Byron

After a late night school event, drinks are in order, especially on a Friday night. When co-workers aren't up to the task, I can always count on Byron. One late Friday after school, I went out for a round with Byron at a local sports bar - turned fraternity den. After our first round, we were joined by his girlfriend (his live-in girlfriend). After the second round, we had sent a mass text message. At the sixth round, we had assimilated two more tables and our party had grown to eight. After the seventh round, I made a motion that we needed a Fat Sandwich.

(For anyone unfamiliar with Fat Sandwich, truly a treasure from the gods or Satan him/herself, I'll try my damnedest to convey its greatness. Fat Sandwich is a small shop in the located in the heart of many walking-distance bars. This simple sandwich shop stays open until three in the morning. My personal favorite menu item incorporates gyro meat, chicken fingers, mozzarella sticks, cheese steak, and the French fries, ketchup, mayo come standard in every sandwich.)

After a farewell Irish car-bomb, I take my leave and walk to Fat sandwich. I read a free local paper with my sandwich and drive home.

The next morning, a “good morning” hangover and six text messages were waiting for me to get out of bed. All six were from Byron.

2:39 AM - Dude whyd you leave? You pussy.

2:57 AM - this sucks now. Samantha is being a total bitch. She had too much to drink.

3:49 AM - Fuck I might need to crash at your place tonight.

4:05 AM - I Fucked up bro! Really Fucked up big this time! Oh My God shes going to leave me! I got to fix this shit and you got to help me can I borrow 300 dollars?

4:26 AM - 0 MY FUCKING GOD THIS HURTS SO MUCH!

6:26 AM - This hurts so much! Do you know how much it sucks to cry when you haven't done it in over a decade! I really fucked up big time. She's moving out and I can’t stop her!

Curious and worried, I turned back to bed and went to sleep again. I needed less of a hangover before dealing with this latest escapade.

Trying to piece together the previous night, I had just finished talking with his girlfriend when I said my cheers and finished a car bomb. Despite the group telling me to wait, I left for a sobering and fattening sandwich. Roughly two hours passed from the time I went to bed and receiving the first text message. How could anyone fuck up a friendly night of debauchery to such an extent?
After reviewing the messages, I replied:

10:14 AM - I don't even know where to start. Call Me.

Asking for money, admitting to crying, and fear of losing his girlfriend were all out of character for Byron - imagine a real world incarnation of Peter Griffin and a trucker with the mind of a more crude George Carlin. It was typical that he'd send me reminders that I’m a '"pussy" or alerts that he'd bee crashing at my place for various reasons, but this took his drunk texting to a new level.

My phone rings an hour later. It's Byron.

"I had to walk to work"
"No way"
"Yeah bro. Gimme a ride home?"
"How about a bite?"
“Funny you mention it...”
"What?"
"Never mind. Come get me."

Still feeling bad about last night’s Fat Sandwich, I had a salad and a bloody Mary with Byron.

"I asked you for money?"
"300 dollars."
"Wow. I was so high last night."
"So what the fuck? Was it all because you were high?"
"No, brother, she is so freaking pissed at me – I dunno where to start."

I pull up the texts from earlier this morning.

"How about 'This hurts so fucking much'?"
"Oh yeah. That was probably after she bit me"
"She bit you."

It was a declarative statement. Not an exclamation of shock or aversion.

"Yeah, that shit still hurts, see?"

Byron rolls up his sleeve to reveal fresh, deep teeth marks on his upper arm. Taking a single finger, he pokes the pink hue an moves the injured muscle around as if it was internally detached and floating under the skin.

"I don't think it's supposed to move like that.", I responded.
'"Yeah? That's fucked up."
"I guess I have to ask: why did she bite you?"
"She was drunk and trying to leave but I'll be damned if I let my woman put herself in danger like drive drunk..."
"And they say chivalry is dead..."
"Yeah, right? So, I reach in to take the keys out of the ignition and she chomps down!"
"What got her pissed enough to leave?"
"Well, I had just broke her new cell phone.”
"You broke her new cell phone." Another declarative statement.
"Yeah, she was making a big fuss and we were yelling at each other so she hid my keys..."
"She hid your keys."
"Yeah, but forgot she had given me her cell phone to hold at the bar. So, she starts yelling at me to give it back and I said ‘You want it back?’ and I take it out and...”

Byron makes a breaking in half motion with his hands.

"Here!"
"I guess that's why you walked to work."
“That’s why I had to walk to work"
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
"Well... I can't wait to tell Tony about this because this is fucking hilarious."
"Totally fuck you both."