Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
stg-roadrunner-gfx
Thursday, July 28, 2005

Amyl Nitrate Science

When your name is plucked from the hopper, you must answer the call. You must stand and be true. Such was the scenario yesterday afternoon at my place of employment. The company president summoned me to his office, his tone grave.

"Steve, the time has come to burden you with a critical mission. Our professional reputation is at stake, and the exacting Japanese have requested we represent ourselves in the form of physical presence. In this case, yours. Go forth to Round Lake Beach, IL. There you will tin many wire tips with sotter, disassemble drive-thru posts, mount headset transmitter modules, and most of all, submit yourself to their queries, lectures, insults, and imperial commands. Be brave. Wear your proud face, but speak with humility. The continued patronage of this vendor is essential to our survival in the harsh world of the restaraunt register business.

Take my tools. If you lose any, I'll dock your pay. Good luck."

Equipped with a stunning array of grimy hand tools, I fired up my vehicle and shot north along the highway. I zig-zagged past many an automotive, slunk by many a squad car, raced a Metra train or two, and finally arrived on location at six in the evening.

It was a piece of cake. I aced the fucker. Everybody went home happy. Except me. What I mean is, I was happy, but I didn't go home. No sirree.

My former roomie was grandma-sitting. His task was too look after an elderly woman suffering from moist pnuemonia. Feed her dogs, cook her dinner, administer suppositories, vaccuum her floor. Stuff like that. It was happenstance that he was sequestered away in the same region I was due to visit. Far from the city in the northern boonies. Nearly Wisconsin.

Naturally, we decided to drink some beer. We called Megan, a friend from years past who we hadn't seen recently. Three years ago she left us to hide deep in the woods with an obsessive mechanic.

Upon completing my work, I bought a twelver of Beck's Dark and wandered my way under the starlit night, arriving at the mechanic's woodland home at ten at night. We stood on the upstairs porch, where we engaged in convivial revelry.

Things got weird. A jolly fellow named Justin was aggressivly inhaling smelling salts. He was not unconscious, nor was another person waving it under his nose. He was administering himself. I inquired.

"Splain it, share it. Ammonium Nitrate? You afraid of passing out, Justin?"

"No no no. These are poppers."

"I see no cheese, crunchy breading, or jalapenos."

"Amyl Nitrate, dude. Poppers. They get you high. They're like nitrus for beginners."

"Yeah?"

"Sure. Want one?"

"I most certainly do. You raid Hunter Thompson's briefcase or what?"

"Okay, here you go. I'll warn you, these things will make you need to shit. Bad. But they feel great. You get light-headed, kind of fuzzy wuzzy, and relaxed. Real nice."

I took one. So did a few others. We stood, a circle of four, and we tapped our white ampules together as a toast. "To idiocy!" Following Justin's lead, we jabbed our fingers into the red dots at the center of each popper, and from each a quiet pop and hiss escaped. Making loose fists, we snorted the inhalants with nose chuffing abandon. Our snouts wriggled. Soon we were all wobbly and chattery.

"Whoa. That's..This is... Neat."
"I feel like Weird Al." (group giggles)
"This stuff thins your blood. Isn't it great?"
"I gotta poo." (guffaws and giggles)
"Squeeze your sphincter shut until you're done with that. Don't waste it."
"My brain is expanding. It's trying to make my eyesocket give birth." (hysterical giggling, stomach clutching)
"Shit on a stick, Wilbur."
"Where's a stick?" (contagious chuckling)

Soon we were all laughing uncontrollably. We pooled all the ampules together and passed them around, taking turns breathing in four and five at a time. We were out of control. Soon we'd cracked fourteen of them. We drank a bunch of beer and inhaled a ton of amyl nitrate. We had very thin blood, severe susceptibility to laughing fits, and no logical thought whatsoever. We were speaking nonsense phrases and loving every second of it.

Alas, all good things must end. We left Megan to giggle herself to sleep and Justin to finish the beer and bratwurst. We parted ways. I got lost on the dark streets of Fox Lake. Eventually, I found home. I feel normal today. I think.

3:40 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm

9 Comments:

July 28, 2005 4:11 PM, Blogger P/O said...

clearly you've never been part of an nyc orgy. :)

 
July 28, 2005 11:39 PM, Blogger Lostinspace said...

I need some amyl nitrate and a laughing fit would do me some good.

 
July 29, 2005 2:33 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

I had to look up "convivial". Turns out it's probably the greatest word ever. I deeply regret every year spent unaware of its existence.

 
July 29, 2005 7:57 AM, Blogger The Everglades said...

So was the grandma huffing as well, or was someone tending to her rectal needs?

Blake

 
July 29, 2005 10:41 AM, Blogger Dave Morris said...

Poppers 'n beer. You've given me inspiration for planning my weekend. Thank you my friend!

 
July 30, 2005 9:18 AM, Blogger ty bluesmith said...

hahahaohshit

 
July 31, 2005 10:50 PM, Blogger Ectoplasm said...

Just say no kid.

 
August 04, 2005 12:20 AM, Anonymous p-doodle said...

that was fun as hell
we need some more
to the retarded land we go.....wawawawawawa

 
August 04, 2005 12:24 AM, Anonymous Megs said...

Hey Stevo -

What's up? Your story was pretty cool. I don't know if I liked the usage of my name but I guess I like the fame. Love You!

Meg

 

Post a Comment

left-arrow Home

stg-shark
The Secret Diablo River
Center In Grey
Girth Birth
Alcoholic Review
Ultraviolet Incubator Part Three
Dead Letter Shrapnel - Karol
Ultraviolet Incubator Part Two
Ultraviolet Incubator Part One
Fish Hook Sword
Suicide For Beginners
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
August 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
February 2008
May 2008
August 2008
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
December 2009
February 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
August 2010
August 2011
September 2011
February 2012
June 2012
July 2012
August 2012
October 2012
November 2012
May 2013
August 2013
September 2013
December 2013
May 2014
October 2014
November 2014
December 2016