On Friday, Matt met Gerald and I at the remote lot after work. There was this bar nearby with a mechanical bull Gerald wanted to check out, and Matt didn't want to miss out on the action.

We got there a little after 7, and there was already an hour and a half wait to ride the bull. Some guy was on it that must have weighed 300 pounds. I wasn't sure how long the bull would hold out.

The bartender told us to take a number and we'd be called up when it was our turn.

We managed to get a table with a view of the bull. Matt kept ordering pitcher after pitcher, filling up our glasses before we could finish.

I guess he's not secure enough in his alcoholism to get drunk by himself.

After about a half an hour, Gerald came to the table with Reynaldo and his girlfriend, Marcia. I guess he had run into them at the bar.

Marcia was at least 10 years older than Reynaldo, and worked as a correctional officer at a county jail. Matt kept asking her to tell stories. Most of them involved the phone and/or poo.

Reynaldo was pretty quiet the whole time.

At some point Matt ordered shots of Jack Daniels for everyone. I find the sensation of drinking Jack Daniels akin to forcing a cactus down my esophagus.

I'd rather he bought me a punch in the face.

I forced mine down and everyone except for Reynaldo finished theirs in one gulp. Reynaldo sat taking measured sips of it as if it was a glass of iced tea.

Marcia was showing Matt how to perform a thumb hold no one could get out of when Gerald's number was called. The bull was in the center of this wide pen with padding on the bottom, and everyone was hooting and hollering as Gerald walked out.

He started playing up the crowd, pointing his finger up in the air and such. Based on their condition, I think Gerald could have been out there to operate a wet/dry vac and gotten the same response.

Gerald seemed to do pretty well the first minute or so, and gave the guy operating the thing a signal to crank it up. He did.

The bull jerked a little faster, and swung Gerald forward just fast enough to meet the front as it was coming up with his nose. You could see a blur of red, which turned out to be Gerald's face when the thing slowed down.

Everyone went "oooo" at the same time. Reynaldo said he should have stayed relaxed over the bull's center of gravity.

Gerald got off and someone came out to meet him with a cloth filled with ice and then walked on to spray his blood off the bull. He tried to act unphased, but you can only play it so cool after your face explodes in front of everyone.

We decided to leave after that.

Gerald had driven that day, and when we got back to the remote lot he realized he had lost his keys. He said they must have fallen out on the bull, and he didn't want to have to go back in and walk out in the middle of the crowd to get them.

Matt asked why there was a car covered in garbage in the corner of the lot, and we told him it had been there for a week or so now.

Gerald was pushing for me to go back in the bar and get his keys for him. I told him we should probably call a cab anyways, seeing as we were all drinking. I was really more concerned with not looking like an asshole stopping everyone's mechanical bulll fun while I searched through the creases in the padding for Gerald's keys, but I made a far better point with the drinking thing.

We went back and forth on this for a minute or so, and we heard a car start up. We looked over and Gerald's garbage car was backing out of its spot towards us with Matt behind the wheel.

Apparently, Matt doesn't need keys to start a car.

Gerald looked walked around and said "See? Problem solved!" before getting in. As if nothing could possibly go wrong with three inebriated people and a stolen automobile covered in trash.

Before heading home, Matt thought it would be a good idea to hit McDonalds and then ram some shopping carts in a supermarket parking lot.

When it turned out the lot was icy, he opted to do doughnuts.

Gerald and Matt cackled in the front seat as the car spun around. The cackling stopped when the rear of the car slammed into the concrete base of a lightpost.

We all flew to the driver's side of the car. Gerald's leg had somehow wedged it's way in between Matt's underneath the steering wheel, but none of us were hurt.

I looked back and saw the trunk had popped open, and then felt like I was going to get sick.

I tried to get out of the car to puke, but the driver's side door was broken and I ended up letting loose all over the floor of the car. Gerald and Matt got out to assess the damage.

When I got out Gerald and Matt were looking at the trunk. The whole frame had been bent in so the door wouldn't shut.

In the trunk was a big crate that said:

FRAGILE
STEAK KNIVES

I've never heard of a fragile steak knife.

Matt said we ought to take the car to the remote lot an park it where we found it. He said it would look like someone hit the car while it was parked and took off.

He called his girlfriend and asked her to meet us there.

When we got there, Matt started moving the box of steak knives out of the trunk. He said they'd probably get stolen if they were left there, and we could keep them at our place until the owner came forward.

He also said he knew someone who could move them if no one showed up to claim them.

The box was really long, and Gerald and I had to lay it across our lap for the whole ride. It was pretty heavy and smelled like old leaves.

When we got home, Matt asked if I could keep the box in my closet. He was keeping a slushy machine in his.