Roommate issues, and I play wingman

 

I had some sort of roommate thing going on where I'd fallen under the condemnation of the group I'd been living with. I can't remember what it was, but it was something like leaving too many beer bottles laying around or not respecting the common areas. I had to redeem myself, so I picked on my roommates one at a time to try to win them over.

One of my roommates was a younger fellow named Reice. In real life, I'd known this guy in junior high. His dad was a sound engineer and had developed one of the first stereophonic microphones. We used to write songs together and record them by singing into the oddly shaped dual microphones, which utilized a Styrofoam mannequin head to achieve a natural stereo effect.  

In my dream, Reice needed a little help to get back on the horse as far as his game with the ladies. Apparently, he'd had a few failed attempts to start conversations, and he was now gun shy and "failing to engage." I decided he needed a wing man, so I followed him around the grocery store attempting to talk him up to a group of young females.

"You have to admit," I said fearlessly and without the slightest sense of social correctness, "that my man here is a catch." I pulled his baseball cap off and showed them his Beatlesque haircut.

"You're right," the leader of the girl gang agreed. "He'll do nicely." And with that, she snatched him up into their group as they walked around the store. 

They were picking up party supplies for a big she-bang that they were throwing later that night. Not wanting to miss out, and still having several other roommates that I needed to rectify things with, I pushed my luck and hit the leader up one more time.

"Now all I have to do is secure an invitation to that party for the rest of my group and I'll be golden," I said, using my own internal monologue to make my request known.

"Not so fast, shorty," the girl said to me. "You're a good wing man, but you'll have to prove yourself on your own to get in with us."

I guess I never achieved that goal, since later on I found myself outside the party, and I had to use some kind of monocular to spy out what was going on inside through a window. I was going to relay the information to the other members of my household, providing whatever intel was going to be needed to crash the party.

Reice was going to give some kind of signal using beer bottles in the window as kind of cue, like "one if by land, two if by sea" kind of a thing. There were three bottles in the window, so I think he'd forgotten the protocol and just started drinking and setting his beers down willy-nilly.

I couldn't ascertain the meaning of the the intel, so my roommates and I had to camp out on the lawn, my status as wing man secured, but my living situation with the roommates kind of tenuous. I had to awaken soon thereafter, so things were just left that way.