A poo / puke story from Kurt

by kurt

2008-05-07 08:41:30 PDT

I have a story with one vicious similarity to your poop story, Riley. It was about a year ago on a cold January night and I was doing some drinking with Bill at my place. We were blasting through the rye when it was decided that we should drop in on a party downtown. The guy hosting the party was having his annual Beach Party, where he cranks the heat full blast, has heat lamps all over, people in bathing suits, and a bar set up with a friend acting as a bartender.

We arrived at his place at around 11:30pm, already annihilated. Upon entering the house, we were immediately blinded by light from heat lamps and nearly suffocated by a wall of overwhelming heat... which makes a fellow thirsty. I went up to the bar and asked the girl to mix me a rye and Coke. I took a sip, taking note that it was really strong. Very strong, actually.

After being inside for a while, I was beginning to feel really hot. And I was getting the familiar feeling of thickness in the back of my tongue. I thought it might be safer to go out for air in a dark, secluded spot. I recall going to the side of the house, which is an area sandwiched between the house and the fence. It all began in the usual way - bent over a little with a few coughs. Tongue getting thicker and starting to spit. I carried on with this for probably a few minutes until I decided, as per usual, to simply let out a bit of huck, just to ease the pressure a little. So I assumed the position, strategically parting my feet to avoid any splatter, and gently let out a small heave. This is when I lost all control. From this point on it was a battle of the mind over my body. That first small heave was similar to what you might expect when you shake a bottle of pop and open the lid a little too quickly. I started barking puke between the fence and the house. But unlike anything usual, I kept puking and puking. I was also overcome by sudden dizziness like nothing I had ever encountered before. Grabbing the fence for stability, I tried to walk away from the side of the house and make my way to the back lane where I could suffer undetected.

Then it happened.

No way. Not now. My laughing hyena-like vomit spree must have triggered something below because I had the sudden, nightmarish urge to shit. I was in such an impossible position; I couldn't walk. There's no way I could make it back to the house. And even if I could, it was full of people partying, not to mention bikini girls... I just couldn't stumble into the house like a half-tranquilized buffalo and barge straight into the can for a mega dump. But it was so fucking cold outside. I was shivering and wishing I could blink my eyes and be at home.

Without any alternative, I did what I had to do. I made my way to the back lane, ensuring nobody was out for a late night stroll, pulled down the pants, and leaned against the garage. After setting one free, I realized the next immediate problem was wiping. It was the end of January, so foliage wasn't available. I scraped the ground to try to grab for some snow, but because I was downtown at a lower elevation, I only managed to get a handful of icy grass (which would explain the grassy, assy mess in the shower the next day).

I eventually made it back into the house after having gone 'missing' for what was about an hour - I'm not sure. I ended up on a bed, dry heaving into a bag. I'm so awesome.

We later discovered that the strong drink was, in fact, about a 9 ounce rye and Coke.