Saturday I was standing around minding my own business, when I was waved over to a group of people to have my picture taken. Looking back, I remember them having unusually big grins on their faces, but I just thought they were really, really happy to have me join them in a picture. Did I mention I was drinking?
When I got to the group, they said, "Stand by, Jay." I stood by Jay, posed for the picture with my lovliest smile and Jay kissed me on the cheek. I started to walk away and he said, "Let's take another one. You're supposed to kiss me." The request for a second picture should have tipped me off to a possible setup, especially since the grins of the people behind the photographer (*) were growing even larger, but it didn't. Did I mention I was drinking? I did?
I posed once again with my lovliest smile and was kissed again my Jay...with an overwhelming amount of tongue and wetness. Everybody laughed their asses off. It was, as I had not suspected, a setup. I did mention I had been drinking, right?
I did my best to keep my lovely smile on my face and not freak out like Lucy when Snoopy would kiss her. For hours after the smooch sneak attack, I visualized Jay's tongue as something akin to the giant squid I had recently seen on the National Geographic Channel.
I walked back over to my friend, Brent, and said, "I just got French kissed by Jay. It was very wet. They took a picture. Now, I'm going to have to pay Luke for that picture. I need to wipe my face. They took a picture. There's a picture."
"Don't worry," Brent said. "The picture will only cost you about two bucks."
"Yeah." I said.
"Of course, the negative is probably going to cost about fifty."
(*) The photographer is our classmate Luke who takes pictures at clubs and sells them back to us. Clever bastard.