Once upon a time in a dive bar far, far away, there lived a lowly barwench. On a sclae of 1 – 10, she was about a 7, but you shoulda seen some of the other chicks that came in. Her not at all unattractiveness and the fact that most patrons got pretty handsy after a few beers earned her the nickname “White Russian”. Why White Russian, you may ask? Well, the hours of the bar kept her up all night and she slept during the day so she was pretty pale. Try to imagine if you will, a more masculine Edward from Twilight and you’ve got the picture. Well, that and then there’s the whole thing where she only drank White Russians. She got the idea after a midnight screening of The Big Lebowski, but really, how she got the name isn’t important. After all, it’s a story, just roll with it.
Anyway White Russian’s father was the manager of this bar so if we’re gonna get all Henry the VIII about it, she was pretty much the princess of this domain. She was content slinging back Bud lights and Jaeger bombs, but that all changed when another woman entered her father’s life. Her name was Destiny and she was three times as trashy as her stripper name would indicate, but what can you do? White Russian’s father had needs… manly type needs and when Destiny walked into his bar one night with a halter top, it was over. With the dim lighting of the bar enough to hide the scars from her breast implant surgeries (that’s right, plural), well that pretty much sealed the deal. You see, White Russian’s father was a tit man so it wasn’t much of a surprise when the two married after Destiny got in a “family way.” The shotgun wedding was at the bar and White Russian even served as the maid of honor, but that’s just because Destiny’s Foxy Boxing League was out of town that weekend.
From there, things only went downhill. Destiny and White Russian always seemed to be competing for the bar owner’s attention. The two were always at odds with each other. I mean, Destiny had the rack, but White Russian was family. I mean, it’s not like he could tell Destiny to lay off his daughter or else it seemed every night when Destiny and the bar owner were alone together, Destiny would get a terrible “headache.” One day, Destiny orchestrated a plan to end the competition forever by getting rid of White Russian… for good! Destiny asked the beer delivery guy, a notorious drunk, if he’d like to do Destiny a favor. The beer delivery guy hastily agreed, hoping to get a little something out of the deal. Destiny asked if he’d take her step-daughter out and he agreed to pick White Russian up that very night.
This fella was nervous about his date so after his Mexican shower, he had a couple of drinks, you know, just to calm the nerves. When the time came, he arrived at the bar where White Russian was serving drinks. When the beer delivery guy told her about their date, she appeared confused, but didn’t want to offend him so she agreed to have a few drinks with him at the bar. What she DIDN’T know was that this was all a part of Destiny’s plan. You see, Destiny slipped a roofie or two in White Russian’s drinks. When she passed out, Destiny and the beer delivery guy carried the unconscious girl to his car. Where he agreed to drive her out to the middle of nowhere to leave her to die.
See, that WAS the plan. The only problem is he was a little too drunk to drive so he had made it no more than 3 miles than he promptly crashed his car into a fire hydrant. In a desperate attempt to avoid yet another DUI, the beer delivery guy fled the scene just as White Russian regained consciousness. She stumbled her way into a dark alley before passing out.
When she came to, she found seven odd little people watching her sleep. Normally, most people would be a little creeped out, but waking up in an alley surrounded by creeps was nothing new to White Russian. After asking them who they were in a groggy voice, each of them were only about to belch their names before promptly falling back to the ground and laying in a pile of their own sick. There was Ginny, Rummy, Bubbly, Wine-y, Whiskey, Brandy, and Sake.
Whiskey was the first to come to while White Russian just sat there, trying to shake off the post-roofie headache. He told her that he and his band of merry drunks would be more than happy to help her out while she got back on her feet. White Russian thanked them for their kindness and agreed to follow them home.
As the others regained their consciousness, they set off down the block to a shoddy little 3 bedroom. Sadly, this was not their place. The drunks place was located in the dumpster out back. The eight of them piled into the trash heap that these seasoned drinkers called home. When she saw the place that they dared to call home, she choked back the vomit. She offered to clean the place and take care of the drunks if they offered her a place to stay.
It was agreed. In celebration, White Russian made her specialty… White Russians. The group partied into the wee hours of the night. Ginny and Rummy played their games until the sun came up.
To be continued…