Chapter 1 - A List of Degenerates

“How can you expect me to pick out a tie today, when you can’t guarantee me that you even have eight of them?”

The venom dripping from the woman belied her frothing frustration toward the salesman, who resembled a greased pig. His slicked, black hair glistened almost as much as the sweat beading on his forehead, as he stammered an inane excuse attempting to placate the diminutive woman. Her striking features, crisp blond bob and lithe figure disguised a growing rage that built steadily as she stamped her foot. Altogether, it was a highly arousing scene.

“How can I expect that? Am I right?”

The leaden words hung for a moment too long, more accusation than question. The steely gaze shifted to him. “Nigel.”

“Oh… yes… absolutely…”

His wistful concentration broken, Nigel Proudlock dragged himself back into the conversation before the blonde woman fully shifted the focus of her frustration.
“How about this – we’ll give Mike here two weeks to get eight ties into the store. We’ve still got three months before the wedding. If he cannot pull it off, we’ll take our business elsewhere with a full refund.”

The compromise seemed to placate Lacy, who slowly resumed her normal role as beaming bride-to-be. The salesman’s noose loosened enough to squeak out a question about tailoring the remaining suits.

“No, I don’t think that’s the best idea. We will pick all of them up today and handle the final fittings ourselves.”

The man scurried to the back and emerged a short time later with an armful of navy, pin-striped men’s suits. Dumping the suits on the counter, “Such a great idea to give suits to your groomsmen as presents.”
“Lacy and I wanted to do something special – these are great guys and deserve a small token.”

Undeterred by the unwanted compliment on her good taste, Lacy growled, “Let’s just make sure they are all here…” Her voice trailed as she dug for the sales’ receipt in her purse. The salesman squirmed nervously, still sweating underneath the store’s fluorescent lights, fearing the worst. After just a moment of rummaging, she held aloft the prize with a cry of success. Success that turned grim as a realization crowded it away.

“I still don’t like the idea of your bachelor party… and why all the way to Florida.”

Lacy rarely asks questions – more challenges. Like a gauntlet on the table, the intonation on “bachelor” and “party” in such close proximity indicated the esteem in which she held this particular wedding ritual.

“Sweets, we have been over this … more than once …. The lads are coming from all over the country – it’s going to be an innocent weekend at the beach. No strippers, no drugs, no problem.”

Nigel’s parry met with stone and a snort; sufficient response. His attention shifted, abandoning this particular battlefield.

“Here, let me go through the suits before Mike melts under the pressure.
44 – me
44 – Dutch
40 long – Geez
42 – Billy
42 long – Trick
40 short – Paulo
48 – Cannuck. …. Looks like they are all here.”

It read like a wanted list of the most deranged set of miscreant ever assembled. Degenerates and misfits, one and all, and the greatest friends a man could ask for.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely.”

An Idea Is Born

After a great weekend with an amazing group of men, I was inspired. I had known these gentlemen over ten years in most cases, and in that time we have all grown into respected, successful members of society. Notably, that was not always the case, and over the course of several days basking in the Florida sun, we traded stories of our college years back and forth, like precious cardboard bearing the heroes and antics of youth. Never have those exploits (or at least to my knowledge) been recorded.

So I have decided to try my hand at a book or something like it, chronicling my friends and some of the adventures that we have fallen into. While this is more of a personal journal at this point, I hope that you enjoy it.

-- Names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike --