Big Ginger Blanket

23 Jun

Craig had always been a bit simple. He was a good lad, lacking severely in common sense, but that’s why I liked him so much. Nights out were better when Craig was around.
I’d been seeing Natalie for a few weeks, things were ok; I think we both knew it was nothing serious. On the Friday night of this particular tale, I had a bit of a dilemma on my hands. Natalie wanted me to go out for drinks with her and then back to hers for a game of hide the sausage, but Craig had already asked me to go out on the lash with him. Not one for standing up my mates, especially after already committing myself, but not wanting to miss out on the chance of getting my willy wet, I decided to compromise. I asked Natalie to bring along a friend, and we’d all go out together.

At 7 o’clock, I went to Craig’s for a couple of beers before we went to the pub. As usual, Craig was in good spirits and looking forward to the night ahead.

“Who’s Natalie bringing out then?” Craig enquired.

“I’m not sure actually, I could ring her if you want?”

“Nah, no point, we’re meant to be meeting them soon. I’ll wait and see. I hope she’s fit”.

“Well I’ve met two of her mates and they’re both nice”, I said, lying.

We got to the pub and got a drink in each. The girls were running late (as usual) so we found a table and waited, passing comments on the various people coming in and out of the pub. By the time the girls eventually showed up, we were on our forth pint.

“Hi guys, sorry we’re late. This is my friend Sandra by the way”.

To say Craig was disappointed when he saw Sandra would be an understatement. He was gutted. She was, to put it nicely, hideous. She was very fat, with at least one band of blubber hanging over the top of her jeans. Her head was quite big, and red, and she had garish ginger hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed for a while. She reminded me of a ginger Grotbags. Her hair clashed quite spectacularly with her bright pink t-shirt.

“We’ll get the drinks in”, I said, pulling Craig up from his chair and to his feet.
At the bar, Craig was in a sombre mood.
“I was hoping to get a shag tonight”, he garbled, knocking back his drink.
“You still can, mate, Sandra’s probably up for it”, I teased.

“Fuck you”.

The night went well. We all sat and chatted and had a good laugh. Sandra, for all her shortcomings in the looks department, was good fun, and was drinking pints at an alarming speed. In between drinks, we downed shots and before long, we were all in a sorry state. Natalie suggested we carry on the session back at her place, so we left the pub and jumped in a taxi.
Back at hers, we moved onto vodka; Craig was having neat shots, whilst the rest of us mixed it with orange juice. I sensed Natalie was eager to get to bed, so we made our excuses. Sandra said that she was going to stay up for a while, whilst Craig didn’t really know what was going on, he seemed to be happy where he was, sprawled on a chair. Natalie tossed him a blanket and said that he could kip on her sofa, and then we went upstairs to her room.

I woke the next morning with my head pounding. Natalie was already up and dressed, and urging me to get up.
“Turn the fucking light off, Natalie. What time is it?”
“Nearly 10. Haven’t you got football today?”
She was right. I dragged myself out of the bed, slung my clothes on and staggered downstairs. Crag was awake, sat in the same chair, fully clothed. I didn’t think he’d got changed for bed and had just slept where he fell asleep.

“I was wondering when you’d be up, mate. Come on, let’s go”, he said as I walked into the front room.
“What did you get up to then?” I probed.
“Just ring a taxi, I’ll tell you on the way”.

Ten minutes later, we were climbing into a taxi. I’d said bye to Natalie, but there was no sign of Sandra, who had slept in the spare room. As soon as the taxi door closed, I asked Craig to spill the beans.

“Well”, he began. “You know I was fucking hammered, right? Well, I think I might have shagged Sandra last night”

“What do you mean, you think you shagged her. You either did or you didn’t?

“I can’t remember! I was that drunk. But I do know that I woke up this morning next to her and that she was naked”

“You must have shagged her then! Ha-ha! Nice one, Craigy!”

“It gets worse mate”

“Oh, yes, please go on”. I waited with great anticipation. What could top Craig shafting Sandra?

“Well this morning, I woke up and looked at her, and she was laying there snoring like a big fat pig. She looked horrible, but I was feeling a bit horny. So…so… I had a wank over her big ginger carpet”.

“HAA! And she didn’t mind?”

“Well, she was still asleep wasn’t she? So, she still doesn’t know”

“You dirty bastard” was the only response I could come up with; the image of a naked Sandra was now firmly imprinted in my mind, making my hangover a million times worse.

“Please don’t say anything to Natalie”, begged Craig.

I promised I wouldn’t, and I didn’t. I still haven’t to this day. I did however tell all the boys at football that afternoon, and it earned Craig a new nickname; The Phantom Spunker.

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