One spring; during the early morning aftermath of some belligerent weekend party; my associates (John, Philly-Phresh, Zack, Frenzy) and I found ourselves stranded in some poor girls' basement. She had foolishly invited us to a party in her parents home and we had severely misbehaved. Within a few hours we had caused; either directly or indirectly; fights with the locals, property damage, vehicular damage and a brazen young whore to bail down a steep flight of stairs.
Our indiscretions had caused our young hostess to cry at her own party. On her birthday no less. As the night plowed forward most of the sensible guests had already left or had already been kicked out. Through some drunken miscalculation my friends and I were left behind and forced to spend the night. Our graciuos hostess informed us that she and her posse of irritated, female friends would be sleeping upstairs, while we; because obviously we were vile and disgusting people; would be banished to the unfurnished, concrete basement.
Passing out in a dirty basement on a mysteriously colored matress I could do. But I refused to do it on an empty stomach. Unfortunately, there was no food in this house. Also, there was nowhere near this house where one could obtain food at this time of night. Mad with hunger (and drugs and alcohol), I began rummaging around the cold basement. It was then that I discovered a large freezer-box, and by 'freeze' i mean 'sub-zero'. The inside of the box was one gigantic, solid, icy mass of preserved foodstuff. There was nothing readily edible, but it was the only game in town. After much bashing and chiseling (with a large wrench) I managed to free a modestly sized piece of frozen chicken breast. It was ugly, and covered with wrench dents, but it was food dammit.
I nearly broke my teeth, but managed to get a few morsels inside of me. When I returned to the room we were sleeping in, I found that Phil was still awake. "Is that fucking food?", he spat. "Chicken," I replied, and tossed him the still frozen chunk of poultry. As I lay down to pass out I heard Phil gnawing in vain on the rock-like meat.
Unable to sleep, I tossed and turned for the good part of an hour. It was then that I heard someone eating. Someone eating sloppily, with their mouth open. "Phil? Is that you?" "Yeah." "What are you eating?" "Here," he said, as he passed me a warm and jiggly little mass. "Dude, is this the chicken?" "Yeah." "How did you get it so warm?", I asked. "I thawed it out in my hands," he proudly exclaimed. Thankfully, it was dark in the basement, so I couldn't see the moist, disgusting little morsel Phil had heated with his grubby hands. This made it easier to eat without thinking of what I was actually eating. I ate it quickly and I ate it all. Then sleep came.
I awoke shortly after to the unpleasant sensation of having a stomach full of spinning, electrified, razor blades. There was a war going on inside me, and I was losing. I found I was unable to stand upright, so I had to crawl up the basement stairs to the kitchen, where i staggered, moaning loudly, past our young hostesses parents. They said, "Good morning." I said, "..pain..."
My bowels were teeming with poisonous, bacterial magma.
I flew into the bathroom, locked the door, and sat where I would remain sitting for the next hour.
I sat and I cried.
I cried like a baby.
The pain.
