Stifler strode into the school with a tense look on his face. He and long
time girlfriend Cadence broke up because she claimed he didn't know the
first thing about girls. Hello! He was a master with the ladies, or was
anyway until he met Cadence. But still, he didn't change enough. Maybe Jim
could help him. Yeah, Jim. Jim was married and all; he must had done
something right.
"Good morning coach Stifler," a tall boy wearing a football jersey said as Stifler walked past him to the gym.
"Not now Robinson," Stifler snapped back slamming the locker room door. No one was in it, which was good because no one saw him punch in one of the lockers and if no one saw that, he could easily blame it on some pathetic pussy that didn't have the guts to kill a fly. The office was empty so right away Stifler dug in his drawer for his address book his mother told him to keep. Right away he searched for Jim and Michelle. He found them in the back of the book, their phone number scribbled on a piece of napkin from the wedding. He hoped he would catch Jim before work. He dialed the numbers in carefully and held the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" a woman answered. At first, Stifler was about to hang up. Then he realized it was only Michelle.
"Michelle? Is Jim there?" he asked.
"No, I'm afraid he just left. Who's calling?"
"Its me, Stifler. Er-Steve," he said, knowing Cadence only referred to him as Steve to everyone.
"Oh. Hi Stifler. I heard about you and Cadence," she said, a tad disappointed. Stifler began to rub the back of his neck nervously as the first period filled in.
"Yeah, that's why I'm calling for Jim. I really need to talk to him and stuff. Listen; just tell him to call me at my old number. If he doesn't have it, then tell him I wrote it on the bottom of the mug I sent him last Christmas," Stifler said, feeling stupid that was the only way to keep in touch with Jim. Michelle let out a laugh.
"Oh, we have it. Jim re-wrote it in an address book, just in case." He smiled. At least he wasn't the only dipshit with an address book.
"Thanks," he said and hung up. There wasn't much else to say to her. Stifler sighed and dropped his address book back in the bottom of the drawer. He picked it up and held it, while wiping his pictures of Cadence off the desk and into the drawer. He slammed the drawer and placed his address book neatly in the corner of his desk, the smirked. "I'm such a dipshit," he laughed.
*
Stifler sat in the bleachers rubbing his hands together. For an early September night, it sure was cold. It was nearly dark. He wondered where Jim could possibly be. He was just about ready to leave when he saw Jim coming up the bleachers waving.
"Stifler!" he called out, trying to job, but his cold body barely functioned.
"Jim, how are ya fucker?" he asked hugging him. Jim stepped back a little and began to rub his hands much like Stifler was moments ago.
"Good, good. Michelle's pregnant," he said with a smile. Stifler nudged him.
"You little devil. Want to go somewhere warmer?" he asked heading for his car. Jim nodded and followed him. There was only one car in the lot. Stifler looked around for a mini van or some other car a married pussy would have. "Where's your car?" he asked. Jim shrugged.
"Michelle dropped me off, I told her you would drive me home." Stifler unlocked his Bronco 4 X 4 and turned the heat on. The Bronco was old and beat up, and smelled sort of funny, but she ran good, and Stifler loved her.
"Where should we go? My place?" Stifler asked pulling out of the school's parking lot. Jim shrugged.
"Whatever. So what did you need to talk about? Something about Cadence I think," Jim said. Stifler turned a left.
"Well, not so much about Cadence. But about girls in general. Okay, so I got laid more in high school and college more then you ever did," Stifler said with a laugh, "but, when I get ready to propose to one, they just go and break up with me because I don't get girls. I mean, I just don't get what she's saying. How did you get Michelle to like you?" Jim coughed and moved in his seat uneasily.
"Ah, well. It was kind of by accident. We really didn't want to be together. So I cant help you." Stifler hit his steering wheel.
"Damn it. And I can't ask Oz, he and Heather moved off somewhere and Kevin dropped off the face of the Earth, and shitbreak is in love with my mother so he's no fucking good. Thank god my mom married that gasoline guy after your wedding, huh?" Jim shrugged.
"I don't know how to help you Stifler. Maybe Finch can help you, but not on how to get a girl to like you or whatever, but like how to understand girls," Jim suggested. Stifler shrugged and pulled into his driveway. Jim got out of the car and stared at the house for a moment.
"It's been a long time since I've been here," Jim said shoving his hands in his pockets. He changed to something he would wear back in high school. Stifler opened the door and looked around. True, it was his home. But for the past two years he had been living with Cadence, he had only moved back in that morning. Jim followed Stifler inside and sat on his couch.
"Wouldn't it be pretty cool if we had a party here with all our old friends?" Stifler said turning on the kitchen light.
"Yeah. How would we contact everyone though?" Jim said, really considering the idea. Stifler came back with two beers, tossing one to Jim.
"I don't know. Seems kind of hard now that I think about it," Stifler said sitting on his couch. Jim looked at him. About four years ago, there would be a hundred people wandering the house. Stifler would be trying to get some poor girl drunk and bring her upstairs while he would standing there with Kevin and Oz, holding a red cup of beer in one hand with his other hand buried in his pocket. Stifler would walk around and be flat out rude and obnoxious to everyone in his path, but now he would probably be much more humane and actually complement people. To bad it was too late for all that.
"I think you should call Finch. He knows a lot about all that intellectual crap. And he totally understands girls, he is like an adult you," Jim said, Stifler shrugged.
"Shitbreak wouldn't come help me. The fucker hates my guts, plus I don't fancy him that much either," Stifler said. Jim could see Stifler become purple with rage. Jim picked up the phone and tossed it to Stifler.
"He'll come if you tell him I'm here. He wont be too freaked out."
"Whatever," Stifler said and dialed the number Jim told him to dial. "Hello? Shitbreak, or I mean, Finch?"
"Good morning coach Stifler," a tall boy wearing a football jersey said as Stifler walked past him to the gym.
"Not now Robinson," Stifler snapped back slamming the locker room door. No one was in it, which was good because no one saw him punch in one of the lockers and if no one saw that, he could easily blame it on some pathetic pussy that didn't have the guts to kill a fly. The office was empty so right away Stifler dug in his drawer for his address book his mother told him to keep. Right away he searched for Jim and Michelle. He found them in the back of the book, their phone number scribbled on a piece of napkin from the wedding. He hoped he would catch Jim before work. He dialed the numbers in carefully and held the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" a woman answered. At first, Stifler was about to hang up. Then he realized it was only Michelle.
"Michelle? Is Jim there?" he asked.
"No, I'm afraid he just left. Who's calling?"
"Its me, Stifler. Er-Steve," he said, knowing Cadence only referred to him as Steve to everyone.
"Oh. Hi Stifler. I heard about you and Cadence," she said, a tad disappointed. Stifler began to rub the back of his neck nervously as the first period filled in.
"Yeah, that's why I'm calling for Jim. I really need to talk to him and stuff. Listen; just tell him to call me at my old number. If he doesn't have it, then tell him I wrote it on the bottom of the mug I sent him last Christmas," Stifler said, feeling stupid that was the only way to keep in touch with Jim. Michelle let out a laugh.
"Oh, we have it. Jim re-wrote it in an address book, just in case." He smiled. At least he wasn't the only dipshit with an address book.
"Thanks," he said and hung up. There wasn't much else to say to her. Stifler sighed and dropped his address book back in the bottom of the drawer. He picked it up and held it, while wiping his pictures of Cadence off the desk and into the drawer. He slammed the drawer and placed his address book neatly in the corner of his desk, the smirked. "I'm such a dipshit," he laughed.
*
Stifler sat in the bleachers rubbing his hands together. For an early September night, it sure was cold. It was nearly dark. He wondered where Jim could possibly be. He was just about ready to leave when he saw Jim coming up the bleachers waving.
"Stifler!" he called out, trying to job, but his cold body barely functioned.
"Jim, how are ya fucker?" he asked hugging him. Jim stepped back a little and began to rub his hands much like Stifler was moments ago.
"Good, good. Michelle's pregnant," he said with a smile. Stifler nudged him.
"You little devil. Want to go somewhere warmer?" he asked heading for his car. Jim nodded and followed him. There was only one car in the lot. Stifler looked around for a mini van or some other car a married pussy would have. "Where's your car?" he asked. Jim shrugged.
"Michelle dropped me off, I told her you would drive me home." Stifler unlocked his Bronco 4 X 4 and turned the heat on. The Bronco was old and beat up, and smelled sort of funny, but she ran good, and Stifler loved her.
"Where should we go? My place?" Stifler asked pulling out of the school's parking lot. Jim shrugged.
"Whatever. So what did you need to talk about? Something about Cadence I think," Jim said. Stifler turned a left.
"Well, not so much about Cadence. But about girls in general. Okay, so I got laid more in high school and college more then you ever did," Stifler said with a laugh, "but, when I get ready to propose to one, they just go and break up with me because I don't get girls. I mean, I just don't get what she's saying. How did you get Michelle to like you?" Jim coughed and moved in his seat uneasily.
"Ah, well. It was kind of by accident. We really didn't want to be together. So I cant help you." Stifler hit his steering wheel.
"Damn it. And I can't ask Oz, he and Heather moved off somewhere and Kevin dropped off the face of the Earth, and shitbreak is in love with my mother so he's no fucking good. Thank god my mom married that gasoline guy after your wedding, huh?" Jim shrugged.
"I don't know how to help you Stifler. Maybe Finch can help you, but not on how to get a girl to like you or whatever, but like how to understand girls," Jim suggested. Stifler shrugged and pulled into his driveway. Jim got out of the car and stared at the house for a moment.
"It's been a long time since I've been here," Jim said shoving his hands in his pockets. He changed to something he would wear back in high school. Stifler opened the door and looked around. True, it was his home. But for the past two years he had been living with Cadence, he had only moved back in that morning. Jim followed Stifler inside and sat on his couch.
"Wouldn't it be pretty cool if we had a party here with all our old friends?" Stifler said turning on the kitchen light.
"Yeah. How would we contact everyone though?" Jim said, really considering the idea. Stifler came back with two beers, tossing one to Jim.
"I don't know. Seems kind of hard now that I think about it," Stifler said sitting on his couch. Jim looked at him. About four years ago, there would be a hundred people wandering the house. Stifler would be trying to get some poor girl drunk and bring her upstairs while he would standing there with Kevin and Oz, holding a red cup of beer in one hand with his other hand buried in his pocket. Stifler would walk around and be flat out rude and obnoxious to everyone in his path, but now he would probably be much more humane and actually complement people. To bad it was too late for all that.
"I think you should call Finch. He knows a lot about all that intellectual crap. And he totally understands girls, he is like an adult you," Jim said, Stifler shrugged.
"Shitbreak wouldn't come help me. The fucker hates my guts, plus I don't fancy him that much either," Stifler said. Jim could see Stifler become purple with rage. Jim picked up the phone and tossed it to Stifler.
"He'll come if you tell him I'm here. He wont be too freaked out."
"Whatever," Stifler said and dialed the number Jim told him to dial. "Hello? Shitbreak, or I mean, Finch?"