Strangeness and Charm

Drunk Camila Is Bad Camila

Suffice to say, she didn't stop laughing until she had her face stuffed with Hawaiian pizza which she paid for with the blackmail money I gave her.

Why was I helping this bitch, again? That's the million-dollar question that I have no answer to as we finally reached my car, and I not-so-gently pushed Camila over the hood while I fished for my keys in my pocket.

I can hear her muttering. Something about her zipper or something, whatever, I really didn't care about the ramblings of a drunk  Camila because based from countless of horrible experiences I had to endure, drunk Camila is bad Camila and I have learned to tune her out whenever she's intoxicated.

Besides, I was too busy trying to open my car door. The quicker I got her inside, the quicker we will be back in our apartment.

When I finally unlocked my car and I turned towards her to help her get in, I choked when I saw her squatting and peeing on my tire with that stupid grin on her face as if what she's doing was helping fix global warming. Well, she sure was warming up my tire, not to mention, my blood which was quickly bubbling into an angry boil.

I tried to be patient with her, I really did, but at that very second I snapped.

I smacked her head -- hard, forgetting that I was still holding my car key with a big ass metal Eifel Tower keychain and it made a satisfying clunk when it hit her skull, but she was too absorbed in her drunken stupor to even notice that her head almost bounced against my car. What happened was, since her pants were down her ankles, and she was generally, even when sober, a huge klutz, she unsurprisingly lost her balance, and before I could do anything else she was slumping backwards. The sudden loss of balance must have been a shot of adrenaline to her body because I saw her stiffen up, which could have caused her urethra to contract several times and her pee to shoot out in spurts. Suffice to say, I felt a warm sprinkle on my feet and legs, and believe me when I say that I could have killed her in that very second if I were holding a knife or something. As much as I considered myself adventurous, being peed on wasn't in my bucket list. Not even on my sexual bucket list. Unless I was stung by a jellyfish I would rather not be urinated on, especially not by Camila.

But I saw her rolling in her own puddle of pee, her pants still down by her ankles, giggling like she lost her damn mind, and really, could I kick a deranged girl?

"You fucking filthy piece of shit, you peed on me, Camila!" I was snarling, I wasn't even gonna lie. "Are you a fucking dog?! Do you want to lick my shoes as well!?"

"So, pee on me, too... I don't care. Pee on my face, I bet it tastes like pineapple juice!" She giggled uncontrollably -- seriously, who the fuck she thinks I am, R. Kelly?! "And uhmm nope I don't wanna lick your shoes... I wanna lick your pussy. Let me eat your pussy wussy, Lauren, while you unirate on me!" She turned to me excitedly, her eyes twinkling so much I was stunned into silence as I looked at her eager expression.

What the hecking fuck? Ew!

"Okay, let's be clear on this," I huffed, "first of all, it's urinate, you fucking idiot. Second of all, pee tastes like pee. Nothing else. Not juice, not Pepsi cola, not anything! Just the plain disgusting taste of urine! --"

"How do you know? Have you tasted it?"

This fucking bitch.

I ignored her and continued, "and thirdly, there'll be no pussy-licking happening between us," I pointed at the both of us to emphasize my words, "because we're both straight! Did you forget that fun fact?"

"Fun fact your face, I'm gay for Lauren, but don't tell her I told you," she giggled as she made a shushing sound as she put her forefinger on her lips that meant I should keep quiet. "She's my hot roommate, I don't want things to be awkward."