Dead Drunk: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse... One Beer at a Time Read Online Free PDF Page B

to sing an Elvis song in a
way that he could only describe as perfect. The voice that rang out over the
speakers was as thick and velvety as the King of Rock himself. Charlie turned
to see who was putting on such a solid performance.
    The homeless-looking man swaying with the melody was dressed
in tattered jean shorts and sported a long, brown beard. It was Big Rob.
    “What the shit?” Vidu said.
    The three-hundred pound fighter finished the song to raucous
cheers. Then he bowed low for a standing ovation and promptly fell face first
off the stage onto a table, smashing it in half and sending drinks flying. It
was time to leave .

Chapter
6
    The Sugar Shack
     
    “Brains… brains!”
    Big Rob opened his eyes to see a scrotum dangling
dangerously close to his forehead. He was conscious just long enough to shove
Blake halfway across the limo. This set up a chain reaction where Blake fell
into Smokey’s lit cigarette while crashing to the floor, tipping over two full
beer cans on the way.
    The driver pounded on the steering wheel. “You’re going to
clean that up.”
    Not one of the drunks paid any attention, and Blake rubbed
the burn on his arm while pulling his pants up. “How many shots did Rob have
anyways?”
    “I lost track after ten,”
Jim said. “And that’s on top of the two pitchers that I bought, and the beer he
was stealing when people weren’t paying attention.”
    “I thought my beer was going down smooth,” Charlie said. Big
Rob had learned to fish for drinks on a trip to Panama City years ago and
apparently still had the skill.
    “He’s too drunk to go in,” Bruce said while eying the
sleeping giant.
    “Are you gonna stop him?” Charlie replied. Rob was
shit-faced, but after seeing him flick Blake across the limo like a stale
booger, it was clear he was still dangerous.
    Left-Nut grew impatient. “All I know is I need to see some
tits and I need to see ‘em now.”
    “I swear you’re just a dick with legs,” Mike said.
    Jim smiled. “Sounds like Gay Mike’s talking about dicks once
again.”
    They finally arrived at their last destination, a seedy
strip club called The Sugar Shack. The driver had reached the end of his
patience. “Get the hell out!”
    They had no choice but to bring Rob in, so they woke him up
and left the trashed vehicle amidst the sound of half-empty beer bottles
clanking onto the pavement. The driver flipped them off and peeled away into
the night. Now they’d have to cab it home later, but their thoughts were
elsewhere as they lurched towards the sleaziest spot in Chi-town.
    Charlie helped his
unsteady friend across the parking lot. “When we get in, sit down, drink some
water and shut up.”
    The club itself featured a cheesy laser show, black lights
and a sleazy deejay screaming while stark-naked women sold lap dances. It was a
place where you could get anything for the right price, which, according to
Left-Nut, was around fifty dollars. “Now this is what I’m talking about,” he
said while finally entering his element.
    Cliff and Bruce started flashing money around by ordering
thirty-dollar shots of tequila and a bottle of Dom for the bachelor. Cash was
king, and within minutes, they were swarmed by a handful of teenage strippers.
    With a skinny eighteen year old on his lap, Cliff decided it
was time to put the peasants in their place. He looked at Vidu with a sneer.
“So, Osama, how’s the jihad going?”
    Vidu’s eyes glazed over. “Fuck your mother, you little son
of a…”
    Charlie put himself between them. “Why are you being such a
dickhole? We’re just trying to have fun.” Vidu was a turd, but he was their
turd.
    Cliff scoffed. “I don’t need a lecture from a substitute
teacher. I make more money by March than you make all year. You’re as pathetic
as these other losers.”
    “Guys, not now,” Blake said.
    But Charlie had already lost it. “Okay fatty, how about I
take you outside and stomp a mud hole in your ass?” It took a lot to