his friends warned him about.
Content in his stupor Mark travels away from the festive lights and
sounds. The further he walks the sparser
the people on the street get, until he comes to a group of youths walking in
the middle of the street.
No paying them any mind,
Mark continues walking undeterred when the silence is broken. “Hey cracker, you
a long way from the party, eh?”
***
Mark
wakes up the following afternoon by the jostling of his friend, “Hey man, wake
up! What happened to you?”
Wiping the sleep out of
his eyes, Mark replies with a condescending tone, “Obviously I had a great
time, I don’t remember a thing.”
“Listen douche, something’s
wrong. You’re bleeding, looks like you
got the shit kicked out of you.” Hank practically carries Mark to the mirror to
reveal the many lacerations on his face and upper body. “Someone beat the beat
your ass but didn’t take your wallet or money, so you must have pissed them
off.”
With concern in his voice
Mark barely manages to utter, “I don’t know what happened. Last I remember, we
were eating dinner.”
“Shit man that was 10
o’clock, fourteen hours ago. I didn’t
think someone could black out for that long.”
Panicked, Mark exclaims,
“We need to go to the police.”
“And say what?” Hank
rationalizes the situation, “You got beat up for reasons unknown, by a person
or group of people you can’t identify somewhere in the city. Your injuries aren’t that bad, and nothing
was stolen.”
“Where are my glasses?”
Hank squeezes the bridge
of his nose, “Probably in a pool of your blood.” We leave tomorrow afternoon,
just survive today and you’ll be fine.”
Pulling a shirt from a shopping bag, he tosses it to Mark, “One of the
guys hot you this, thinks it’ll help you get laid.”
Mark holds up the white
t-shirt and reads aloud, “Still a virgin, Please help.” Crumpling it up he
scoffs, “That’s so gay.”
“Wear it or not either
way just be careful today. I’ve got a date with a bartender so I won’t be able
to babysit you.”
***
Three bottles of
electrolyte filled sports drinks and a half hour shower later Mark has just
begun to regain his bearings. Even
knowing Hank was right about being more careful tonight, he took exception to
the way he said it. “I’m twenty-one now,
I haven’t needed a babysitter since I was sixteen.”
Deciding he was going to
teach his friend a lesson in respecting the new Mark, he drinks the remaining
four beers and half bottle of orange flavored vodka in the hotel room. Reinvigorated by the hair of the dog, Mark
tries to map out his plans for his final night in Paradise. He knows his only goal has to be to finally
get laid.
Emerging from his room at
ten Mark joins most of the friends for dinner ad is already more drunk than any
of them would like. Not wanting to have
to care for him they all promptly finish their dinner and head out on their
own, leaving Mark to pay the bill.
An hour later Mark is
walking along Bourbon St still complaining about dinner, ignoring the many
flashers along his way. That is until he
collides with a large woman with even larger breasts. Amazed at the size of the
tits he just accidentally touched, Mark isn’t even aware that he split his
drink. Either too drunk or too happy,
the woman wasn’t upset at all. “Don’t worry about it cutie, just look where
you’re going.” The woman jovially says with a pat on Mark’s butt.
Happy with the compliment
and semi-sexual touch, the anger leaves Mark, the alcohol does not. Ignoring the advice he enters the closest bar
without looking where he was going. The
alcohol renders Mark unable to identify the multicolored flag that’s all over
the door and interior of the bar on the corner of Bourbon St. and St. Pete St.
Although the bar had more
guys than Mark would have liked, they were all friendly and the girls their
seemed to be having a god time. He
figures it’s worth staying for a couple of drinks.
Befriending a group of
guys and explains he needs to lose his virginity hoping they could be of more
use than his friends.
***
***
Mark will wake up the
following morning to discover that his new friends did in fact help pop his
cherry, however perhaps not in the way he intended.
“I can’t believe I didn’t
want to come here!” Mark says as he leans over the shoulder of one of his
friends. “Thank you for convincing me to come, best birthday ever!”
Not amused at Mark
interrupting his conversation with a girl, his friend tells Mark “Go hit on
some girls.”
Not needing any further
prompts, Mark shouts to a nearby girl, “Show me your tits!” with no beads in
hand. Following a look of disgust the
girl unsurprisingly walks away. “Fucking prude, go back to Idaho.” Mark uses the same line on the next five
girls he sees; three of which oblige.
Finding his best friend,
Hank, at a bar two doors away, Mark runs up to him. While standing between Hank and the girl he
was talking to, he exclaims “I’ve seen thirty five tits today! How great is New
Orleans, man? Why are you just standing here alone?”
Looking over Mark’s
shoulder, Hank sees that the girl has walked away. “Have you talked to any
girls Mark? We’ve been here for nearly a week and all of us have gotten laid.”
Feeling his buzz slowly
die down, Mark sheepishly answers, “Come one Hank, you know I can’t talk to
girls like that, I’m too shy.”
“Back home maybe, but you
also wouldn’t tell a girl to show you her tits back home; you wouldn’t even
drink back home.” Waiting for his
comments to sink in, Hank then continues “This is Mardi Gras, you don’t have to
be the Mark who puked from non-alcoholic beer.
You can be the Mark who loses his virginity.” Seeing that Mark is catching on, Hank
enthusiastically adds, “You don’t even have to be Mark, you can be Pilot Dan,
Firefighter Bill, or Tom ‘fuckin’ Cruise, but that might not help anymore. This is Mardi Gras and you can be anyone, so
why the fuck are you talking to me?”
As if he was just prepped
for war, Mark screams a primal yell then turns and runs… right into a six foot
three bouncer built like a tank.
In a deep yet
nonthreatening voice the bouncer warns, “Easy there killer.”
Unphased by the ebony
mountain of man, Mark defiantly shouts, “This is my birthday, this is now my
bar, I don’t have to take it easy!”
Seeing the exchange, it
is now Hank’s turn to step in between, “I’m sorry sir, he doesn’t usually
drink. I’ll go lock him in his room for the rest of the trip.”
Pulling Mark away from
the bouncer by the collar of his shirt, “Dude, you clearly got the wrong
message. When I said you can be anyone,
I didn’t mean you’re suddenly a seven foot tall black belt who can take on the
black Hercules guarding this place. I meant you can lie to girls to get laid.”
Defeated Mark
acknowledges Hank’s reasoning and exits the bar through a door the bouncer is
far away from. “I need to get laid.” Walking on the famed Bourbon St he’s
quickly distracted by the novelty of legally walking in public while holding a
drink. “The whole world should be like this.”
Paying more attention to
his diminishing drink then where he’s going, Mark ventures off of Bourbon St.,
something his friends warned him about.
Content in his stupor Mark travels away from the festive lights and
sounds. The further he walks the sparser
the people on the street get, until he comes to a group of youths walking in
the middle of the street.
No paying them any mind,
Mark continues walking undeterred when the silence is broken. “Hey cracker, you
a long way from the party, eh?”
***
Mark
wakes up the following afternoon by the jostling of his friend, “Hey man, wake
up! What happened to you?”
Wiping the sleep out of
his eyes, Mark replies with a condescending tone, “Obviously I had a great
time, I don’t remember a thing.”
“Listen douche, something’s
wrong. You’re bleeding, looks like you
got the shit kicked out of you.” Hank practically carries Mark to the mirror to
reveal the many lacerations on his face and upper body. “Someone beat the beat
your ass but didn’t take your wallet or money, so you must have pissed them
off.”
With concern in his voice
Mark barely manages to utter, “I don’t know what happened. Last I remember, we
were eating dinner.”
“Shit man that was 10
o’clock, fourteen hours ago. I didn’t
think someone could black out for that long.”
Panicked, Mark exclaims,
“We need to go to the police.”
“And say what?” Hank
rationalizes the situation, “You got beat up for reasons unknown, by a person
or group of people you can’t identify somewhere in the city. Your injuries aren’t that bad, and nothing
was stolen.”
“Where are my glasses?”
Hank squeezes the bridge
of his nose, “Probably in a pool of your blood.” We leave tomorrow afternoon,
just survive today and you’ll be fine.”
Pulling a shirt from a shopping bag, he tosses it to Mark, “One of the
guys hot you this, thinks it’ll help you get laid.”
Mark holds up the white
t-shirt and reads aloud, “Still a virgin, Please help.” Crumpling it up he
scoffs, “That’s so gay.”
“Wear it or not either
way just be careful today. I’ve got a date with a bartender so I won’t be able
to babysit you.”
***
Three bottles of
electrolyte filled sports drinks and a half hour shower later Mark has just
begun to regain his bearings. Even
knowing Hank was right about being more careful tonight, he took exception to
the way he said it. “I’m twenty-one now,
I haven’t needed a babysitter since I was sixteen.”
Deciding he was going to
teach his friend a lesson in respecting the new Mark, he drinks the remaining
four beers and half bottle of orange flavored vodka in the hotel room. Reinvigorated by the hair of the dog, Mark
tries to map out his plans for his final night in Paradise. He knows his only goal has to be to finally
get laid.
Emerging from his room at
ten Mark joins most of the friends for dinner ad is already more drunk than any
of them would like. Not wanting to have
to care for him they all promptly finish their dinner and head out on their
own, leaving Mark to pay the bill.
An hour later Mark is
walking along Bourbon St still complaining about dinner, ignoring the many
flashers along his way. That is until he
collides with a large woman with even larger breasts. Amazed at the size of the
tits he just accidentally touched, Mark isn’t even aware that he split his
drink. Either too drunk or too happy,
the woman wasn’t upset at all. “Don’t worry about it cutie, just look where
you’re going.” The woman jovially says with a pat on Mark’s butt.
Happy with the compliment
and semi-sexual touch, the anger leaves Mark, the alcohol does not. Ignoring the advice he enters the closest bar
without looking where he was going. The
alcohol renders Mark unable to identify the multicolored flag that’s all over
the door and interior of the bar on the corner of Bourbon St. and St. Pete St.
Although the bar had more
guys than Mark would have liked, they were all friendly and the girls their
seemed to be having a god time. He
figures it’s worth staying for a couple of drinks.
Befriending a group of
guys and explains he needs to lose his virginity hoping they could be of more
use than his friends.
***
***
Mark will wake up the
following morning to discover that his new friends did in fact help pop his
cherry, however perhaps not in the way he intended.
