I’ve had a lot of fun tonight, but, as evening winds down and dawn winds up, I can’t help wondering which one of you is going to let me bang you. We played our drinking games and took our cigarette breaks and I just broke my last ukulele string

Maybe you’re all so stoned and drunk that you’ve grown weary. However, a certain animation in your collective eyes implies you’re only weary with waiting, waiting for me to make up my mind or for one of your two friends to jump me.

Clearly, Lindsay, you are most DTF. Your right leg has brushed mine four times over the past six hours and you keep asking me to get you more water. But there’s a certain tremor in your parched request that suggests you might still be in love with my sworn frenemy, the bastard Paul.

On to Rebecca. You stroked my index finger when you passed me the bowl before and even applauded my selection of “Return of the Mack”. Yet you seem vaguely hesitant, as if you sniff a crush in the air that I cannot yet detect. And you’re sort of plain looking, too.

Jenny, apparently, you’re just not having it. You’re sitting with your arms crossed and your knees open and one eye closed. But a couple hours ago you chuckled when I did my Borat impression. So I can’t rule you out entirely.

As for me, I’m not particularly picky. I enjoy all three of your bodies equally, or rather, I think I could.

The best way to decide who gets to sleep with me would be to flip a coin. But, since there aren’t any three-sided coins, I’m going to go to the bathroom to puke. Whoever knocks on the door to check on me first shall be my lover.

Glenn Woods lives in Blanchester, Ohio. He keeps an awful lot of bird cages for someone without any talon scratches on his wrists.