Beer Pong's a Rough Game

It was a Saturday night and for the first weekend since we had been down there, NOTHING was going on in town. No concerts, no special events downtown, nobody at the clubs. Everything was still open, and probably had a good crowd, but with nothing other than the normal group of people that were there every weekend, the regular spots just weren't cutting it anymore. Everyone in the house had been on a mission all week to find something new to do. The night before we had all sat around the house drinking and brainstorming and still had no promising leads. The last thing any of us wanted to do was spend another night drinking and playing PS3, passing the controller whenever we died or needed to refill our drinks.
It was getting way too close to midnight for us to still be sitting around, and everyone was getting restless and agitated. Blake had made a beer run and had been gone for a while, and everyone was steadily working toward a buzz waiting for him to get back. A few of us started to wonder aloud what the hell was taking him so long when he exploded through the door like a SWAT team leader. He dropped two cases of beer on the couch and immediately jumped into a story that began with the first step he took out of the house.
"Ok, so I walked out and went down to the car to-"
"Get to the point, asshole" Sean said from the couch. We'd all heard too many of Blake's famous way-too-detailed stories. Blake looked over at Sean just long enough to give him the finger.
"Ok, first off, fuck you. Second, get up and get dressed. I got a keg in the truck and we're going to a party." Perfect. Sometimes I thought that we kept him around just for that reason. Whenver we needed something to do, somehow he came through in the clutch and found our plans for the night. How he pulled this one off, I'm still not sure. He mentioned something about meeting a girl at the liquor store, but by that time I was in my room getting dressed and not paying attention to the rest of his longer-than-fuck explanation of meeting a girl.
After we were all dressed we met back in the living room to figure out the ride situation. Blake drove a stock Chevy Silverado. It wasn't a small truck, but it was a regular cab with stock tires and stock everything, so it wasn't big either. It barely had enough room for two in the cab and one in the bed holding the keg. Joe and I rode in my car while the other three guys piled into Blake's truck for the short drive out to where we assumed we'd be partying all night and getting laid and acting out our wildest fantasies...or some shit like that.
The cars started lining up about a quarter mile from the house in either direction, on both sides of the road. It was a pretty big party, with a lot of people there. Hopefully it wasn't a sausage fest or Blake was never gonna hear the end of it. We passed a few little crowds, most of which were girls, so it looked pretty promising. As we rounded a small bend, the house rose up in front of us. It was huge. Possibly the exact definition of a mansion, the house was one of the biggest houses I'd ever seen in my life. Every light was on and music was thumping out into the night through the windows and doors. Apparently the neighbors were either gone for the weekend, or didn't care, because the party looked like the busiest night of the biggest fraternity house I'd ever seen. Blake said he had heard of the two girls who lived in the house, which was their parents, and that they were known for their epic parties and spending daddy's money on more beer, booze, and drugs than Nikki Sixx after winning the lottery. I didn't really care much about the drugs or the dumb, fucked up sluts who were doing them, but I was enticed by the amount of girls walking toward the house and the amount of beer I was undoubtedly going to consume. I parked on the street and hopped into the bed of Blake's truck, as did Joe. Blake got the wonderful idea that because he was bringing a keg, he could park wherever the fuck he wanted. Apparently the spot that he wanted was about twelve feet from the front door. Five guys in a truck pulling up a driveway into a party that rivaled Mardi Gras wasn't the best idea we'd had that night, and that point soon became clear. It was like driving a truck through Times Square on New Years Eve. The crowd parted and moved out of the way, but slowly ,and while hurling all sorts of insults our way. Blake did his part by getting on his PA system and yelling indeterminately at the crowd.
"You ugly fucks! Get outta the road, this isn't a goddamn parade!" The crowd seemed to speed up their movements a little and after crawling through the last bit of the driveway, we made it to the front of the garage. Blake parked directly in front of BOTH garage doors and got out of the truck. He hopped into the bed to help lower the keg to the ground. We carried it into the humongous garage, which was connected to an equally huge finished basement. We didn't want to share our beer with everyone at the party, but we weren't gonna be stingy bastards about it either. We put our keg next to the beer pong table and Sean and I decided we weren't going anywhere else for the rest of the party. The "rest of the party" turned out to be just over an hour. Sean and I had steadily beaten all challengers in beer pong, and we'd been on the table for almost fifteen straight games. Nobody else wanted to play us, so Joe and Blake hopped on to the table to play us again. A small crowd had been gathering while Sean and I were on our win streak, and there was probably about twenty people watching us play. A few more people trickled over to see what was going on when we started talking shit to Blake and Joe across the table. For their part, they did put up a good fight. It was our closest game of the night, but eventually we wore them down. It was only a matter of time until we found our stroke and got them down to their final cup. As Sean got ready to try and end the game, I saw a tall, lanky dude lean over to Blake and say "You fags are gonna lose" in his ear. Blake brushed the kid off and told him to keep his hands to himself. Sean threw his shot. It was almost a perfect shot. It dropped into the cup and began spinning around the plastic about an inch above the beer. Blake leaned down and blew into the cup, pushing the ball out over the rim before it touched the liquid. Good save. Usually we reserved the blow move to females, but we didn't want to make a mess by trying to pull the shots out with our fingers, the guy move, so we allowed it. Sean and I were both fucking with Blake, congratulating him for a good save and telling him he was gay and was still gonna lose when the lanky kid came back.
"Only bitches blow. Are you a bitch?" he asked Blake. For the second time as many minutes, he put his hands on Blake. If there are two things not to do if you don't know Blake, they are put your hands on him and talk shit about him. This kid had just done both in one breath. Before the kid could finish his shit-talking, Blake shoved him HARD in the chest. I'll never forget the sight of the kid going airborn. Blake had about thirty pounds of muscle on the kid, the element of surprise, and the low center of gravity and leverage that would make a high school football coach proud. The kid flew into a cabinet holding the stereo, knocking it over, and continued on to hit a chair and a mini-fridge before slamming into the wall on his back. Everyone in the room froze, and Blake started yelling at the kid. I started laughing but stopped as I heard the thundering sound of who knows how many sets of shoes pounding down the stairs. I turned toward the door, ready to fight my way out of the garage like fucking Double Dragon. One of the first girls through the door was one of the ones who lived in the house, and she immediately began yelling about her stereo and how Blake was going to pay for everything that he damaged. Blake looked at the girl and told her to shut her fucking mouth. Surprisingly, this elicited a few laughs from the surrounding crowd, and nobody else approached any of us. We figured it would probably be best to just leave so we packed up our shit and loaded the keg back into the truck. We were on our way back to the house, all of us drunker than shit, when Blake had his second clutch moment of the night.