Thursday, February 17, 2011


Reprinted by unpopular non-demand, this article appeared here at my blog in July of 2004:

Ages ago when I was in Middle School, our baseball team was playing a road doubleheader. We finished up around dinnertime, and got something to eat from a local greaseburger joint called "The Hand Out". The folks preparing the food were dripping with sweat. They wore soiled white undershirts which exposed armpits that exploded with hair. Hamburger buns were heated on a filthy-looking grill, then slathered with some oily liquid via basting brushes. This was not an appetizing scene, and many of us found ourselves disgusted as we watched. Our stomachs were full of afternoon junk food; red vines, candy bars and chocolates... but we ate our dinner anyway.

The trip home took us over a mountain pass. It was March, and there was still a fair amount of snow on the summit. Our ancient school bus had a problem with its heater, so the heat was the all-or-nothing. To keep ourselves from suffocating, the windows were all lowered six inches along the sides of the bus.

Being prone to motion sickness, I sat in one of the front seats near the window. My friend Bill was concerned about my pale, sweaty appearance.

"Snave, are you o.k.?" he asked.

Before I could answer, my head was out the window. The wind was icy through my hair, and as I puked my guts out the pain forced a tear or two. However, the misery quickly turned to laughter as I pulled my head back in and heard anguished cries from all those on my side of the bus!

"God!! Who Puked?!"

"Awww, man!!"

I turned to face my friend Dave, seated directly behind me. His wiry hair and his eyebrows were coated with a fine misting of light-colored, foul-smelling vomit. He shouted in disgust as he wiped the stuff from his face. Not only had I soiled Dave... I had soiled about 20 other people as well! Not a bad accomplishment, if I say so myself. (To Dave's credit, we are still friends!)

Several weeks later I went to my friend Marty's house after school, and the school bus we rode happened to be the Bus of Infamy. Believe it or not, the windows still had not been cleaned! For the benefit of all the other bus riders that day, I pointed out different food fragments that were still glued to the window... bits of hamburger, lettuce, licorice rope, you name it.

Afterward, for some time to come, I was appropriately known to many around the school as "Mr. Gross-Out".


A couple of months after the above atrocity appeared in what was known at the time as "Various Miseries", this was submitted disrespectfully by yours truly... as if the original post a couple months earlier was not enough:

a poem by Snave, arranged by Martin Klammer

Dripping with sweat
Their soiled white undershirts exposed armpits exploding with hair
Hamburger buns heated on a filthy grill
Slathered with oily liquid via basting brushes.

Our stomachs full of afternoon junk food--
red vines, candy bars and chocolates
We ate our dinner anyway.

My head was out the window
The wind icy through my hair
I puked my guts out
The pain forced a tear or two.
I heard anguished cries from those on my side of the bus.

Weeks later on the Bus of Infamy
Windows not cleaned
Food fragments glued to the window
Bits of hamburger, lettuce, licorice rope,
you name it.


Blogger J. Marquis said...

I can't match the gross-out quality of your story but one time I accidentally spit chewing tobacco juice all over my friend in the front seat of the car. I had assumed his window was open.

9:24 AM  
Blogger MRMacrum said...

Great tale. Always better to be the one puking than the one puked upon once it is all over.

Sympathy Retch Index - 8/10

7:27 AM  

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