Bunco Goes Awry...Again

I first played Bunco with this group just over a month ago. I barely knew any of them, even though I had worked at their school for an entire year. Before coming to their school, when I was a teacher, I was sorta fun to hang out with and I spent much time playing jokes and laughing with my colleagues. Now, I am always so crazy busy with this "absolutely wonderful job" that I am unable to visit and build relationships. When I was invited to play, I was excited about seeing these folks away from the office so that I could be my usual self.

The deal was this: bring food, bring alcohol, bring ten dollars, play a game that you have never played before, get to know your co-workers. It sounded simple enough.

When I arrived at Amanda's house, I really had no idea what to expect...I mean I kinda had to feel these people out in order to determine just how much of my usual self would be appropriate. I walked onto the back deck. The air was heavily polluted and intoxicating beverages sat everywhere. I quickly surmised that my usual self would fit in just fine.

I have always enjoyed margaritas. Always. I know exactly how much I can drink before I must lie down for a bit of a nap. I have this amount scientifically calculated, and once it is reached I must lie down. It doesn't matter where. It doesn't matter what. I must lie down. This condition has one unique characteristic. While lying down, I must have my eyes closed. I cannot open them for any reason; however, I am still totally lucid and can hear all that is being said around me. I simply can't participate in the conversation for a while. That's all.

When I am drinking out of a blue Solo cup, I am able to remain upright because I know exactly when to stop. On this night, I had no solo cup. I had a smaller stirophome cup. I should have paid closer attention.

Bunco is played in 24 rounds. At the end of each round, as I changed partners, I would go to the kitchen and refill my little cup. After the 12th round, we took a break to further pollute the air. I went outside and sat in a double seated patio glider.

Just then, I realized that the limit had been surpassed. Had to lie down. Lie down immediately. This patio furniture was not really designed for people to lie on it, but like I said...it doesn't matter where. Incriminating pictures exist of me as I lie in this glider. I was wearing sunglasses in the pitch-black dark. Can't explain that.

Amanda came to my aid. She helped me into the bedroom for the remainder of my nap. I remember seeing a beautiful white bedspread and lots of pillows. I remember thinking: "Oh, Amanda, I can't take a nap on this bed. The cover and the pillows are white. I have make up on my face. I have grocery store feet, and I am covered with that yucky air pollution." I know I thought these things, but I don't think I was able to verbalize them at the time. Further, more incriminating pictures exist from this period of time. Perhaps, they are being held as leverage for future blackmail attempts.

I forfeited my ten dollars. I never returned to the Bunco table. My first game, and I was unable to go the distance...all because of a tiny little stirophome cup!

Tonight, I was determined to do better. I left the half-gallon at home. I poured my drink into a WHS squeeze bottle. I had determined that if it didn't fit in that bottle, I wasn't going to drink it. Drank out of a blue Solo cup,too. Bet my new Bunco partners didn't even notice that.

Since I am still new to the game, I don't quite understand all the rules. We were in the 5th round. I rolled three fives. My partner Jan raised both of her hands in air - sort of like that "pump it up" motion - and screamed, WooHoo! I couldn't figure why all that was necessary. Then, she told me that I "Bunco-ed". I looked at the dice and make a totally logical inference. Roll three of a kind and you Bunco. Sounds reasonable, right?

I rolled again. I got three sixes. So, as had been recently demonstrated by Jan, I raise both hands in the air and scream, WooHoo! Jan and Kim look at me like I am nuts! Im thinkin' to myself...I might wanna tone down the excitement next time. I rolled again. I was smokin! I rolled three fours! Again, just as I had been shown, I raise my hands and scream: WooHoo!

After that, they finally had to tell me...I was excited about nothing really. Hell, right this minute, I couldn't tell you how many points you gain by "bunco-ing". I just know you're supposed to squeal real loud.

I am kicking boo-tay until the 22nd round. Jan started playing with herself and got 62 points in one round. Still, I am only behind four points. I never recover. Don't be sad, though. I did win money for the highest number of buncos. If I could have put little stars on my tally sheet every time I rolled three of a kind, I woulda had lots more.

I had some cash and one check for 10 dollars. Kim wanted me to go ahead and put my name on the check so that it wouldn't be blank, but I had no pen. I promised to be real careful and deposit immediately. On the way home, I stopped by the Chevron to get a Mountain Dew. The cashier was toward the back mopping the floor. How many times have you walked into gas station and the cashier was mopping? I don't know that I have ever seen it.

My cash and check were folded up in my pocket. As I walked toward the end of the candy aisle toward the pay counter, I stuck my hand in my pocket to get my monies. My ring got stuck on something inside my pocket. I jerked my hand and it did come out of the pocket along with my monies. Unfortunately, the money continued to fly through the air, land on the floor, and slide underneath this wire rack at the head of the aisle - the one that held the golden flake crackers.

Kim's nameless check had disappeared under the cheese cracker holder! I had to get it.

I really didn't think it a big deal at first. Then it became apparent that I was going to have to get down on my hands and knees to reach this money. I won that money! I wasn't leaving the gas station with out it. The floor was wet. Being on a gas station floor is disgusting enough, but can you imagine a wet gas station floor?

I stuck my hand underneath the edge as far as I could reach. I had to be real careful because the bills had come unfolded and separated, so if I didn't go slowly, I would leave some of the bills behind. I was almost there. Mere inches to go. Unbeknownst to me, the cashier, along with her wet mop, had come to stand right behind me. Lord knows how long she'd been back there or what she must have been thinking. She said,"Ma'am can I help you with something?"

Well, it scared the mess out of me...bad. I jumped. When somebody scares me, my hands instinctively go to my chest. Sort of like Fred Sanford does when he is having the big one. Usually, this behavior causes no harm, but my hand was underneath a wire rack. The next two seconds still play in my head on super slo-mo. Yanking my hand to my chest has greatly disturbed the balance of the golden flake rack.

I sat upright on the front of my legs so that now, I am wet from my knees to my toes. I am not paying attention to the cracker holder. i have turned to the cashier who is shoving a mop handle over my head! She did prevent the wire rack from falling on my head, but she was unable to stop the fall of many boxes of assorted crackers onto the wet floor. I spent the next few minutes cleaning up my mess and wishing so badly that I had just gone straight home.

I paid for my Dew and went to my car with a death-grip on a ten dollar, no-name check.