Stumbly: The 8th Dwarf

A friend of mine looked at me recently and said, “Hey! Do you remember that time you did that thing? You’re an idiot. I love you, but you’re an idiot.”.

That reminded me that I should share this story with you. It’s the story of how I gained mad karma points and then lost them all again in one night.

So I was out with friends drinking one night (as most great stories start) and as the bars started closing down, we ended up at an after party.

You know how sometimes you look around at 2:30 in the morning and think “Nope. I’m out. I’m not drunk enough for this.”

So I left the party and decided to go for a walk in the still of the night before heading home because I wasn’t all that tired yet.

I headed down towards the waterfront to feel the ocean breeze on my skin, and I came across a girl on park bench. She was slumped over, the contents of her purse strewn about.

I walked past.

“This is not my problem,” I thought.

“You should at least see if she’s alright,” my conscious whispered back.

“F*ck you, conscious” I thought. “I just wanna enjoy my walk and go home.”

I went back.

“Hey love, are you doing alright?” I asked.

She mumbled something incoherent in return.

There was a puddle of vomit next to her. Her jeans were undone. This girl was not alright. Goddammit.

So much for my walk.

“Hey, hey. Focus. Do you want to go home?” I asked.

She nodded.

“What’s your address? I’ll call you a cab,” I said.

“I don’t know,” she slurred. She was really out of it.

“Well, do you live nearby?” I asked.

She pointed back towards the town, nodding.

“Do you live within walking distance?” I asked.

Again she nodded.

I was dubious. This girl probably didn’t know where she was now, much less be able to direct me to where she was supposed to be crashing for the night.

But there was a 24-hour gas station in the direction she pointed – worst case I could maybe get some names out of her and use their phone book (this was before cell phones were abundant).

“Do you want me to help you home?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said nodding again.

It was the only word she had managed to say clearly.

Sighing in defeat, I gathered up her belongs and hoisted her up off the bench and together we set off.

If this was a movie she’d live just around the block and when we arrived her super-cute brother would answer the door and be completely grateful for the return of his precious sister and we would fall in love and live happily ever after and the sister would go to rehab and get better and all would be hunky-dory.

Sadly this is not the movies and I am not a heroine. Firstly, I may or may not have dropped that girl several times. Stumbly, drunk, deadweight is heavy yo.

After a few blocks I was re-thinking my drive to be a good person. The gas station was still a few blocks away, and it was taking us forever to get anywhere because of Stumbly (y’know – like the 8th drunken dwarf: Stumbly).

Sidenote: I was right on my hunch about her not being able to direct me – she kept saying “It’s right over there… umm… wait…”.

It was at this point I passed a nunnery.

Nuns are good people, I thought to myself. She’ll be safe with them. I’ll leave her there.

And this was how it came to be that I banged on a nunnery door at 3:00 A.M. hoping to dump a drunk girl on them like an unwanted baby.

They didn’t answer.

Nuns are dicks.



I did eventually get her to the gas station and got her parents’ names out of her, which I managed to look up in the phone book (remember those?!) and they came and got her so she made it home safely.


PS – I’m getting a new roommate this month and if you could all collectively cash in your karma points – because obviously I don’t have any – so that he doesn’t axe-murder me in my sleep that would be fantastic.

PPS – Also so that he doesn’t leave his dishes in the sink. That is super annoying.

PPPS – Except when I do it. Then it’s fine.

PPPPS – I’m a terrible roommate.

20 thoughts on “Stumbly: The 8th Dwarf

  1. I’ll send you some karma points, but I don’t have enough to buy you a guaranteed-not-an-axe-murderer-housemate. I can probably go as far as a guaranteed-doesn’t-collect-weird-things-and-does-a-quarter-of-the-chores-instead-of-half-housemate. Which is still better than a housemate who does collect weird things and who doesn’t do any chores.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you! That’s awfully generous, and I am grateful. Although, someone who collects weird things might be kind of interesting – maybe even give me something to blog about.

      But it’s a small jump from collector of weird things to serial killer. So it would likely be akin to playing with fire. Without those extra karma points it would be a dangerous game, so I think it’s best this way.


      Liked by 2 people

        • What about something in between, like collecting doll heads? Seems harmless, but reeks of creepy-oh-my-god-are-you-going-to-kill-me-in-my-sleep-and-sell-my-organs-online-for-far-less-than-market-value?

          On a totally unrelated note, what is the market value of organs online and will they take my appendix?

          Liked by 1 person

          • Oh man … I’m not sure collecting doll heads is in between stamps and severed ears. Severed ears is at least honest and straight-forward. Someone who collects severed ears might butcher you a bit, but they’d probably do it quickly and the whole do-you-want-to-see-my-collection-of-severed-ears conversation should act as enough warning to avoid it. Doll heads? A guy who collects doll heads wouldn’t just lock you in a room and leave you to saw off your own foot to escape, he would then organised an evil Ramsey-Bolton manoeuvre and just when you think you’re free, you’re lead right back into the original room and locked back up. And then he would make a coat from your skin.

            (I am unfortunately unaware of the online market value of organs … but coincidently I kind of should know for something I want to write one day, so if you make any headway with this whole selling-your-appendix thing keep me in the loop)


          • This. Is. Brilliant.

            Seriously, it might be my favourite comment ever. If I ever do sell my appendix, I’ll totally keep you in the loop. And if in your writing research you come across contacts to help me fence my organs for decent coin, keep me in the loop. Not my liver though, I need that for drinking.


  2. you are not the only one who thinks this is funny. well, it is SORT of funny.
    (and re: Ben, the bitteromist (as opposed to optimist): what if he isn’t an axe murderer, but prefers to dispatch with chainsaws?) and isn’t tall enuff to reach things? AND leaves the toilet seat up? so much to be depressed about !

    Liked by 1 person

        • He moves in THIS Friday… I’m desperately trying to savor my last moments as the master of my domain (my last roommate was never here so it was awesome). I’ve been doing things like ordering terrible food and eating far too much of it in my pajamas while crying hysterically to chick flicks – gotta take advantage of the judgement free time while I can, y’know?


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