THE STOLEN STOLI

We had a party at clubspit...mayhem '98. The usual folks were there, there was much drinking and debauchery. Live music was, well, live. Mark was there.
I had a half gallon of stoli (before I discovered the magic that is Monopolowa)
I woke up the next morning (early afternoon really) and thought a bloody would ease the pain of a hard night of drinking and playing and singing, only to be left abandoned...the stoli was nowhere to be found.
I looked high and low...I could not find my beloved bottle of stoli.
I was hung over, I was pissed...no...I was fucking AGGED...big time. I had invited all these people into my home, provided them with food music and drink and one of those people RIPPED ME OFF.
Took advantage of us AND stole my fucking vodka.
By the time Mark called I was almost ballistic.
The conversation went something like this:
R: Hello
M: Hey dude...great party...Do you need some help cleaning up?
R: Yeah, sure...someone stole my fucking half gallon of stoli!
M: No way...man that sucks.
R: Yeah...I can't believe it...you invite people into your home for a party and they repay you by stealing your shit.
M: I hear you man..that is shitty.
R: I'm telling you right now...if I ever find out who did it I will stomp a hole in thier sorry fucking ass.I will beat them so hard...NOBODY fucks me over like this and gets away with it
M: (nervously) alright dude, I'll see you in a little bit...help you clean up.
R: Alright man...see you in a bit.

Twenty minutes later the phone rings again...it's Mark.
R: Hello.
M: (Very shakey) Hey man, you won't believe what i just found in the back of kinsey's car.
R: My Stoli?
M: Yeah...wrapped in a baby blanket...I'm not sure how it got there but I guess it was me.
R: Yeah...well did you drink it?
M: No, it's about three quarters full.
R: Well...bring it to me.
M: Your'e not gonna kick my ass are you?
R: Of course not...your'e my bud...you fessed up, you were fucked up...just bring it.
M: You sure?
R: I'm sure.
And he returned the stoli, fully expecting an ass whoopin' that he didn't get.
We had bloodies instead and recounted the evening.
We were friends and he was honest.
And that was more important than a 35 dollar bottle of vodka to me...and him.