Lond Ho Adventures Part Eight
November 1992
It’s Grey Cup time again and Bill and I decide we should have a bit if a get together. We invite about twenty people knowing from past party experience that only about half, if that, ever bother showing up at these things. I decide to mix it up a bit and invite friends and work people. On the friends side there is Fred, Amber, MacGreggor, Paco, and much to Bill’s chagrin, Newt, and on the work side I axe Robert, Sandy, and Roy to come by. Bill tells me he invited a group of girls from his work who were apparently just dying to come including a virgin by the name of Rachel and a couple of her friends. We also invite both sets of parents to round it all out.
We make sure to tell people way in advance to bring some food and such as we will be providing the drink. A couple of days before I bought a flat of Drummond Dry and a six of O’Douls (for the Auld Man), as well as some crisps, pretzels, and buns, and Bill buys a small container of sour cream for the chilli my parents are bringing.
The day comes and we have all sorts of last minute cancellations which comes as no surprise. Bill’s parents, well his mother actually, calls and tells us she has some kind of last second Mary Kay Indoctrination session and Bill Sr. doesn’t want to go by himself. Amber cancelled, of course, as I knew she would, and this sparks a HUGE telephone row between Bill and her, but more on this later. Rachel the virgin never shows up, neither does Paco, Roy, Sandra, Robert, or the big group of girls that Bill invited that were dying to come so badly.
My parents arrive with a huge vat of chilli and a cake with a football player on it. Newt and MacGreggor bring some more beers (what part of “bring food” didn’t they understand?) and Fred brings nothing apart from a huge fucking appetite. He finishes off a big bowl of crisps before anyone arrives and then proceeds to the kitchen when my parents arrive with the big vat of chilli. He gives them a cursory greeting then grabs the biggest bowl he can find and stands over the chilli pot for the entire first-quarter of the game. So stuck in at his position is he that everybody else has to reach around him to get to the food.
“Slow down, buddy,” I hear Bill advising him as he goes to the kitchen to grate some cheese for his one (and only it turns out) bowl of chilli.
By half time everyone has finished one bowl and is ready for seconds only to be left scraping the bottom of the pot for the dregs left behind by Fred who has absolutely gorged himself with no less than six servings! I find myself wondering where the hell he’s putting all this food!
At the start of the third quarter Bill gets up to take a piss and Fred steals his seat near the snack table and begins stuffing his face with potato crisps and gobs of dip. I snatch the nearly empty bowl away from him and refill it with the last of the crisps and put it back on the table out of Fred’s reach, then head to the kitchen to whip up some cheese buns for those who I know are still hungry only to find a tiny bit of cheese left, only enough for one measly bun.
Where the fuck did all the cheese go? I wonder to myself, now almost thoroughly annoyed.
Newt finds me stewing in the kitchen and axes me if there is anything else to eat so I look around. There are a couple pieces of cake left next to where the chilli vat was (Bill is washing it out in the sink), and I find myself pointing embarrassedly at an empty crisp bowl that has magically moved itself across the table and in front of Fred who is scraping the last tiny shards of potato chip from the bottom of the bowl. I make Newt a cheese bun using the last of the cheese.
Before the end of the third quarter Fred gets up, says he’s leaving (an extremely pissed-off Bill grumbles something like “goodfuckingriddence” under his breath) and heads towards the door via the kitchen. I hear the fridge door open and close.
“One for the road,” Fred says taking a beer or two with him on the way out.
“Be careful driving,” I call out to him as the door closes.
The game ends with the Calgary Stampeders victorious and soon everyone is on their way, thanking us for the party and such. MacGreggor tells me on the way out that he really enjoyed himself and Newt seconds it, giving my hand a firm shake. Me mum and dad say goodbye and as the door shuts behind them Bill grumbles:
“I can’t believe Fred ate six fucking bowls of chilli! And what the fuck happened to all the cheese? He must have sucked that back too!”
I open the fridge to check on the beer situation, there’s still plenty, but something is missing. . . then it his me.
“You bought some sour cream today, didn’t you?” I axe Bill.
“Yeah, in case anyone wanted some with the chilli. I’m a big fan of the sour cream. Had a little myself on my one fucking bowl I managed to get before Hurricane Fred blew through.” He says.
“Well,” I throw open the fridge door all the way, “it’s gone.” I close the door and check the garbage under the sink in case it all got used, but there is no sign of an empty sour cream container.
“For fuck sakes,” Bill snarls, “He took it.”
“What? Who took it?” I axe, already knowing the answer.
Bill shakes his head, “I can’t believe Fred stole our sour cream. . . its just about the stupidest fucking thing I’ve heard of.”
I shake my head, then head to the TV room to finish cleaning up the mess.
