Disclaimer: All these stories are real. It is unfortunate that I am unable to consult with any of the individuals in them to confirm certain details of my memories of these events. I have refrained from writing the full names of those involved, but those who know me personally know who I'm talking about. None of the first names were changed. No one involved was innocent.
Part 2: Puking Little Shits
One time, Ed stayed over at my house. Only one time. Again, we did not sleep. But this time it was not because we were playing video games. This time, we were going to sneak out and wreak havoc on my neighborhood. If this weren't devious enough, we were also planning to meet up with two other kids who were staying close by. My good, long-time buddies, Blake and Ambo. Both Ambo's and my house were equidistant from the hospital, and Ed and I were holding a stash of 4 dozen eggs. A full dozen each.
A fleet of cars in a Doctor's Office Park was to be our target. Ed and I just didn't feel like waiting until our 3AM rendezvous with them to start raising hell. Plus, my parents were out for the night and we had the place to ourselves. At the end of my street, was another doctor's office. It had a working elevator which was never locked for some reason. Ed and I loaded ourselves up on junk food and went down there. We didn't want to waste the eggs just yet, so we went there with some nasty, leftover, store-brand macaroni salad and slammed the whole tub inside the elevator. Then we sat there cracking each other up by opening the door and saying in a very hoity-toity, british-butler voice "Going up, sir?" I'm not sure if it was the pounds of Milky Ways, Doritos and cheeseburgers in our stomachs, all that running around, all that laughing, or who went first, but one of us puked.
After my 2nd hurl, I felt another on the way. I thought it would be funny to puke in the elevator. I did, and it was. It was so weird. We were both laughing hysterically, puking intermittently, and now we were doing so with purpose. We tried to blast barf on every square inch of that office building. We were like some sort of retarded organic graffiti raiders. So awful. Shooting our bile and snack splatter all over the place. Just as it seemed not another drop of puke could be conjured, one of us would do the old "Going up, sir?" gag and it would all start again. Buckets of it. I don't even know how we had the strength, after all that barfing, but we also destroyed several wooden benches and heaved the heavy, sand and butt-filled ash trays into the parking lot from the second floor.
When we finally met up with Ambo and Blake, egging shit seemed so lame. It was like we had come into a dead bar after a night at the strip club. Even pissing on cars wasn't that funny. The funniest thing was Ambo, the biggest of the 4 of us, purposely, dramatically, jumping in some bushes that would obviously not cover him at all, right as the hospital security rolled up on us. Since the damage we'd done was out of his sight, he foolishly (or wisely) sent us on our separate ways.
 |
| A wild ass. |
The next morning, I heard my Dad getting in from his bike ride. "Man, I don't know what happened down there at (the Dr's office Ed and I puked on) last night but it smells terrible." he said to my Mom. I just laughed my ass off into a pillow. When Ed and I went to check it out, it looked like someone had shot a shit cannon all over the place. We rode by fast, but there had to have been like 50 or 60 splats. I still can't believe how much it was, nor a time when I had so much fun vomiting. The psychology behind it is staggering. True subhuman mania.
Weirdest thing...they still never locked that elevator. Years later, it was renamed: "The Hotbox."
-2013 Wielgorecki
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