by my drunken friend. Walking home from a gig, I spot an ailing figure in the middle of the road hurling his stomach acid out. Being the supportive type, I drag his legless ass back to his flat where he invites me in for a cheese sandwich.
So I say I'll go up to make sure he doesn't die on the stairs or something in that vein, when he stumbles into the kitchen and opens his fridge. Half way through slapping a cheese/onion mixture onto a slice of Kingsmill I bid goodbye and head for the door, only for my mate to throw a solid palm infront of me, blocking my exit and shutting the door at the same time.
And so follows about ten minutes of conversation along the lines of this:
Me: 'I don't like cheese and onion, I want to go home'
Mate: 'Look mate, just eat it. YOUR A GUEST I WILL BE OFFENDED! EAT IT!'
In the end I cave in and munch down the butty, even if it tastes like crap. Tail between my legs, I run home. And i was only trying to help
Still, he is a legend, so I can't hold it against him. He won't remember a thing tomorrow either. Wreckhead. Put a smile on my face.
How have you been anyway?