Torture last night Have you ever gone hungry?: Torture last night

By Spider on Tuesday, July 6, 2004 - 11:11 am:

    Let me tell you about my night last night. Buckle up, I'm feeling long-winded.

    My father was invited to a party at his colleague's house last night, so my brother and I were left alone for dinner. We decided to barbecue.

    At 5:00 we started heating the coals. My dad left for his party around 5:30, and shortly thereafter we began to grill. We grilled:

    * 3 peppers (1 yellow, 1 orange, 1 red)
    * 2 yellow squashes
    * 1 butternut squash
    * 1/2 sweet onion
    * 2 steaks
    * 1 lb. chicken breast strips
    * 8 sweet Italian sausage links
    * 12 hamburgers
    * 8 veggie hotdogs

    While we grilled, we listened to:

    * Bizet's "Carmen"
    * The Stooges' "Funhouse"
    * G. Love & Special Sauce's "G. Love & Special Sauce"
    * The Beastie Boys' "Check Your Head"

    While we grilled, we played:

    * 6 rounds of Boggle

    While we grilled, we drank:

    * Spider -- 3 glasses of iced tea
    * Spider's brother (hereafter referred to as A.) -- 4 1/2 beers

    Throughout the grilling process, we frequently remarked on the skill and perfection with which our meats were cooked. Nothing was overcooked; nothing was undercooked. Everything was juicy. As we plucked our last strips of pepper off the grill, low rumblings of thunder sounded in the distance, and we praised our luck in timing our barbecue to beat the rain.

    We brought all the food and equipment inside, laid the plates of meat and vegetables out appetizingly on the kitchen peninsula, moved the barbecue grill to the garage to cool off out of the rain, agreed to watch episode 3 of "Band of Brothers" while we ate, and suddenly began to worry about leaving the grill inside the garage. (The carbon dioxide emissions, you know.)

    I locked the door to the deck from the inside, and then we proceeded to the garage via the laundryroom door. Dun dun DUUUUN.

    Once in the garage, we argued about the benefits and consequences of leaving the grill inside or on the driveway, and with the cover on or off. We decided to leave it outside, cover on. And then A. moved to go back inside the house, but the laundryroom door was locked.

    Let me say that again: We had locked ourselves out of the house. I think I must have inadvertantly twisted the lock on the doorknob to locked position when I pulled the door shut behind me.

    So. Now it is around 8:00, we are starving, our delicious food is waiting for us in the kitchen, we have both drunk enough liquid to distress our bladders, and we have no way of getting into the house. Or do we?

    Thank God my brother was half-drunk. We run all around the house and check all the first floor windows -- all locked. A., in his lubricated state, decides to pull the ladder out and check all the second floor windows -- all locked. We debate the benefits and consquences of breaking one of the first floor windows or breaking down the laundryroom door, and decide that would be dumb.

    Are there any spare keys in our cars? No.
    Are there any keys hidden under rocks or mats around the house? No.
    Do we know anyone with a spare key? No.

    Should we go next door and ask permission to call our dad at the party? No. We aren't friendly with our neighbors (dammit, we should have been nicer over the last 14 years!), we are either drunk and shirtless or filthy and shoeless, and we can't remember the name of our dad's colleague or the address of her house.

    Arguments ensue. "What about - ?" "NO!" "What if we - ?" "NO!" "We could always - " "NO!"

    We decide we can only wait for our father to return. We then argue over whether or not he carries a house key with him. (It should be stated that we usually do not lock this laundryroom door.)

    It rains briefly, and then we take up our resting positions. A. lies on his back on the garage floor, and I sit on the driveway and catch at nearby fireflies. We rest silently for maybe 1/2 hour. I will say, the fireflies were out in force last night, and were mesmerising.

    I begin to pray that the Lord will inspire my father to come home from the party now. I pray continuously throughout the night.

    So then we start to talk. We talk about:

    * what jobs we would have if we had to fight in a war (A. and Spider = medics; but if we had to fight: A. = reconnaissance/intelligence; Spider = artillery)
    * the Vietnam war
    * "Band of Brothers" and the various actors therein
    * our various family members
    * marriage
    * does God punish you on earth? How about test you? Is this a test?
    * is there an afterlife?
    * what time is it?
    * what will Spider do if she can't hold her bladder?
    * what is the point of life?
    * are those fireworks over there? What city lies in that direction?
    * what mystical experiences have we had?
    * why is our father not home yet?
    * what time is it?
    * what is the saddest movie we have ever seen?
    * which actors/actresses do we find attractive?
    * who are our favorite TV characters?
    * why is our father not home yet?
    * what stars are those?
    * what books have changed our lives?
    * why is our father not home yet?

    Our dad is not sociable. Oh, sure, he gets along with his colleagues, and we're sure he was having a good time at the party, but it's not like him to stay late. When twilight set in around 9:00, I was sure he would arrive home at any moment. But tonight, of all nights, with us starving and desperate to use the bathroom (it should be said that A. availed himself of the rosebushes 3 times), he doesn't come home until 11:30.


    And praise be to Jesus, he had a house key.

    So we peed, ate (the sausage links were FABULOUS), watched "Band of Brothers," and made plans to leave spare keys all around the house.

    And my dad said he never once felt inspired to leave the party earlier than he did. So much for my prayers.

    THE END.

By wisper on Tuesday, July 6, 2004 - 05:16 pm:

    Quite the adventure!


    1) why didn't you pee in the bushes? (i ask because holding it for so long is how i got a wicked bladder infection once, and now I'm all about urinating at the first sign of need, regardless of where i am. Truly, I'm obsessive about it. Tee hee.)

    2) why not break a window?

    3) 12 hamburgers?

By Spider on Tuesday, July 6, 2004 - 05:28 pm:

    1) Because that's gross! I thought about peeing in the sink in the garage, though, which might be equally gross to some people. But at least it would be indoors and slightly more civilized.

    2) Because then what's to keep random passersby from coming into our house via the same broken window? We discussed breaking an upstairs window, that way a potential intruder would need to be carrying a ladder to get in, but in the end, we decided to wait to see if our dad had a key. Because if he had a key and we had broken the window, we would feel very stupid. And if he didn't have a key, he would either sanction the breakage or drive us to a hotel for the night and call a locksmith in the morning.

    3) 12 or so. Maybe 10. They were little. You take your ground beef or turkey or whatever, and put it in a bowl. Mix an egg in. Mix maybe 1/3 cup of tomato sauce. Shake in some sea salt, pepper, garlic (or garlic salt), 1/2 onion (or onion flakes), parsley, oregano, and shredded mozzarella cheese. Now pat into little patties. You're good to go.

By Spider on Tuesday, July 6, 2004 - 05:28 pm:

    PS. My brother and I also talked about death metal.

By patrick on Tuesday, July 6, 2004 - 07:44 pm:

    youre fucking strange spider.

    the chances of someone A)spying the broken window (choose one in the back or perhaps concealed by a bush) B)who happens to be a robber in between last night and today when your bother goes to home depot and buys a windown pane for nothing, and fixes it, seems...well, strange.

    also, peeing in the bushes or where ever....its actually perfectly natural and acceptable in this situation.

    Something tells me that perhaps you didnt really *want* to get in but then again I just saw my therapist so im looking at everything in such a manner.

By Gee on Wednesday, July 7, 2004 - 10:29 am:

    she probably just didn't *want* to pee in the bushes. I wouldn't have either. and that is exactly why you'll never see me on "Survivor".

    I thought you where against therapists. ?

By patrick on Wednesday, July 7, 2004 - 12:32 pm:

    when did i ever say that?

    and if i did. well.
    whatever. i reserve the right to change my mind as im involved in extraordinary circumstances right now.

By agatha on Wednesday, July 7, 2004 - 12:46 pm:

    Is it helping?

    Spider, you are adorable.

By patrick on Wednesday, July 7, 2004 - 01:28 pm:

    i think

    its not making my situation any easier though, but im not sure anyone could.

    i only went back yesterday after laying a month or so off.

    its really too early to tell.

By Antigone on Wednesday, July 7, 2004 - 02:01 pm:

    Voiding yourself in nature can be quite enjoyable, like when I took a shit on a hilltop in Ireland. Beautiful view.

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