The Jersey Shore is a dangerous place.
Not only for my Japanese sandals, this morning found burned and battered, as though by acid (very well the sludge I danced through all night), the leather cherry leaves peeled off.
Not only for my head, pressed in a hangover vice, not at all soothed the night prior by the cheese fries at the beach (nor with the brilliant discovery of one housemate to roll the cheese fries inside a piece of mushroom pizza).
But most of all, dangerous for this:
A birthday celebration caused immature revelry, multiple hookups, and pirate’s booty from Party Central.
Within the treasure trove were sheriff’s badges, shrimp squirt guns, giant pixie stix, temporary tattoos, golden medals and coins, plastic paratroopers, blow-up parrots and one sword.
Something else, too. Those little sponges that look like nothing, then expand tenfold with a few drops of water to reveal a dinosaur or exotic animal. Though, these were in pill forms.
In my inebriated state I thought it would be funny to toss a pill into the top of the birthday girl’s yet-to-be-funneled Miller Lite. I think I imagined it would immediately absorb and clog the tube or get stuck in her mouth and have her spitting out bits. Because when you’re drunk, things seem like a good idea, and things seem like they’re going to be funny.
Except, the pill didn’t immediately dissolve and the sponge didn’t immediately appear. And because she couldn’t finish the beer, because we had already done so many, I finished it off for her (this, as a reminder, was not thirty seconds after I had dropped the pill in).
When I was done, the pill was gone.
A moment later, I realized what had happened. Someone’s brother beat me to the punch.
“Where’s the pill?”
Where was the pill?
It wasn’t in the funnel. It hadn’t stopped up the tubing or fallen out or stuck to the side. The pill had been sucked down with the beer, was either in me or the birthday girl, and when it sloshed inside a stomach it was going to expand.
The only question was, which of us had been so unlucky? I posed this to the group, as the birthday girl grew mildly hysterical and everyone else doubled over in laughter.
“No,” the brother said, between fits of giggles. “That’s…not…the question!”
I felt my stomach flip, probably self-induced by my overactive imagination.
“The question is…” he said. “The question is, when is one of you going to PASS it??!”
Oh right.
Not only for my Japanese sandals, this morning found burned and battered, as though by acid (very well the sludge I danced through all night), the leather cherry leaves peeled off.
Not only for my head, pressed in a hangover vice, not at all soothed the night prior by the cheese fries at the beach (nor with the brilliant discovery of one housemate to roll the cheese fries inside a piece of mushroom pizza).
But most of all, dangerous for this:
A birthday celebration caused immature revelry, multiple hookups, and pirate’s booty from Party Central.
Within the treasure trove were sheriff’s badges, shrimp squirt guns, giant pixie stix, temporary tattoos, golden medals and coins, plastic paratroopers, blow-up parrots and one sword.
Something else, too. Those little sponges that look like nothing, then expand tenfold with a few drops of water to reveal a dinosaur or exotic animal. Though, these were in pill forms.
In my inebriated state I thought it would be funny to toss a pill into the top of the birthday girl’s yet-to-be-funneled Miller Lite. I think I imagined it would immediately absorb and clog the tube or get stuck in her mouth and have her spitting out bits. Because when you’re drunk, things seem like a good idea, and things seem like they’re going to be funny.
Except, the pill didn’t immediately dissolve and the sponge didn’t immediately appear. And because she couldn’t finish the beer, because we had already done so many, I finished it off for her (this, as a reminder, was not thirty seconds after I had dropped the pill in).
When I was done, the pill was gone.
A moment later, I realized what had happened. Someone’s brother beat me to the punch.
“Where’s the pill?”
Where was the pill?
It wasn’t in the funnel. It hadn’t stopped up the tubing or fallen out or stuck to the side. The pill had been sucked down with the beer, was either in me or the birthday girl, and when it sloshed inside a stomach it was going to expand.
The only question was, which of us had been so unlucky? I posed this to the group, as the birthday girl grew mildly hysterical and everyone else doubled over in laughter.
“No,” the brother said, between fits of giggles. “That’s…not…the question!”
I felt my stomach flip, probably self-induced by my overactive imagination.
“The question is…” he said. “The question is, when is one of you going to PASS it??!”
Oh right.
Will keep you updated…
8 comments:
I hope it was the birthday girl!
OMG...hilarious!
this is why the best fiction is derived from real life--you can't make incidents like this up
You may have a problem with alcohol if this incident seems amusing to you.
Or you might have a SENSE OF HUMOR.
That's f'ing hilarious. Good luck!
Holy crap, that is funny. I used to be very amused indeed with those little pill-sponges at bathtime as a child, but I doubt I ever considered swallowing one.
Hope everything comes out OK!
'anonymous' sounds cranky but i'm inclined to agree....will definitely stay tuned to find out the resolution of this (um, er) 'interesting' situation....
did the dinosaur ever make his appearance?
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