Dinner At Shitfoot’s

Autumn and I arrived at Shitfoot’s place early in the evening armed with good microbrewed beers to share. Mrs. Shitfoot doesn’t drink alcohol, but her husband sure as hell does. Me too. I needed a few drinks in me sooner rather than later so Shitfoot began rigging me up with some of his whiskey sours. Not even realizing what I was doing until it was too late, I had a whiskey sour in one hand and a beer in the other all night long. I subconsciously tried to drown my stress and depression with booze. Maybe I could forget for a couple of hours that my Mother was dying. At least being social might be halfway manageable that way.

Shitfoot is one hell of a barbecue master. We were going to have marinated steaks with his wife’s Malay dishes. One of my favorites she makes is called Curry Puffs. They are deep fried in ghee which is a heavy butter and loaded with bits of potato and shrimp. Whenever she makes a big batch of those things I can’t stop eating them. I am somewhat of a curry freak. Malaysian curry is different from Indian or Thai curry dishes, but I like it just as much as the others I’ve tried.

As dinner was served and everyone was making idle conversation I kept pounding whiskey sours along with bottles of beer. It didn’t help me keep my thoughts off of my family problems. Next thing I knew it was time to go home and I was entirely hammered. Autumn had to drive us back to my house.

Staggering inside I made it to my upstairs bathroom alone while Autumn puttered around in the kitchen. Standing in front of my bathroom mirror was a challenge. The walls were slowly spinning around me. Without warning I felt the uncontrollable urge to puke. In less than a few seconds I arched over my bathroom sink and emptied my stomach. There wasn’t enough time to react or think about getting to the toilet which was only a footstep away. Everything came up, small chewed up bits of steak, curried peas and potatoes, beer bile. The sink was rapidly filling with solids. Then the drain completely blocked.

I didn’t want Autumn to see me like that. Panic gripped me and I turned the sink faucet on full blast hoping to wash out or force all that crud down the drain. Instead, the sink just filled up with murky burgundy meat colored water and then washed into the overflow drain. It also quickly became clogged with undigested meat bits. Staring at that mangy soup of puke triggered a couple more bursts of retching. I started scooping handfuls of junk out of the sink carefully dumping them into the toilet. When I had removed about half of the sink’s foul contents I happened to look over my left shoulder to find Autumn standing just outside in the hallway watching me. Rather ashamed of myself, I apologized to her. I was caught in an act of drunken stupidity.

Feeling entirely strung out and depressed Autumn and I went to bed. In a few hours I would have to make a long drive to Idaho. Mom might be dead by the time I arrived in town. Tomorrow would already be a very difficult day, without having a hectic hangover on top of everything else.

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~ by factorypeasant on December 13, 2006.

4 Responses to “Dinner At Shitfoot’s”

  1. We’ve all done our share of Puke Scoopin’ I’m sure.

  2. that’s a big 10-4 there g00d buddie.

  3. Addendum to previous comment:
    Previous comment refreshed my memory and I share the following to assist you and your readers to comiserate and identify;

    I once practiced Puke Scoopin’ in response to my girlfriends action – She loaded up the tub with a quantity of pork tripe – the pieces of which were the size and diameter of my little finger – it was not goin down the drain and I needed a shower, so – 2 Handed Scoopin it was!!!!! YEAH!!!!!!!!!

  4. tub full of hot puke huh? nice.

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