A few years ago my friends and I presented ourselves at a friend’s 2-keg party – affectionately christened a kegger – in lofty spirits. As custom, we contended in eternal beer pong and flip cup battles. One of the hosts (our beloved friend) passed out in the hallway, complete with pillow and blanket. Twenty paces away lay his bed. We elected to be exceptional revelers. We embellished his face with red permanent pen. Another friend had recently procured a dog, whom we entitled Bubba. We scrawled “Bubba” across his forehead, “Filthy” (a nickname... not his nickname) transversely on his cheek, some additional gibberish, and fashioned his lips in red lipstick (aka red permanent marker). After continued late-night festivities, we ultimately absconded back to our residences, host’s ornamented face forgotten.
The following afternoon he called us, decidedly displeased. He had awoken that morning late for work. Lacking time, he dashed to his car in the previous night’s attire and launched his car down the street. Almost to work, he glimpsed his Bubba-Filthy-red-lipsticked face in his review mirror. Removing marker endeavors futile, he seized a hat from his backseat, dragged it low over his face, and exited his car for work. His job: valet.
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