He said he was too broke to buy me a bag of coke (not really a bad thing), but said there was some vodka in the fridge. 

  When I got to his house (the fuck away from everything) the ashtray  the house key was supposed to be under came up empty. I spent about an hour eating pizza, and drinking beer on his porch with his two hungry dogs, while it rained, hoping the cops wouldn’t show, while repeatedly calling him. Finally he called back, and guided me to the completely retarded hiding place for the key.

  Once inside, I was cold, wet, and needed a shot. I found in the freezer a HUGE bottle of Stoli…with about half an inch of liquor left. 

  Chip, you fucking dick. I’m going to crank your heater up for DAYS.