The Dare

[Please note: this story was written years ago which is why the
Soccer Match cards thing is included!]

'You can.'

'I can't.'

'You can. Bore.'

'No chance!' Did she really think I'd be so thick?

'Oh, go on. C'mon, it's my birthday.'

A typical comment, coming from her. It wasn't her liver becoming slowly
pickled or her who needed a replacement head in the morning. Then
again, with the amount she'd had already, my situation would be
comparatively mild come the dawn. I hoped.

I downed it quickly, shuddering involuntarily. Four quadruple
vodka-and-cokes in twenty minutes. I was proud of myself. Well, for the
moment at least, until I was reduced to a gibbering vegetable in Emma's
kitchen. At least then I could have the first interesting conversation
of the party with the potted begonia on the washer and that would
depend on my being able to navigate my way across the kitchen floor. I
would never make it.

Great laugh this party had been so far: I hardly knew Emma, she was on
my college course and I couldn't stand her. Then again, a party's a
party so I turned up. Things began to look more promising when a group
of really gorgeous lads turned up. I had been steeling myself to walk
over and chat for the last half-hour, so Emma suggested the alcohol as
an aid to losing my inhibitions. Well, she didn't suggest it actually;
it was more of a dare. I hadn't drunk much since the last time I had
streaked half-naked past the church. It was the late New Year's mass,
too. The worst part about it was that the vicar knew my gran and so was
able to blackmail me into a donation for the church organ fund.

I'd been dared to drink a bottle of vodka and now I was feeling the
effects. I tried to focus on the tea-towel bearing a map of Wales but
it was sadly blurred. Marie walked in, grinning inanely, and dragged me
with her to the living room, muttering some gibberish about me being
anti-social. Marie is one of my best mates but she did the wrong thing
then; my stomach protested painfully, a kaleidoscope of colours
unveiled themselves before my eyes and my legs gave up and gravity won.
I was giggling like an idiot and fast approaching the gorgeous group of
males. All I could distinguish at the time was a mass of denim-clad
legs and pale blobs of faces.

Marie was in fractionally better shape than I was - she could walk. Her
speech left much to be desired, though, as she engaged in conversation
with the lovely blokes and left me laughing on the floor.

I felt a pair of hands lift me to a sitting position and a masculine
voice ask if I was alright. I tried to nod but my neck had all the
solidness of a waterbed and my head bobbed crazily everywhere. I
couldn't even see my rescuer's face as he pulled me up the stairs. I
began to feel worried.

'You'd better drink some water,' he said, positioning my head above the
sink. This resulted in my throwing up everywhere. I felt better and
even cleaned up a bit, noticing with amusement that my new friend had
gone. Obviously he had a weak stomach. I wanted to thank him but as I
didn't even know what he looked like I had no chance. I wobbled
downstairs to find that a game of strip poker was in progress.

The party had been going on about an hour now and about thirty people
were crowded into Emma's living room. Her house was nice with the
standard three piece suite, television and stereo. I vaguely wondered
what would happen when her parents came back and saw all the beer, but
dismissed it because I couldn't do anything about it anyway and was too
drunk to care.

Having no embarrassment in the body department I decided to join in the
strip poker game. I was strolling (well, wobbling) over when a familiar
voice said, 'Oh, hiya, er, you alright now?' Prince Charming had
nothing on this bloke. They'd have to award him 'Most Gorgeous Bloke in
the World '2001' then dismiss it as not being enough praise, then award
it him for there being a lack of alternatives. The male
supermodel.

I've always had a thing for blonde hair and this was proper blonde hair
- down to the jawline level. Tall, slim and with a really cute snubby
nose - if I could land him I'd never feel inferior to Kate Moss
again!

'It's just that me and my mates are going to McDonalds - er, do you
wanta come?' he continued, slightly bemused by my adoring gaze. Aware I
was looking like a prat, I hastily agreed, noticing Marie chatting up
another lad.

'I'm Matthew,' he said, by way of introduction and led me over to his
'mates.' In my opinion every one of them should be included in a
female-biased version of 'Baywatch.' I introduced myself and suddenly
we were out in to the night air. It was August, a hot muggy night with
the promise of thunder. The air was stifling and my t-shirt clung to my
back. About fifteen of us, half girls, half boys were heading to
McDonalds. It was too much to expect that the whole journey would pass
without incident. Most of us were drunk - I was, anyway. I could walk
easily but my mind was prompting me to do strange things such as
climbing lampposts.

'Letsch play schtrip poker!' a slurred voice shouted.
'Der, how can you without cards?' a more sober voice answered, as we
walked towards McDonald's. Strange, but every single McDonald's
restaurant can be predicted in both appearance and food. Clones spring
up everywhere and all of a sudden you find fifteen legless teenagers
making car noises while attempting to go to the 'Drive-Thru'
window.

The 'Soccer Match' cards given out in McDonald's proved to be our
downfall as somebody invented a method of playing strip poker. I wasn't
sure of the rules and I didn't do too well at the game but was beyond
caring. Sadly, Matthew had been given the right cards and so any chance
of seeing him exposing flesh had vanished.

Being such a hot night, most of the lads took their tops off and a
couple were just down to their boxers. Girls (me included) were
wandering round in their bras protesting 'it was just like a bikini.'
Several passing motorists tooted their horns and one truck driver even
slowed to shout a comment; stones were hurled in his general direction
but did no damage.

At this point the whole sky lit up in a flash of lightning, a roll of
thunder deafened our shouts and rain fell. Not normal rain in the sense
of an April shower - I mean the kind of rain that feels like a lake has
landed on you. Everyone was soaked in an instant as we ran on down
towards Emma's road.

I would have loved to have been close enough to see the expressions on
their faces as Emma's parents climbed out of the car. The sight of
fifteen soaked and semi-naked teenagers was enough to make her mother
clutch at the car for support. Our expressions of horror deepened as
flashing blue lights stopped behind us and three bewildered policemen
slammed the doors of the car. It was going to be a long night?.

Another dare gone terribly wrong. I vowed to stay teetotal for the rest
of my life.