Giving a championship-calibre performance, my roommate passed out at 11:30 am on a Sunday prior to a big hoops game, having started drinking grain at 8:00 am. We went to the nearby hardware store to get some spray paint. They stocked green, gold and blue Rustoleum. We covered him head to toe, including his Timberland boots and watch. It was below zero out but we threw him, still half passed out, in the back of a buddy's VW bus, shirtless.
He came to, rallied, and got kicked out of the game. He went to the emergency room that Monday with breathing problems. The first entry in the doctor's H/P read:' "Was spray painted."
This all star can be seen piling onto the Rocket after his kickoff return TD v. Miami ca. 1990. Wearing a "Fuck Miami" t-shirt for all to see, including Bernie Lincicome, who wrote about it.
He also slept in the bushes outside Dillon one Tuesday am, and awoke when an ugly coed on her way to class poked him with a stick to see if he was alive.
He also had a bright idea to prevail in a century club contest, where the object is to drink 100 shots of beer in 100 minutes, without leaving the room to drain lizard. His idea: Willie taped his willy inside a Skippy jar with duct tape. He lost, with elan. He overflowed and walked around the rest of the day having pissed his pants.
My favorite: at a party on Corby Street on St. Partick's day, as a party was being broken up by South Bend's finest, he chided from the front porch: "You can't arrest me; this is a party school." As the cops made a move toward him, he leapt off the front porch and lit out for the back yard, looking over his shoulder for his pursuers. He was form-tackled by a lady copim by running around the oother side of the house and bushwhacked him. His revenge: en route to the pokey, he let a St. Patrick's day, 12-hours of drinking green tap beerfart in the patrol car. As the stench wafted into the front seat, Willie queried: "How do you like that one?", causing the cops to pull over to aerate the vehicle.