BS Friday

Welcome once again to BS Friday. The object is to write a story and see who can figure out if it is true or if it is false. My latest:


The recent story in the news about the student that was convicted of assault for puking on his teacher reminded me of the worst puking experience I can remember having. It was way back in the 80's when my roomate and I were known as the 'party boys'. Our apartment was filled every Friday and Saturday night with people partying who sometimes I didn't even know. It was quite the wild time.

One night I got my first taste of Sloe Gin. I was shocked when I tried it because it tasted so sweet and it could get me ripped. I didn't understand how something that tasted so good could be liquor. Needless to say, I overdid it a bit. I almost instantly started drinking it without even mixing it with anything. A recipe for disaster. We played drinking games like Mexican and Quarters and the whole time I used straight Sloe Gin. Dumb ass!

Not long into the evening, I was really feeling it. (This part had to be told to me. I don't remember it.) I was sitting on the couch when suddenly I decided I had to go somewhere. I don't know where. Now, my friends being good friends, decided that I shouldn't be going anywhere in my condition, but they also knew me well. I had a tendency to be combative and argumentative when I was way too far under the influence. So they allowed me to put my coat on like I was leaving and then delayed and coerced me into hanging around by feeding me more booze and constantly talking to me. Like I needed more gin! It worked. It did keep me there.

Soon I was slumped on the sofa, oblivious to the party. Luckily someone noticed that I started making noises like I was about to rowlf. It became apparent that I was going to hurl, but they couldn't get me moving toward a safe place so they did the next best thing, the put a barf bag on me. They used one of those plastic grocery bag, slid my arms through the straps so that it was up against my mouth and told me that if I had to puke, I was to remember to do it in the bag. I was a good little drunk and when I started puking, I actually used the bag. Many times. (I had to look like a horse with a feed bag strapped to its face.)

So there I was, slumped on my couch, a barf bag half filled strapped to my chest, my coat on me like I was travelling and totally oblivious to the party raging around me. Appaenntly I was quite the amusing attraction that night.

At some point after almost everybody had left, I awoke from the deep stupor and managed to realize what had happened. I got up, tied the bag straps together, walked outside and stuffed the puke bag into a skunk hole that the little stinkers had dug under the neighboring building. I did all that without spilling any puke or getting sprayed by a skunk. Then I went back in and slept for about 12 hours. The next day I was so sick that I couldn't even consider eating. I have never managed to even smell Sloe Gin without retching ever since.