Cindy and Jacque knew Benny from sixth form. He was the school’s local cannabis dealer, and a friendly lad with a keen interest in trying anything which could get him high. Jacque did regular Prefect Duty at lunch times, to which the school provided him with free dinner tickets (to spend in the canteen) in return. He of course used them as currency and often swapped them with Benny for bags of weed.
Benny lived in a family of hippies and often threw the kind of wild parties that only the really fun people were invited to. He paid special attention to detail in his bedroom, setting up the trippiest of ambiances so that everyone was insured a safe and happy trip. His walls were covered in cannabis related posters and rave stickers. There were countless funky and colourful lights set up in various corners of every room, and his bedrooms ceiling was covered in plastic glow in the dark stars. Throughout every party thrown here there was a never ending flow of drum and bass.
One Saturday night, Benny threw one of his unforgettable shindigs. Cindy and Jacque were of course members of the guest list. They arrived, armed with two bottles of cherry Lambrini each, with their two other girlfriends Laurel and Sammi. By midnight, the party was in full swing, and so were most of the guests’ jaws. After a while Cindy and Jacque noticed that both Laurel and Sammi had done a disappearing act. Laurel momentarily stumbled out of Benny’s parent’s bedroom with her weave looking crazy. As it turned out, she had been engaged in sexual relations with one of Benny’s friends. As Cindy and Jacque approached her to get the details and congratulate her, she sprinted out of the front door. They then found her in front of the house, in a pile on her knees in the road, crying.
“I’m a T dot ramp!” Laurel screamed into the darkness.
“What? Who the hell is Tina Ramp?!” cried Jacque, in a drunken confused mess. It took the pair a while to understand and then comfort their hysterical friend, who was immediately regretting her actions.
“I’m such a tramp! We started dry humping and he spunked in his boxers before anything could even happen!” explained Laurel, which was received by her friends as the most hilarious revelation ever. As they were cheering up Laurel and convincing her to come back inside, the group noticed a steamy car parked up by the house. To their enjoyment, there were two fat people going at it in the back of a Nissan Micra. As they crept closer, trying not to make a sound, they recognised a recognisable lump of badly fake tanned tattooed skin.
“That’s Sammi in that car,” whispered Jacque. The three were not surprised, and after being repulsed for a while, they slowly walked arm in arm back into the party. Cindy and Jacque fed Laurel more Lambrini and she quickly forgot her sexual sorrows.
At some random morning hour, Jacque and Cindy ran giggling into the only bathroom of the house, clutching a blue WKD bottle. They hastily sat on the floor in a corner and took it in turns to swig from the bottle, laughing at their pathetic find. The door flung violently open, and the pair jumped. A barely upright Laurel was leaning on the door, head in her boobs. She took a few moments to work out how to lock the door and then fell onto the toilet seat. Her eyes were glazed over and she was not even aware of the presence of her friends. Cindy immediately needed to urinate at this moment, and pulled down her knickers and pissed over the side of the bath, whilst Jacque hid the now empty WKD in the dirty laundry basket. Still waiting for Laurel to finish, the bored fag and his hag Cindy started looking through the bathroom cabinet.
“Hurry up Laurel, what are you having a shit?” Joked Jacque, at their half-passed out friend. He sniffed loudly towards her and suddenly realised,
“Wait.. You are!” he cried. Immediately the pair panicked, trapped in the bathroom with their shitting friend. Stuffed into the bathroom corner, they had unwillingly won first row seats to a live scat show. Trying to get out, flustering and floundering drunkenly like a pair of fish out of water, Jacque struggled to unlock the door whilst Cindy raided the cabinet, throwing tampons and toothbrushes everywhere. She found a spray can, thinking it was air freshener and immediately started spraying it everywhere around the room.
“That’s fake tan!” yelled Jacque, as he finally managed to unlock and open the door. They gasped for fresh air. The bathroom now looked (and smelt) like a bowel had exploded in there. At this moment the semiconscious Laurel stood up, pulled up her knickers and walked casually past them and back into the party, leaving a traumatised Cindy and Jacque staring after her. They silently walked back onto the dance floor, looking deeply uncomfortable. At this point, Sammi came bounding up to them casually munching a bag of Haribo as if nothing had happened in the Nissan Micra on the door step.
Twenty minutes later Jacque was stood at the top of the wooden stairs. He looked to his right, and could see Laurel down the end of the corridor vomiting out of Benny’s bedroom window. He looked down and saw a drunken Cindy in a stupor at the bottom of the stairs laughing, saying,
“Oh look, I fell…”. He looked to his left and Sammi was still indulging on the bag of Haribo telling everyone how her “fanny hurt”. It was time for Jacque to take his bitches home. From that day on, if ever anyone was having a dump, it would be referred to as “having a Laurel”.
Words by Loo Loo Rose
Originally published in ‘ROUGH UK Magazine’