He came pounding on my door one night back in the day. Wouldn't stop pounding. Scared the household pets even. I told him I didn't care where the party was, that I was going back to sleep. Told him no, contrary to his baiting, I didn't smell dumb anyway.
Finally shoved him down the building's stairs and into the damned Cutlass he was driving at the time (this was before not letting your friends drive you know) and he peeled out in the public garage and the car jerked side to side as I saw him through the rear windo punching the tape deck. Then Roxy Music blasted out the windows and bounced off the concrete pillars.
Last I saw and heard of that bastard. He probably went off the road in the ditches on the way to Barstow. The highway boys probably put a little white wooden cross up at the spot.