Reading Online Novel

The Infamous Ellen James(11)



She is quite the sarcastic bitch.





Chapter Eight



“Technology makes it impossible to escape moments of drunken insanity.”



I walk out into the kitchen to find Amy making coffee. Two mugs are already set out on the counter with my favorite French vanilla creamer.

What a sweetheart.

"If I liked vagina, you would definitely be my number one lesbian lover," I tell Amy as I grab ibuprofen from our communal medicine basket. We might as well have a bowl of them on our coffee table like damn M&Ms.

"Aw, Elle, you always know just the right things to say to a girl." Amy smiles at me.

"So are we going to talk about what the hell happened last night?" I glance down at my Shirley Swallows t-shirt.

Amy lets out a loud laugh and shakes her head at me. "Oh, Elle, I'm not even sure how to start this conversation with you."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Depends on what you consider bad. If you attempting to get the bar to make a Harlem Shake video is something you would consider bad, then yes. Prepare yourself to hear the worst." She pours coffee into both mugs.

"Whaaat? A Harlem Shake video? Oh, fuck me. Please tell me there is no documentation of this."

Amy picks her phone up off the counter and hands it to me. "Actually there is video proof."

"Video proof!?" I quickly take the phone out of her hand and scroll to her videos.

I don't even have to ask which one it is, because I see a video icon that is a picture of me with my Shirley Swallows shirt. I'm assuming this shirt is in reference to our nursing manager Shirley. I am praying she is not directly involved with last night's shenanigans.

I take my coffee mug off the kitchen counter, toss back the ibuprofen, and sit down at the table. Amy sits down next to me, and I can tell she is fighting back a smile. I don't even have to look over; I can feel her enjoyment. I sigh in anticipation before pressing play.

The video starts with Amy turning the camera towards her; she smiles, her brown eyes sparkling as she drunkenly says, "You can thank me later for this."

Add 100 cunt points. Supreme cunt status achieved by the dickhead sitting next to me.

The camera turns towards the corner of the bar. I notice that someone with a motorcycle helmet is standing completely still while everyone else in the bar is going about their business, conversing, and drinking. Then I notice that said person is wearing a Shirley Swallows t-shirt.

Oh, no.

The intro to the Harlem Shake begins to play loudly in the bar, and that is when I begin to awkwardly thrust my pelvis to the beat of the music. Don't worry, the motorcycle helmet is still on my fucking head.

I'm going to kill Amy for this.

The song continues, and I am still in the corner of the bar, gyrating and pelvic thrusting like a god damn idiot. The camera swings back towards Amy, and she says, "Wait for it." Then you hear the lyric "Do the Harlem Shake" blaring from the jukebox as the camera turns back towards me in the corner.

Oh, god.

Fuck my life and my ability to continually make terrible decisions when I'm shitfaced.

The motorcycle helmet has now been replaced by my t-shirt.

Yes, my t-shirt is now tied on top of my head and I am thrashing my body around in nothing but my cut-off jean shorts and black lace bra. Someone plan Amy's funeral because this girl is not going to live another day.

But it gets even better…

The Harlem Shake is still blaring in the background, and I abruptly stop thrash dancing because I am finally realizing that everyone in the bar has stopped what they are doing to watch my crazy ass act a fool.

No one is joining in on this little Harlem Shake revival.

We have reached the part in the video where I get very angry and begin to scream at everyone in the bar. I am now standing on top of the bar and roaring profanities I didn't even know existed while still wearing nothing but my bra, cut-off jean shorts, and t-shirt still wrapped around my head.

Could this get any worse?

Yes, actually it can get worse. And it does.

The video continues with me shouting while I can barely hear Amy's giggle in the background. The bartender grabs me by the knees and throws me over his shoulder. I am thrashing around and yelling for him to put me down, but this doesn't even faze him.

He proceeds to haul my stupid ass out of the bar. The video ends with the bar cheering and clapping when the bartender comes back in sans the idiot drunk girl who just managed to make a complete fool of herself.

I set the phone down on the kitchen table and slowly lift my eyes to look at Amy. She is doing her famous silent laugh as tears are streaming down her cheeks.

"Amy! What the hell?!"

She isn't holding back the laughter now. Amy is laughing so hard that she is snorting. Her chest is vibrating with laughter as she slaps her knee and wails in hysterics. My anger level is rising to new heights at the moment, and I decide its best to leave the kitchen before I start re-enacting Fight Club. I am so unbelievably pissed that I just stand up, throw my mug in the sink, and stomp my way back towards my bedroom.