Lost In Seattle

My bro, Mini Pacquiao and I were out hunting.

We got the bling and the Calvin Klein cologne sprayed on so thick... You'd swear we were glowing. But nah, that's just my CK's Seduction, bitch.

We loaded up on the Hen, bought a ticket just to fucking park, then called an Uber.

It's game time.

We watched random girls, as they walked by. Made faces at them, talking shit, just a good time.

Like a pack of wild monkeys, but, who's to judge.

I can't remember what club we went to. It must have been good, if I can't remember! It has to be, the Rhino Room. I'm sure.

The club wasn't the fun part, anyway. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I was having one of those nights, where, I just wasn't feeling it. Even shots couldn't get me in the party mood. So, my night sucked.

As I was leaving the club, I look at my phone. Shit! It's almost dead.

Bro, how is your phone? I'm gonna turn mine off. It's gonna die and we gotta Uber back.

"Nah, brah. We good! I got plenty of battery"

Alrighty then, I will Uber us to our local, late night, shitty, Chinese restaurant. You get the ride back, then.

I fearlessly, call an Uber.

While enjoying dinner. I look around. There were like... zero girls here. Just a bunch of... sadness.

Tonight is just, shitty. I couldn't wait to get home.

I see Mini Pacquiao, playing around on his phone.

Are you REALLY sure, that, you got enough juice to get us back? My phone died on the way here. You are the only one, with a phone.

"We guuuudddd bro!"

Hmm... for some reason, my gut was screaming at me. Maybe the pink, squishy shit knew. This drunk-ass was gonna get us all stranded. With a bunch of hipsters, out "vibing". Me, my strangely wise intestines and Mini Pacquiao.

Please don't do this to me, God! I promise, I will never be an asshole again. Please let me make it home and get far, far away from this asshole.

So we paid for our food, boxed everything up, then stood up.

Call the Uber!

"Okay bro, I gotchu."

We look, nervously, at the phone. "Searching... searching... searching..." Ah, there we go, someone accepted our request. It looks like, we got a Prius and their license pla -- are you serious?

DUDE, YOUR PHONE DIED!

We both rush outside and wait, hopefully, everything went through. And our magical Prius will show up, to save our ass.

10 minutes went by, no one showed...

So, both our phones are dead, we don't know how to get back and it is 4AM. Fucked, doesn't even begin to describe the shit we're in.

So we start walking, it can' be that far can it? All I remember, was that, we parked on 8th street. Maybe if we kept walking, maybe, we will find a street that is in sequence. Then, all we gotta do is follow it until it counts up to 8, we GUD!

So we walked and walked and walked.

We run into a local hipster, at an intersection. Mini Pacquiao ran up and asked for directions, hopefully, this is our ticket home.

"Yeah sure guys! You are here *Points at phone*. Just walk along this way, then go all the way blah blah blah."

Alright! We got some direction. We thank our hipster savior and start walking again. As I looked back, I saw a taxi pull up and our friend got inside.

WTF, that asshole got a taxi!?

Goddam hipsters, I hate them all.

As the asshole hipster rode by us, in that comfy taxi, we kept walking. Hoping to see the street, that asshole, said would eventually come up.

It never showed up.

WE ARE GONNA BE STUCK OUT HERE, IN FUCKING SEATTLE, FOR EVER!

"Yes, I know. Sorry Leo!"

You BETTER BE FUCKING SORRY!

After a while, I saw the Columbia Tower getting closer and closer. You know it's the Columbia Tower, by, it's ring of lights. They change color, flash... All the cool stuff, that, only rich corporate assholes can afford.

Light bulb!

From our car, I remember seeing the tower and it was quite far away. 

We've been walking AWAY from our car, the ENTIRE time!

"That asshole gave us the wrong directions."

Or we're retarded, but, that can never be true. Fuck hipsters.

So we hatched a new plan...

Turn our back to the tower and start walking. We know we're in the general area, because, we can see the freeway, we used to get here. Just got to follow that, while traveling due thefuckknowswhere. 

And we should be back at our car?

"Might as well."

Eventually, we found a hospital. Still no car in sight.

"Dude, lets go inside and ask for directions."

Sure, why the fuck not. We don't have any other option. Good thing its summer or we'd be dead by now.

They'd find us frozen and naked (cause all our shit be stolen).
We slowly walked our helpless, drunk, beaten asses, through the sliding door. Our left overs still in hand.

The lady at the front desk, looked at us like with great pity.

Yes, you are right. Pity us.

And can you call us a fucking Uber.

Pacquiao walked up to the security booth. And begged for direction.

Hopefully this time, we get some good directions. But, you know, assholes be fucking assholes.

"Sure!"

Said the security, who obviously eats, at least, a dozen donuts a day. You know the old saying, a box of donuts a day, keeps the bitches away.

Bro gave us the answers, which, contained the true meaning of life. And guidance for our great journey. 

Said that, our car was about a mile away.

What the hell, we were still walking FUCKING AWAY from the car? Are we this retarded? I guess there is no more hiding the fact, we dumb as fuck.

We scamper out the door, to find Madison street.

Minutes go by.

Hang on, why are we getting closer to tower again. This can't be fucking right. We just headed in a big circle. AWW, FUCK!

Is everyone giving us shit or is there some force out there, fucking with us.

I guess that means, I can keep on being an asshole then.

We walked for another 20 minutes, before, deciding to go back to the hospital. Maybe going the opposite way, is where its at.

Holy fuck, if we don't get it right this time. I'm gonna go back in that hospital, one more time, pop a squat and take a shit. Right there. On the floor.

Maybe they will lock me up, somewhere warm.

Finally, back at the hospital. I don't even know what time it is. But it is getting colder and colder. I was surprised how empty the streets were. No homeless, no gangsters, nobody is out right now.

Except two drunk douches.

Even the cops, called it a night long ago.

We were truly, alone. In one of the busiest cities, in the world.

Interesting.

Now heading the opposite way, from which, we came. All the streets are starting to look the same. 

Dude, WHERE IS THIS FUCKING STREET!? Exhaustion was setting in, but, we had to keep going.

We cannot stop.

Eventually we found an open gas station.

HOLY SHIT! I SEE TAXIS! WE'RE SAVED!

We run over to the gas station, there were like, 5 taxis parked on the street. But, no drivers. Where we are the drivers? I couldn't find anyone.

FUCK YOU, WORLD! I'M GLAD, I'VE BEEN POLLUTING YOUR ASS ALL THESE YEARS! I HOPE YOU FUCKING ENJOYED THE BEER CANS AND GUM WRAPPERS! BITCH!

At this point, I'm ready to steal one of these bitches and drive home, myself.

We go inside the gas station, to see if anyone can help.

We explained the situation to the cashier. Some dude, wearing a big-ass beanie, walked in. And the eavesdropping, impolite mother fucker wearing an oversized winter accessory, in damn summer. Over heard us talking about our night. How we were recreating that movie, Dude, Where's My Car?

There were some dudes, who, looked like they were on Flakka chilling outside. We were inside. And need to navigate the dangerous, drugged out waters, this time.

Options are running out.

"Yeah, I can give you guys a ride back, to your car." Said Beanie.

My, "I'm gonna get raped" sensors, were going full alert. Sirens were blaring and red lights flashed before my eyes. 

Luckily, I was with Mini Pacquiao, who is a big-ass Asian dude. If anything happens, we can take care of business.

I ask Pacquiao...

Are you sure about this?

"Dude, lets just do it, I don't wanna walk anymore."

He got in the front seat.. So I guess I got the back. And... I looked at what I just sat my ass on to.

HOLY SHIT. 

We are for sure gonna get raped, tonight. Our driver was busy smoking and chatting up the cashier.

As we panicked.

Beanie baby was talking... and talking and talking.

Can you hurry up and just get this shit over with, do what you want. I just want to get home...

Fucking motor mouth.

There was a dream-weaver hanging on the rear-view mirror, the seats covered in hippie shit. Like, traditional blankets made with bamboo, grass or some shit. Then, there is the native looking purse, hanging from Pacquiao's seat.

Dude, you see what is behind you?

There is some kind of purse, hanging from your seat, you know that? I'm afraid to look inside, its probably full of sex toys.

We are DEFINITELY gonna get drugged, raped and dumped somewhere.

Or just raped.

Taking a dump, will never be the same again.

I'm never forgiving you Paquiao... just so you know.

End of part one.

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