I went to a College Party At Auburn with my...

cousin and his girlfriend. I was armed, as always. Kinfe number one in my pants, switch blade in my high top, knuckles in my front pocket. We arrive at the party to find a shitty cover band playing and about 12 frat boys on stage crooning out "Sweet Home Alabama". I knew it. I am in hell. HELL! I'm wearing one of my normal outfits, a fishnet shirt with a bikini top and jeans...Oh, yeah how could I forget, I'm in alabama. I may as well be wearing a clown coustume. The first obnoxious frat boy to speak to me is retardly drunk. And sweaty, in fact I think maybe he is sweating liquor....and he can hardly stand up. "Are you punk rock?" he slurrs at me, while getting waaaaay to close to my face. "No." I reply while giving him an eat shit and die look. He stumbles foreward and blatantly stares at my breasts, "Oh man I have to quit staring." He turns in a stumbly circle and ends up staring at my tits again. "So long as you're not touching." He grabs my arm and asks again, "So are you punk rock?" I reach toward my shoe prepared to grab my switch blade, shove it in his face and reply, "I don't know are girls with swutch blades in their shoes punk rock to you?" Only his equally drunk and probably what he considers "punk rock" girlfriend came out of the bathroom, grabbed his arm and dragged him away to go drunkenly yell at him, brak-up, then have drunk make-up sex. I hate breeders. Stupid drunk man number two, walks up introduces himself and holds out his hand toward me. I don't tell him my name and say, "I don't shake hands." "You give hugs?" He asks. "You really shouldn't touch me. I'm not a nice girl. I'm sociopathic I'll freak out." I tense up, but drunkass just doesn't quit. "Well how close is ok?" "Blade length away." I reply, then my cousin drags me away before I get a chance to demonstrate. Damn.