Adventures in Babysitting: Alcoholism

We open on a close-up of a yellow balloon animal on the mantelpiece, and slowly pull back to reveal a standard garden-variety middle-class domicile. Rick Masters (repeat offender) and Kylie Richards come in. 

Rick: “So little Billy should be in there for the rest of the night, he should be fine.”
Kylie: “Oh, okay. Is there any time specific you want me to call?”
Rick: “I should be back in four or five hours, I left $20 on top of the microwave for you in case you want some pizza, the phone number is on the refrigerator in case there’s any emergencies. Just do me one favor, please stay out of the liquor cabinet – ”
Kylie: “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m under the age and I don’t drink on the job anyway.” 
Rick: “Okay, because we had problems with the last babysitter and don’t want a repeat of that.”
Kylie: “All right, don’t worry about it.”
Rick: “Okay, well, the cable works, and if he wakes up just give him a bottle and check his diaper.”
Kylie: “Okay, is there any food that I need – ”
Rick: “There’s formula in the refrigerator I made up for you.”

They exchange a few more pleasantries, Rick heads out to do whatever it is he needs to do, and Kylie sits down and looks around like she’s trying to decide which rule to break first. She flips through a magazine, then exits and comes back with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a tumbler and proceeds to give herself a HEFTY pour of J.D.: 

There’s no mixer. That’s not a Jack and Coke. That’s straight. Kylie raises the glass and inhales about five shots of straight whiskey with only a minor flinch at the end. Okay. Got it. This 20-year-old, 125-pound babysitter has the drinking prowess and iron liver of a forty-year-old Russian cabdriver. Why the fuck not?

Kylie pours and pounds ANOTHER drink, and then, eschewing glasses, chugs the rest of the bottle of Jack and slaps it down. Okay. Somebody’s gonna die. 

Kylie stumbles out of the room, comes back with ANOTHER FULL BOTTLE OF JACK DANIELS, chugs the entire bottle, and promptly passes out on the couch.

And yeah, obviously they poured the Jack out and replaced it with iced tea or something, but still: they made this poor actress drink two full bottles of liquid before she gets the shit fucked out of her. 

We cut forward to Rick Masters wandering back in later that evening, bitching about why Kylie hasn’t been answering the phone. Predictably, he is not pleased that his babysitter is passed out drunk, although honestly, he should probably just be happy she’s not dead from alcohol poisoning. Neither is great, but one involves a lot more paperwork. 

Rick shakes her awake and says that she can’t go home like this without sobering up. Kylie slurs out that she’s totally fine to drive. Kylie gets up and stumbles around the living room a bit, chucks a throw pillow at Rick, jumps on the couch, takes her shoes off and throws them at Rick (!) and then:

Kylie: “You should have sex with me.”

Kylie pops her top off and throws it at Rick.

Rick: “Um, hey – sweetheart – ”
Kylie: “Don’t be a drag, let’s party!”

Kylie jumps on Rick’s lap, her drunk slurring suddenly gone, and rubs her mosquito bites against his face. Rick, apparently, is not concerned with the ethical considerations of cheating on his wife, fucking his babysitter, or fucking someone who drank two full bottles of Jack Daniels and passed out, so they fuck, and hang a lampshade on it. 

Rick: “You should get drunk every time you come over here!”

Yikes. 

So they fuck in a variety of positions and things end the way they normally do.

Kylie: “Don’t tell your mom.” 

Pause. 

Kylie: “Don’t tell your wife.”
Rick: “I won’t tell anybody, you want another drink?”
Kylie: “I want another drink, please.”

No second takes! 

Kissing: No

Oral Sex Reciprocity Scale:

  • Fellatio: 2:08
  • Cunnilingus: 0:55

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