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  • Alright, now since Father's Day is right around the corner, I figured I'd tell a story, that happened on Father's Day a few years ago.

  • And this is a story that I really don't want to tell, because ...

  • Well, it's pretty damn embarrassing.

  • But that's never stopped me before, so here we go.

  • So a few years ago, my parents decided to have a barbecue in their backyard for Father's Day.

  • And, of course, being the good son that I am, I show up and I give my dad a present.

  • And that year it just so happened to be front-row tickets to see the Tigers lose to the Yankees.

  • And overall this cookout was going pretty well.

  • I'm over there mingling with a couple of my parents' friends.

  • "So what is it that you do for a living?"

  • "I ... uhm ... make shitty cartoons about my life and then put them on YouTube."

  • "Oh I see, so you're unemployed, that's pretty neat."

  • But things start taking the turn for the worse when my Dad starts making cocktails for the party.

  • Some rum and cokes, if you will.

  • And how my dad makes a rum and Coke is he pours a half a liter of rum into the biggest cup he can find, and then he waves an unopened bottle of Coca-Cola over it like a magic wand.

  • At least that's what it seemed like, because these goddamn drinks were strong as hell.

  • And he was using some cheap-ass rum on top of it.

  • He wasn't using Captain Morgan.

  • Hell, he wasn't using Admiral Nelson either.

  • I don't know what rank the goddamn pirate was on the bottle, but I can tell you it wasn't very high.

  • It was probably something like, "Just got on the boat Jerry."

  • "Rum that will be sure to put your dick in the dirt!"

  • So I'm indulging myself, but every time I finish a drink, my dad makes me another one.

  • And every new drink that he gives me is bigger than the last one.

  • "Hey, you want your next drink in a salad bowl or this five-gallon bucket?"

  • "Hell, I could inflate a baby pool and just dump it in there, if you want."

  • So two hours later, all of a sudden, I'm drunker than ten stepdads put together.

  • Now, just how drunk was I? Well, I can tell you that at some point in the middle of the cookout I got a random nosebleed and my drunk ass didn't realize it, until somebody was like: "Hey, you idiot! Your fucking face is bleeding!"

  • Now, this part of the story gets a little hazy, since "Just got on the boat Jerry" has been kicking my dick in all afternoon.

  • But according to my parents' testimonial the next day, apparently, I walked into the bathroom, bled all over the place, like a wounded animal, somehow broke their goddamn sink off the wall, and then strolled out like nothing ever happened, while their bathroom looked like a goddamn homicide scene.

  • I walk into the backyard with a wad of toilet paper crammed up my nose, covered in blood.

  • Everybody's looking at me, like I just left the scene of a fucking car accident.

  • I go to sit down on a chair that apparently didn't exist.

  • And I bust my ass in front of the whole backyard.

  • "Well, I bet he doesn't make a shitty YouTube cartoon about this."

  • "I bet you I will, God damn it!"

  • "Holy hell, did somebody slip him a roofie or what?!"

  • "We need to get his goofy ass out of here!"

  • So my dad has to drive me home that day and drop me off, like it's my first day at school and shit.

  • "So ... thanks for making an ass of yourself in front of all my friends."

  • "Oh, and thanks for the Tiger tickets too!"

  • So now it's four in the afternoon.

  • I'm passed out in my bed, all stepdad-drunk.

  • And of a sudden I wake up and I realize that I have to take a piss.

  • But I'm pretty sure, if I stand up, I'll either throw up or I'll shit my pants.

  • Probably both, if we're honest with each other.

  • So in a last ditch effort I roll to my side, unzip my pants, and I piss onto my bed.

  • I'm not sure what my logic was, but somehow that was a better option, than pissing in my pants.

  • As if I could explain to myself later, like, "Oh no, you didn't piss the bed, you pissed onto your bed!"

  • "And that's better, somehow, I think."

  • So I fall back asleep on my now piss-stained mattress, and I don't wake up again until 9 o'clock at night.

  • And let me tell you, I felt like death.

  • I felt like somebody murdered me, and then brought me back to life, and then took a piss on me to top it all off.

  • And at first it didn't even register what I had just done.

  • Hell, it all felt like a dream to me.

  • "Surely I didn't whip my dick out and piss onto my own bed!"

  • "Why would I do such a thing?"

  • But if that was all just a dream, I had quite a few things to explain.

  • Like, why all my bed sheets were all wet?

  • Or why my whole bedroom smelled like a goddamn port-o-potty.

  • Or, you know, why dick was still out, because I never bothered to zip back up.

  • "Oh, God damn it, I did piss onto my own bed!"

  • "What am I, some kind of wild animal?"

  • So needless to say, I took a shower that night.

  • And I also took a long hard look at my life.

  • "Nobody will ever know that this happened."

  • "I will never ever, I will never ever tell this story, I will never ever tell this story to anybody!"

  • So happy Father's Day out there to all the dads and stepdads, and remember, the moral of the story is: "Don't slam down a bunch of bottom-shelf booze on Father's Day, because you'll probably piss on your own bed like a wild animal!"

  • The end.

  • [Special Thanks To: Dana Shaw, Andy Hyun.]

  • [Special Thanks To these and many more other Patrons!]

Alright, now since Father's Day is right around the corner, I figured I'd tell a story, that happened on Father's Day a few years ago.

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Brewstew - Father's Day

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