KFP Mixer At Ringleaders House (The Real Story)

This story basically wrote itself. It had been quite some time since the KFP party and The Manmol, our esteemed president deemed we should have a KFP mixer in honor of his return. Given that I am Vice President, I have but no choice to oblige the request. I spoke with the Ringleader, who resides in West Virginia, as to how this event must take place(transportation, location of party etc.). I rode the bus up from Brooklyn and was greeted at the bus station to Ringleader driving an '88 Bronco which got about 20 feet a gallon and a blond West Virginian woman named H-Bomb. I knew things were going to get blurry, so I sped things up by slamming some over proof rum my mom got me from Jamaica(she sure knows how to keep Search happy). Ringleader and I put together our 6-tier, shaky at best, game plan for the KFP mixer:

-Get a huge tent;tables, food and shit from a rental place

-Buy a boat load of booze

-Get stanchions and velvet rope

-Call a bunch of chicks(editors note: Most of KFP have girlfriends who's friends know our intentions or have moved away from Binghamton and have no idea where these chicks are other than downtown)

-Drink manically

-Go downtown

The site of the party was Ringleader's moms backyard, with a bunch of rich white people who lived around it. This is essentially like stapling a $100 to the ass of a nerd and dropping him off in the middle of Bed-Stuy at 4:30am; no good can come of this. Me getting drunk around this whiteness is only going to incite some yelling, inappropriate comments and yelling. Manmol and I stopped by the dollar store to pick up specific mugs for the upper cabinet to drink from, exhibiting our regal nature. We found phony African decorated jugs for $2.99 each, this infuriated me, given they were from the dollar store. I asked the woman at the counter "Are these safe to drink from?" Before she could respond I belt out "WE'RE GONNA FUCKIN FIND OUT!". After some driving around and preparation; which included buying more beer than the state of New York State, me calling girls I barely knew trying to "get them to come to some party on the south side or something" strong-arming members of KFP who worked at a pizza place to give us free pizza and Manmol and I arguing over nothing, the party was ready to begin.

On our way to the Ringleaders house from Manmols, I am carrying 4 different things, including my ornate fake African pottery jug which made me important, and my cell rings. It's S.O.S, a KFP member calling me, he never fucking calls me ever. I attempt to answer it, and drop my mug, shattering it into several pieces. I express my discomfort and rage to Manmol in the following manner; "I'M GONNA FUCKIN BURN S.O.S's HOUSE DOWN AND PUT IT O UT WITH MY PISS! WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS! I'M DRUNK!"I tried desperately in vain to salvage the mug with electrical tape. It was a true exercise in futility. Already infuriated at these events, I descend on our mixer and begin drinking everything that is not bolted to the .floor. The fact that the party got off to a slow start was of no moment; I had no fuckin' mug. S.O.S arrives at the party with a 30 oz. Mug with the words "Slim Jim"across the front. This is complete and total false advertising, I am not slim, that is for fucking sure. I accept his token of apology and fill it with enough booze to keep me from being slim. The party starts to pick up, and by pick up I mean, a bunch of other dudes show up. The only chicks at our "mixer" were Soul Coaches girl and H-Bomb. But this was of no moment, I had a huge mug, and my "diamond ring" featured from Parade Day. We set up stanchions and velvet rope at the front of the tent, and instructed everyone to use them accordingly. The more I drank, the more rigidly this was enforced. I began to periodically yell at those who disobeyed. Ringleader didn't enjoy my yelling and yelled at me for yelling. Given the level of respect I have for my fellow KFP members, and the fact I wasn't on a Whiskey Hell Ride I respected his wishes and "talked very loudly". It got to the point at the height of my booze induced euphoria, that I began flaunting my to anyone who would look at it; Ringleader and his faction began playing spades so I lent him the "ice". I assume he won every game as a result of having multi-gillions on his hand.

When Manmol used to live in Binghamton, he was quite the ladies man. Particularly, chicks who worked at our pizza place we ravage on a regular basis. We referred to them as "counter girls". Wind of his return must have spread through their rotten-vagina social circle, because one of them kept calling him throughout the night. He turned the phone over to me to unleash a brand of fiery KFP-Search-I'm-mean-because-I'm-smarter-than-you justice. The several Slim Jim's I drank crept up on me and hit me HARD. I had no idea what I was saying to this girl, but after I would say something that resembled a punch line, everyone at the party laughed hilariously. The one thing I do remember saying to her was "You have to go?...oh...well, do you eat dick?"My guess, given her counter girl nature, and my pure magnetic drunk game, she enjoyed every sub-human and demeaning thing I said to her. I grew weary of her glutton for punishment nature and passed the phone to Manmol. Apparently she wanted to meet Manmol in a parking lot near the party and take us to another party. Manmol, S.O.S, me and Marcy agree to join him to the parking lot.

Our walk to the parking lot was a true example of the diplomatic immunity members of KFP experience in Binghamton. There was 4 of us, screaming like maniacs, slamming and pouring beers in the middle of the street, stumbling and tearing shit out of lawns. Our parents would have obviously been proud of us, because they definitely raised us to be young adults, start a fraternity while none of us are in college and to walk around the streets of Binghamton asking to be harassed by the police. Surprisingly, S.O.S was acting cool the entire evening. For example, saying cool things, smoking weed, drinking more than he should and breaking things that didn't belong to him. Normally he doesn't do any of the following, instead just sits at home and never answers his phone. We finally arrive to the parking lot to meet one of Manmol's former conquests. I liken this social interaction to Animal Planet, when a lone gazelle is on the plains and looks around and sees a pack of hyenas circling in for the kill. This young counter girl had no idea what she was in for. Manmol starts talking to her, I immediately pretend to dry hump her from behind. This gains a laugh from the frat. As the social interaction proceeds, I interject random with lewd propositions referencing the conversation I had on the phone with the counter girl. "You still eatin dick?! Can I get you pregnant later? Ever get your asshole reamed?"These were the important questions I asked her. It was as though Andrew Dice Clay, vintage Eddie Murphy and Too $hort invaded my body and started talking for me. After my verbal venom was unleashed, we convinced the counter girl to drive us to this party she was at before she thought hanging out with us was a good idea.

Unleashing 4 KFP members on a party where we know no one is not a good idea, at all, period, ever. Well, of course if you are throwing the party it isn't. But, if you're one of us, its a beautiful time filled with magic and wonder. As soon as we step into the party, we case everything and everyone. None of the party goers could remotely entertain physical combat, so we knew it was open reign. Manmol darts for the kitchen, and steals a pairing knife, as he should have. Marcy and I bee-line for the back porch, to score more beer. I could barely hold up my Slim Jim mug, so I made matters worse by pouring 4 Keystone light beers into it. S.O.S disappeared into the folds of the run-down apartment, I'm assuming he was still doing cool stuff, like putting toothbrushes in the toilet. Midway through the pillaging, one of the party goers attempted to talk to me. Apparently, he had no clue I was in KFP and had no time for his idle-chatter, there was booze and things to steal. I ignored him, stuffed more beers in my pocket and stumbled haphazardly outside. We are leaving the party and I spot the big heist, a sign in the front lawn depicting a man with a leashed dog. The caption read the following:

"PET WASTE

TRANSMITS DISEASE

LEASH CURB AND CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR PET

PLEASE KEEP

THIS AREA CLEAN"

I think it goes without saying, the sign was out of the lawn and in my hands before even I knew what was going on. What a charming addition to the heist! We piled in the counter girls car and headed back to the mixer. The level of drunkenness we were at made us equivalent to a group of 10 year olds in the back seat who were being obnoxious and had to pee. S.O.S took my stolen sign and attempted to bash out counter girls window, yet another cool thing he was trying to accomplish, I had to tip my hat to him, he held the KFP banner high that night. We all stumbled out of the car and informed counter girl she was not allowed at the mixer, although it would have been nice to have some sort of fur there, but Ringleader would have thrown a beer at her and possibly made her clean it up with her asshole.

At this point S.O.S's cool activity spiked rapidly to the Earth. As I was engaging in some sort of meaningless conversation, S.O.S tried to kick my Slim Jim mug onto me. Given my cat-like grace I gain when I'm violently drunk, I side stepped his attempt and threw my beer all over his jeans. He obviously was under some sort of impression that I WASN'T Vice President of KFP and would be capable of such things. I'd like to take his transgressions with a grain of salt, given his cool activity all evening, highlighting trying to break counter girls car window, but...what if he had succeeded and got beer all over me?! This was simply unacceptable. At this point, the mixer had broken up, and it was time to take our assault to downtown Binghamton. As with most of the KFP downtown assaults, we generally make it there, have a drink or two together, then scatter and pursue our own endeavors. Manmol generally starts a fight with his girlfriend, Ringleader usually tricks a chick into making out with her, I usually end up harassing some chick I hooked up with into more sexual activity claiming I have some entitlement to it. It was politics as usual, as I stumbled from bar to bar, people would ask about my t-shirt reading "Uncle Buck" "Who's Uncle Buck?"(Uncle Buck being my frat name). Normally if they aren't chicks, I won't entertain their questions. I'm on a mission while I'm there and its definitely not a Q&A session. After some diabolical bar hoping, lewd comments and the like I ran into a long time associate of mine who bounces at one of the bars downtown. I tried to smoke a cigarette in the bar, to which he was visibly displeased, so I bought him a beer and tried to convince him it was okay to drink while working. He certainly didn't think it was okay.

It was rapidly approaching closing time, so I attempt to contact the remainder of the KFP cohorts for some sort of after hours. I see Manmol and DB driving around the strip, they attempt to convince me to get in the car. I scream at them and refuse a ride. I call them 10 minutes later for a ride. They left. I end up taking a cab back to the remains of the mixer, while screaming belligerently at the cab driver. I short him $2 and stumble out of the cab to find no one left at the mixer. I continue pounding booze, crawl my way back to Manmols and pass out. The next morning Manmol and his family told me I snore, that's bullshit, I've never heard myself snoring while I sleep.