Half of Half & Half in Half
by Sex Creepy
The challenge: One half gallon (U.S.) of Half & Half in a Half hour. No food. No vomiting up to an hour after start time.
The contender: You know him you love him, rev. jeremy scott 'sex creepy' dean.
The stakes: I win you buy me a six pack of barley wine/guiness other such quality beer. I lose I buy it for you.
The setting: Miss Amy's house in scenic downtown Oakland.
The time: 9:00 pm PST 29 March 1999 A.D.
Officiating: Archcardinal Kirk 'Couldn't-Drink-A-Gallon-Of-Milk-In-An-Hour' Newcross.
Are you for me or again' me?
I left work to pick up kirk, and the half & half, at Starbucks. We picked up some beer at Safeway and headed over to Miss Amy's house.
We were greeted at the door by our gracious host and the aroma of Baked Pomegranate Seed Chicken. After a wonderful dinner, beers, and a nat sherman on the roof, we headed back down to Amy's studio to wait on a call from Sandra K.
In the mean time, Amy's friend Ron came over, and they decided to rent evil dead i&ii. The phone rang. It was Sandy, just getting off from school. She apologized for her absence and explained that she wouldn't be able to make it as she was off to Sac.
Los Tres Bitches got back and it was showtime. Ron grabbed a glass, kirk one of the quarts, and me a seat. I decided to pace myself a spread the intake evenly over the allotted half hour. Finishing the first quart precisely 15 minutes through, I bid kirk to fetch the second quart at 21:35. Still going strong, I cracked number two and pouring the first glass, spilled a bit on the hardwood floor. Assuring kirk it was an accident, I told him we could make up the difference with the third quart he brought along in case I was up for a little of the old double-or-nothing.
Three minutes and one glass left, I started burping. Just a little harmless gas. Then it hit. My downfall. The dreaded VERP. I ran to the bathroom fearing a follow up by her big brother The Heave. Still clutching my glass of white death, Kirk informed me of my remaining two minutes. Proceeding to the kitchen, I tried to walk it off. To no avail. The realization that tasting one more drop of dreaded half and half would mean an instant trip to the Vomitorium, forced my hand. I threw in the towel.
I set the glass down in the sink and took a seat on the floor, hanging my head in defeat. It was over. I moved to the couch to so we could watch on of the movies.
We discussed his experience with the gallon of milk challenge. By then I was shivering horribly suffering from lactose overdose. Kirk confirmed that he too had convulsed afterwards. I asked him if I should make myself puke. Would it be better or worse. And just how long do the milk shakes last. Half an hour was his reply. Kirk said he was sure I was going to make it. I was too, until that verp. Verp. Verp.....
It smelled like the cheese section of any of the upscale groceries of the bay. It looked like crumbled frommage bleu. It came up smooth as silk. No heaving as such, just came out of it's own accord. And it was coming again. Where was Kirk and his Nikormat? On the phone with Keith, unable to resist informing that cruel sick master of the Vomitorium of another lost soul.
This time it was white with chunks of chicken and salad from dinner. It was over. A good quart or so came out the way it went in. I rinsed my mouth out with a glass of water Amy brought over, and headed back to the couch.
I tried to throw up one more time, but that other half wouldn't budge.
This morning I needed no cream with my coffee.
March 31, 1999