My Good Friend Johnny The Slick-Handed: A True Tale of Inebriated Halloween Hilarity 

I’ve always heard that it’s the quiet ones you need to look out for. You know the type – those soft-spoken, mysterious ones who are tough to get a read on. That sly snake in the grass that no one sees coming. Widely known as individuals of few words, it makes their voice seem all the more important when they do happen to speak up.

I happen to be fortunate enough to have a good friend who embodies this archetype to a T. All in all, he’s a great dude. He’s considerate, smart, always willing to help and an absolute hoot to get a drink or two with.

The gentleman to whom I refer is none other than Johnny Wiggins – international man of mystery. To be frank, he’s the envy of us all…evidently his reserved personality is irresistible to the lady-folk. Anytime a new, on the market female joins the restaurant’s ranks, it’s so far been an inevitability that they gravitate towards Mr. Wiggins. All kidding aside, it’s actually quite impressive. Like, the guy should seriously write a book for the rest of us loud mouths on how to draw the proper attention.

Behold, Mr Wiggins: pre-scenanigans.

Anyway, I think that’s enough description for you to get the point. My main purpose of writing this is to tell the absurd story of how ole Johnny here ended up with a completely random stranger’s $75 Michael Kors hoodie.

Our tale begins at the patriotic establishment that is USA Bar and Grill, a nice little hole in the wall situated smack dab in the heart of Mt. Juliet, TN. After a long day’s work, myself and my two friends (Mr William Burkett and, of course, our hero Mr Wiggins) decided to grab a drink, shoot some pool, and relax.

As is frequently the case, these somewhat tame plans evolved into a much more entertaining endeavor, as we eventually decided to go downtown and join in on some Midtown Halloween fun.

For the sake of brevity, I’ll save our other escapades for a later date. You see, due to our lack of planning and spontaneous decision to go out, we were vastly underdressed for the occasion. In the crowded bars of Winners & Losers, we found ourselves surrounded by a sea of people dressed in the various costumes that typically make up Halloween events.

Perhaps due to our level headed degree of sobriety, Will and I didn’t seem to particularly care that we didn’t fit in. In fact, no one had even mentioned the fact that we were costumeless. It simply wasn’t a concern.

Or at least so we thought.

About an hour after our arrival, we discovered that Johnny had drank approximatey 47% of his natural body weight in vodka/Red Bulls. Will and I hadn’t even noticed! (Snake in the grass, remember?) Well this turned out to spark the event which resulted in our friend accidentally swiping the infamous, intricately threaded grey hoodie that now hangs on his closet door.

The three of us are standing there on the outside patio, talking to a buddy of ours we happened to run into. After randomly disappearing for a couple minutes, were surprised by an overtly stressed out Mr Wiggins, who proceeds to point out our lack of costumes.

Naturally, Will and I say “So?” To which our hero replies “WE NEED COSTUMES!”

He then gets a great idea. Matt drove! Everyone knows he hoards half his closet around in his car, so surely there’s something in the car that will work.

Will and I, again, say “dude for real, who cares?” But Mr Wiggins was on a mission. So he looks to me with an urgency I’ve never before seen and asks me for my car keys.

I look over to Will, who shrugs. “Whatever”, he says.

Will. Ever the intelligent voice of reason. Always make sure to have a Will around if your crew is planning to do something stupid.

Good point. Surely Johnny can survive the short walk to my car without supervision and make it back in one piece, right?

So off he stumbled, into the darkness of the side street we parked on.

A short time later Will and I were leaning on the railing, enjoying some crisp, Tennessee brewed craft beer. Suddenly, Will points to a sketchy looking figure approaching the bar.

“Is that freakin Johnny?” He asks.

Sure enough it was. Thank God, he made it back. But….but wait. “Wth is he wearing?” I ask, to which Will responds “I guess he found a hoodie. What the Hell? That’s not even a costume!”

A valid point, indeed. But as the owner of the clothing, my thoughts were on something different completely.

…..I don’t own a gray hoodie.

I look at Will and tell him of Johnny’s seemingly obvious sorcery. Where on Earth did he get that thing? So there we stood, patiently anticipating his arrival so we could get to the bottom of this dilemma.

Finally reaching us, he looks at us with a slightly drunken smirk and a glazed twinkle in his eye.

“Thanks Matt!” He cheerfully says, clearly satisfied with his transformation of going from someone without a costume….to someone without a costume.

With a look of bewilderment, Will asks Johnny “dude where did you get that hoodie?”

Johnny calmly returns my keys, saying “um, Matt’s car. Where else?”

Naturally, I chime in: “Johnny….what exactly did this car look like?”

“Um, it looked like your car dude. We did sort of ride here together after all.”

As we exchange looks of confusion, Will then smartly asks “Johnny….did you have to unlock the car?”

Looking up as if for his answer, Mr Wiggins slowly returns his gaze toward us with an enormous grin. “Noooo.” He says.

Johnny, post-shenanigans.

It was at that point that we realized how exactly events had transpired. It became clear that our friend had walked to a completey different street, to a completely different car, which by sheer luck just so happened to be unlocked. Our friend then, not even attempting to use my key, reaches down and opens this random car’s door (which incidentally looked nothing like the interior of my clothes-ridden car that he himself had literally just rode in). And then finally, as if all this wasn’t enough, just so happens to find a random gray hoodie, magically hanging in the back seat as if by some inexplicable Divine Will. Oh, and the size just so happened to fit him perfectly.

It was a coincidence of astronomical proportions.

So after uncontrollably laughing like school girls for about five minutes straight at the absurdity of our counterpart, Will decides to do a little due diligence, checking the tag of Johnny newly acquired attire (which again, was in no way a costume). Turns out it’s a posh, luxurious Michael Kors hoodie.

Upon this realization, we then acknowledged the reality of what had occurred, feeing somewhat guilty for accidentally taking such a nice article of cloth. So upon our departure, we venture to find a way to return this surely prized possession of our random victim whom we will unfortunately never know.

Naturally, we failed miserably.

Turns out that good ole Master Fate ultimately decided to reward our friends hilarious, yet sort of messed up at the same time if you really think about it, mistake. His reward, of course, being (what I would guess is) the nicest hoodie that Johnny has ever owned.

So that, friends, is the story of how Johnny Wiggins, international man of mystery, wound up with a random grey sweatshirt.

The moral of this story, if I were to venture a guess, is this:

Don’t let your drunk friend wander aimlessly downtown, alone, looking for a costume he obviously didn’t need in the first place.

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