FatKidsLie

I couple of weeks ago I had to take a mid-term exam in my Probabilities & Statistics class. I got sick from eating a bad burrito or something. I know I shouldn’t eat at questionable taco stands run by guys that don’t even speak Spanish but 3 tacos for a dollar is too good a deal to pass up even if it means that you shit your asshole inside out.

So I get up in the morning and instantly puke out a few organs. I then go and shower and then think that I’m gonna fart but I totally shit in the shower. I’ve NEVER done that. Not even as a baby.

When I was a baby the WORST thing I’ve ever done was going boomboom in the cat’s litter box. I was totally proud of it too. Because I thought that I was helping the environment by not having to flush. Also around that time I peed and I missed the toilet and then my mom got mad at me and rubbed my nose in it like a dog.

So anyway I mistakenly think that I can take this mid-term exam that covers everything up to conditional discrete and continuous probability and also reverse conditional probabilities… Midway through the exam I realize that I’m gonna be sick… so I hurry up and answer as best as I can, but I can barely read the questions since I’m running a fever and I’m sweating a gallon an hour….

As soon as I’m done I hand in the test and run to the bathroom. I sit on the toilet and EXPLODE all over inside it. While on the bowl I call my sister and say “Yo! I need a ride…. I’m sick and if I have to take the bus then someone’s gonna die. And it’s gonna be me”

I then realize I’m gonna puke again so I stand up and totally don’t make it to the bowl where I was puking. I wind up puking ALL over the floor. Puking bits of steak and onion burrito. Identifiable chunks. So that you would know, even without a biology degree or any forensic training. You could also see the Pepto Bismal in the mix.

Midway through my projectile hurling I realize that I have to shoot some shit outta my ass. Again. So as I’m turning around, trying to hold my pants out of the puke on the floor, I slip and get puke all over my pants. And then shit all over the floor. The sight and smell of my shit and the knowledge that I’m now sitting in a puddle of my own puke-shit makes me puke down my shirt.

I call my sister again, and tell her to bring me a change of clothes.

Why didn’t I take my pants off and hang them up? WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT”!?!!? the answer is “Me. Now. Forever.”

Just to not take that risk.

So now I’m filthy. And I realize that I answered a question TOTALLY wrong on the test. I figured that I couldn’t really go and re-answer it because I was covered in my own sickness. Even though that would PROBABLY be evidence enough that I was sick so that I COULD re-answer that part… but I didn’t wanna bother.

All I wanted was to hide.

Like an emo kid from reality.

So I peek out of the bathroom and see that nobody’s around. So I run for the stairs and make it to the downstairs bathroom. Where I lock myself in a stall and start to cry.

I hear, from the hallway some howls of protest and then a bunch of students from my class come down and I hear that they could identify my dinner from the other night (Carne Enchilada taco vomit has a … UNIQUE smell…). And that at least one of them had added to it (Bacon Egg & Cheese Sandwich from the deli by campus).

I get a call from my sister that she’s on campus and I tell her to bring me my clothes… She goes to the window and hands them to me. She also took the initiative and bought some baby lotion so i don’t get diaper rash from my filthy sickness. I climb out of the window and I walk to the car.

the end.

The year was 1990, Summer… I was a dorky looking 10 year old fatboy with a fannypack full of fake plastic frogs and snakes and bugs etc. My friend Andrew called it a “creepypack”. We all had them. It was our “thing”.

Anydangway,

She was this cute little thing, with an awesome haircut. Her big sister did it for her, half went to her sholders the other half was like… almost a buzzcut. She had green and purple streaks in it. And ALWAYS wore mismatching … well… EVERYthing. She was new wave, even though I didn’t know what new wave was then.

We became “good friends” at the barbecue after “tie dye day” at summer camp. She had some ash or smoke in her eye… i had a bottle of water and i was helping her to clean it out. That’s when her boyfriend came over and tried to pound my doughy ass into the ground. Of course she had a boyfriend. There had to be drama.

For, life without drama is CSPAN.

We went rolling down the “Heart Attack Hill” kicking and punching each other. Landed in the lake. The lake isn’t what you think it is. It is where all the latrines empty out into. It’s a septic tank. And we fell in.

She was laughing as the counselors hosed us off, stripped down. Butt-assed-nekkid. Holding our shrinkaged willies. Crying.

I never got a kiss from her. Or felt up her noboobies. Or nuthin.

I did get a black eye. And a tetanus shot. And a wart on my left middle finger.

It was a good summer.

BTW: Sorry for the absence. I’ve been otherwise detained.