On Saturday night, the day after I released the 24 Commandments for newcomers to follow, Forrest and I began our normal quest to get blackout. After five bottles of wine during dinner at Sullivan’s, we decided to make the move to Felson’s. Under normal circumstances the rest of this story would be quite entertaining and similar (identical) to how I spend a normal Saturday night. Pregame, bar, shots, girls, blackout, dance floor, girls, shots, late night, hungover, lather, rinse, and repeat. However, this night was nowhere near normal. What we saw upon arriving to our favorite bar was nothing short of a national tragedy (while it had no impact on our nation as a whole, it traumatized ITB, which is a nation in and of itself). As we stumbled across the threshold, passing by the bouncer who doesn’t bother checking our IDs (he knows who we are), we were instantly lost in a sea of people we had never seen before. A diverse mix of gel heads and newcomers, were enjoying themselves right before our eyes. Forrest and I split up to try to locate people we knew so that we could gather together in a corner and judge these heathens for not being like us.

I began my normal counterclockwise lap at the upper bar and was greeted with a fresh Miller Lite without having to ask for it. I cut in between two girls I had never seen before and grabbed my drink. “Jager bomb as well?” asked the bartender. “Three,” I replied. Thinking that I was going to offer them the remaining two shots, the two girls next to me turned and began to introduce themselves.
“Hi, I’m Girl 1,” said the brunette.
Her short blonde friend added, “And I’m Girl 2. What’s your name?”
(Yeah I don’t remember their names, they don’t matter.)
“William Needham Finley IV. Why have I never seen you here? Where are you from?” I inquired.
“We’re both from Charlotte and both go to Peace. Wait……are you the guy that does that blog?” they asked.
I had started to turn away upon hearing that they were from Charlotte, but quickly began to pay attention when I realized they wanted to talk about me, which is one of my favorite things to talk about.
“ITBInsider? What if I am that guy?” I asked.
“We love that! It’s pretty funny. Being from out of town, we totally get it.”
“Funny? Get it? That’s my fuckin’ life you’re talking about. What is funny about me having to deal with you new money Charlotte pricks infiltrating my bar and ruining my night by trying to talk to me? Do you know how hard it is to be me?” I asked as my temper began to rise.
They were speechless and seemed to be offended, which was my goal. I poured the remaining shots into one plastic cup, drank it, and continued my lap, leaving them on the verge of tears.

It was time to recharge, so I went to the bathroom. I walked past some gel heads that were three times my size and took residence in one of my favorite stalls. Through the slats in the door I saw a lot of gel heads gathering around a smaller non-gel head in the middle of the bathroom. I couldn’t quite make it out, but the smaller guy looked pretty normal. He was wearing name brand wealthy people clothing, but I could barely see him through the dark forest of graphic tees. Was he getting jumped? I waited in the stall quietly, covering one eye in an attempt to stop my double vision so I could see what was going on. The gel heads were giving this guy money. That’s odd, I didn’t think gel heads had disposable income. The normal guy took the money and gave the gel head a bag of pills. As they parted ways I was shocked to learn the identity of the normal guy. I took my hand from my eye, hoping that what I saw was just a result of my impaired vision. No luck, the same person remained in front of me, counting through the money he’d just received. Furious, I kicked open the stall door and yelled, “What the fuck are you doing Forrest!? Those are goddamned gel heads you’re talking to! Not only that but you’re selling them drugs! Those are OUR drugs!”
Forrest was shocked to see me and began to stutter, “I….I….I can explain.”
“This better be a damn good explanation. If those were our roofies, we are done professionally man, DONE,” I threatened.
“No, don’t worry, I got them out of my dad’s cabinet. They’re called Flomax,” he replied.
“Oh shit, that’s for old guys who pee all the time or have a weak stream or some shit like that.”
“What? This shit is for old dudes who can’t hold their piss?” he asked.
“Yeah, haven’t you seen those commercials where the old guy tries to do all those extreme sports like mountain biking and kayaking with those other old guys but he can’t because he has no control over his bladder? If only he had Flomax he wouldn’t be pissing all over the place and he could enjoy being extreme with his old friends. What’d you think you were selling?”
“I dunno….It had the words “Flo” and “max” in it. I thought they were steroids that rappers used. Ya know, like “Flo Rida” and “max out the bench press” or some shit like that. Gel heads love steroids and shitty club music, so I thought I could make some extra money,” he explained.
“Well then, you’re fucking retarded. You just sold those guys some shit that can cause blurred vision; decreased sexual ability; dizziness; weakness, chest pain; and prolonged, painful erection,” I said.
“Wait……why do you know so much about Flomax?” Forrest asked.
“Because I take it on the weekends. When I found out there was a drug that could allow me to lay on the couch all day and not have to get up to piss, I made my doctor write me a prescription. It’s part of my ITB healthcare plan. I’ll explain later, let’s finish our lap.”

We walked along the bottom bar and were shocked at what was taking place. A group of newcomers were following Winston, an ITB acquaintance of ours, stopping every few minutes to listen to him. We stopped with the group to see what was going on.
“And this is the lower bar. If you open a tab here it won’t show up at the upper bar, so most people who do open tabs stay down here for the duration of the night,” Winston explained.
What the fuck was he doing? He continued, “You’ll notice that the bartender will regularly try to impersonate Tom Cruise from the movie Cocktails. However, his inability to master the bartending tricks from the movie has resulted in countless broken glasses, which is why Felson’s serves drinks in plastic cups.”
I had to put a stop to this.
“Winston, what the fuck are you doing? Have you even checked to see where these people are from?” I demanded to know.
“Hey man, I’m just being an entrepreneur. These commoners need a tour of the place, and for $20 I’m the guy to give it to them,” he replied.
A tour? I was stunned. A fellow ITB resident was actually helping these newcomers adjust to our bar.
“You’re willing to sell out for $20?! What the fuck is wrong with you? You have a trust fund, you don’t need to work.”
“Look, I’m a businessman. Greed is good. You’re just jealous you didn’t think of the idea before I did,” he replied, matter of factly.
The line had been crossed. Businessman? Was he serious? The only business that Winston had ever run was the mail order cocaine scheme he ran in college, and that didn’t even take business sense, he just had to put drugs in envelopes and send it to the right address.
“Fucking sell out! See if you ever get invited to late night again. Unbelievable. I’m telling your Dad about this the next time I see him in the sauna at the Y,” I yelled.
From the look on Winston’s face, I knew that I had struck a nerve. Everyone knew that Winston constantly sought approval from his father, it was actually kind of gay. I wasn’t pulling any punches from here on out. He tried to stand his ground.
“Over here you’ll see the dance floor…” he continued as he nervously looked at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Hey Judas, four words, No. More. Late. Night.” I said, coldly.
Winston knew not to test me. “Well that’s the end of the tour. Thank you for joining us. No refunds, no exchanges,” he said as he turned to me, seeking my approval.
“Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again. Come on Forrest, let’s go upstairs so these commoners will be below us literally and figuratively. You stay here Winston. You’re not worthy, not tonight,” I said as Forrest and I passed the gel heads grinding on the dance floor on our way to the stairwell.

If there was a chance to salvage this night, we would find it upstairs. I opened the door and found a crowd that was identical to the one below me. Forrest and I ordered rounds of shots and sat down by ourselves at a table in the corner, wallowing in self pity. All of the sudden, a fight broke out. I couldn’t just sit by and watch one of my own get blindsided by a gel head. I wasn’t going to actually do anything, but taking this video was the most important thing I could do at the time.

While this video isn’t as conclusive as the Zapruder film, I can assure you the fight was between a filthy gel head and an innocent frat star bystander who was minding his own business as he tried to talk to (date rape) a nice young sorostitute. You can see that Forrest encouraged me to instigate the fight once it had begun to die down. Since I easily succumb to peer pressure, I began shouting at the gel head. “You look like you got raped by a clown!” I said, referring to the all black shirt that looked like a Jackson Pollock painting. Fortunately, he was already being restrained by the police (I always make sure the police are in between me and the person I’m talking shit to). I caught his attention and recognized him from the bathroom drug deal. Sure enough, the side effects were already setting in. The gel head could barely stand (dizziness) and was grabbing his chest (chest pain). He tried to hide behind one of the chairs while wincing and grabbing his groin (prolonged, painful erection). The bouncer tried to give him some water but he couldn’t even hold the cup (weakness). He looked as if he was about to pass out. Not wanting to get caught up in another wrongful death lawsuit, Forrest and I left immediately. We got in a cab and told the driver to take us around ITB to reminisce about what things were like before the commoners came back in town for school (to take classes at Wake Tech).

I sat in the back seat of the cab and started to play Sarah McLachlan’s “I Will Remember You” on my iPhone while I thought about the good times we’d had before the newcomers had arrived. Realizing I was upset, the cab driver asked me what was wrong. I was about to compare the tragedy that had just occurred to one of our nation’s worst, but this guy was from some shitty village in another country. So I compared it to the only thing I thought he would be familiar with. “Well, Samir, this is a lot like Black Hawk Down,” I began.
“Ah yes, great movie!” he replied.
“You see, Forrest and I are like the people that crashed in the helicopter. These new commoners are like the village people who were violently trying to take over the helicopter. The helicopter is similar to ITB, because it was so much nicer than anything the commoners had ever seen. So we basically need to cleanse the helicopter of this filth before it gets ruined forever.” I think that was the point of the movie…. He stared at me with a confused look on his face, but that was probably because the bootleg copy of the DVD he had seen didn’t have any of the special features of my BluRay copy. I told him I could have put a stop to all these newcomers if only my parents had supported my plan to build a wall around the beltline. I told him all about Victor, my foreign investment partner, and how we had lost touch over the last year. Thinking I could use a new investor, he told me about his brother from the Ivory Coast who needed help moving a large sum of money into the U.S. What a coincidence. Call it fate, destiny, or whatever, but things were beginning to turn around. And who says the only thing you can get while waiting outside of Felson’s is a taxi or Hep C? Being a savvy investor, I knew that diversifying my portfolio of international money laundering schemes was my best bet. So I gave the cab driver my card (WNF IV: The Socialite) and went home to pass out.

I awoke the next afternoon, not having to pee (thanks Flomax), and found that his relative had already contacted me via e-mail. His e-mail is below:

My Dear William,

My name is Master Joel Kone from Abidjan,Ivory Coast and I am 18yrs. I have an inheritance fund of 5million USDollars from my Late father Mr.Jumba Kone,I need your assistance to get this funds invested in your country due to the political situation here in Ivory Coast.

I will give 20% for your assistance. Please if you are available to be my partner and guardian, get back to me immediately for more details and proofs.write me and if for any reason you can not be able to assist me on this transcation please contact me immediately for me to look another person.
You can reach me on this number +225 66 55 48 77.

ThankS and Sincerely.
Yours,
Joel Kone.

Since Victor and I ended up having a bit of a communication issue, I wanted to make sure Joel understood me perfectly. To make sure everything was clear, I decided to reply to Joel in his native language, which I assume is broken English.

My dear of vest Joel,

It sadden me deeply to hear from your brother of loss of your latest father Jambalaya. One good things positive note is that I can assist you to transact the funds you have about to receive. I know much of long problems of Ivory Coast, and it is very heart painful to me as well. I am more knowing of soap of Ivory Spring because it has more air times on American television. Regard the less, I can be of partner and guardian to you if such helps to move transaction of funds out of your country’s troubled. I also wonder if you have diamonds. Do you know of number 1 hit song “Diamonds from Sierra Leonne” by all star rap man Kanye West? It is popular in America many years ago so you should just be finding out about it now in your country. If you know Sierra Leonne please be to tell him I would like to discuss on how I can obtain these diamonds from him. With your help, I am using these monies for much great causes. I am try to keep all people of lesser value out of my country. I know you sometimes do the same in your land, but I think you call this “genocide” in your language. Whatever we say it is, we must work together to make sure of perfect world for ourselves. Please reply me when read you this message. I look at forward to helping you.

PS- I saw the Lion King on Broadway a few months ago. Did that really happen?
–
William Needham Finley IV
333 ITB Dr.
Raleigh, NC 27605

Hopefully, this deal will work out better than the last one. I’m starting to wonder if I should be suspicious of these types of investment opportunities. Probably not.