I lay in the back of Frank's work truck and I'm hammered. Well, it's not so much a truck as a work van, the kind with two big doors in the back and shelves inside it, and it's loaded with tools and such.
I wasn't the only one who needed a ride, and I was by far the drunkest. So what does Frank do? Puts me in the back. Good fucking move, Frank, put the dumb drunk in the back of the van with a bunch of toys.
I lay quiet for a couple minutes. And then I got antsy.
I started playing with something that looked like a huge compass, and found the knob that turned it on and made a screeching beeping noise. Laughing at this like only a drunk could, I asked Frank what this thing did.
"Put that down you fucking drunk, that's worth more than your life."
"Nope. I wanna play with it."
I lost interest in that though, and evidently started looking for an aerosol can. I know how I think when I drink, and I'm positive I was thinking about making a torch out of it with my lighter. Frank heard me shaking the can from the front though, and started yelling at me again.
"Put that fucking spray paint down."
"What spray paint?" I said with a grin, all the while hearing that marble in the can bounce around as I shook it.
With that, Frank slammed on the breaks, and a torque wrench came barreling forward from the back of the truck and careened into my head.
"Ooooh FUCK! Ahh, right in the fucking ear man! Oh that fucking hurts!" I yelled as I lay squirming in pain on the floor of the van. With that I lost it.
Apparently screaming, "You motherfucker", I started spraying the paint all over the back of the truck, painting it a nice sky blue color. In retribution, Frank started whipping around turns...which started to make many large pieces of metal start falling off the shelves and onto my defenseless form. Another tool hit me in the knee, making me drop the spray paint and curl into the "I'm getting stomped" position, covering my head and neck and praying that no more seriously heavy shit fell onto me.
By the time we got to my house, I couldn't hear out of my left ear, my knee was swollen, and the inside of Frank's van was a hue of blue. After pulling me out of the truck and verbally reinforcing the fact that I was indeed "a fucking drunk", he let me stumble up to my house to have my whiskey induced drunken lullabies.