6 Times Food Made Me ACT A FOOL
What can I say? Food has accompanied me in a lot of strange situations and has been the catalyst in which I’ve made a fool of myself many times. I certainly have more than 6 stories, but I racked my brain for some of the more interesting ones and these are the ones my brain puked into my hands and translated into typed words on a screen. Enjoy.
The Slurpee Incident
My first story is a moment of unwanted, muscle reflex madness. The year was 2008-ish and I was working at a skateshop in Wylie, Texas. Before work, I would often visit the local 7-11 for a hearty breakfast filled with Redbull and whatever became the chip-bag-of-the-day. My health at that time was obviously phenomenal.
On this particular day, I decided to swap my usual energy drink with a giant Slurpee. All things were going according to plan. Bag of Hot Fries? CHECK. $7.87 in my checking account? CHECK. Slurpee freshly dispensed and in my supple, skate-punk hands? 100% CHECK. All systems were a GO. That is, until I got in line.
Now what happened next can only be described as a cosmic fluke. I stood behind an older lady with sunken eyes. I’ll never forget that face, as you’ll learn why in a moment. I took a prepaid sip of my suicide-flavored Slurpee. Cherry. Coke. The weird flavor that came out puke green. They were all in there. I extended my arm back to a resting cup-holding position when all of a sudden, it happened. My arm turned into Henry’s from the movie Rookie of the Year.
I slam dunked the Slurpee into the ground so fast you’d think I was on fire in the game NBA Jam. Slurpee shrapnel traveled in all directions, including the old lady’s leg. Her disgust slapped me in the face harder than the embarrassment that quickly ensued after the explosion. The 7-11 employee just threw his hands up. People in line were mega disappointed. I knew what everyone was asking without saying anything. WHY?
To this day, I can’t tell you why it happened. It was completely involuntary and I relive that blip in time every once in awhile; bewildered now as I was back then. If you’re reading this, lady who took a load of Slurp on her leg: I am so sorry.
Parking Lot Easter Basket
This story, and the next 2, involve my friend Neil. I’ve known this guy since our 2003 gym class at Sachse High School and he’s known me to do some REALLY dumb stuff when it comes to food. To be fair, he was directly involved in 2 out of the 3 stories I included in this article though, so…food makes him act a fool sometimes too.
One night, long ago, Neil and I were skating one of our regular skate spots out in Plano, Texas. Most of the area that’s skate-able is set behind a huge strip mall and most seshes happened after midnight. So, there we were, middle of the night cruisin’, when all of a sudden… an Easter basket appeared. Now, I don’t know if this was divine intervention from the Easter bunny or not, but before us sat a basket of all of our favorite candies. If this was a trap, it was working.
We approached the solo feast with caution. That caution quickly turned to gluttony as we raided the basket. Where did the candy come from? Was it poisoned? WHO CARES. IT WAS DELICIOUS. To this day, we still haven’t gotten sick, but I assume it will hit our bellies in a decade or so.
JANUARY 2022 UPDATE: Could this have been the cause of Covid!?
A Trucker and His Oranges
There’s video evidence of this story somewhere, but it won’t surface until we finally rip video off of our archived 8mm tapes. The story has been discussed over and over between Neil and me over the years, so parts have probably changed. I’ll try and summarize it as best I can. It all occurred during another skate sesh in the dead of night back in 2005 - 2006.
We were attempting to get footage on this stair-to-gap in Richardson, Texas, across the street from the once-famed, “Jack-in-the-Box gap”. At some point during the filming, Neil and I went exploring around the building which put us right behind a parked 18 wheeler. Nothing was there so we started to skate off. That is until a raspy voice yelled out, “You bOyZ RObbIN’ My DAnG TRUCk!?”
We quickly stopped and explained.
“We’re just skating.”
Somehow these three words were magic to this old truck driver’s ears because his anger turned to a huge smile instantaneously. He slapped his leg and blurted out, “oH, I’Ve HEarD oF That! YOU boyZ WAnt SOMe frESH ORangES!?”
Neil and I aren’t the types of midnight hooligans to turn down some free vitamin C balls from a stranger, so we graciously accepted. The guy told us to ‘hold on’ as he crawled into his truck. Neil and I just stared at each other in suspense. He came back out moments later with a full sack of oranges, as promised, and handed them to us.
“GO cRaZY oN THEM ORANGEs!” he said and without speaking another word, he re-entered his truck… never to be seen again.
Was he an orange angel? A serial killer? Who cares. We got us some free oranges. We proceeded to tear open the bag and peel them. So here’s where we kind of acted a fool. In this bag, there were about 15 oranges. We ate them all.
Not only did we consume them all, but we scattered the orange peels EVERYWHERE. By the end of our animalism, we had tossed around 100+ pieces of orange peel around the parking lot. To whoever had to clean that up the next morning, Neil and I are very sorry, (well, I am at least).
“Please, empty your pants, sir.”
Back in 2005-ish, my friend James Dyess and I would go to the movies together every Friday. Many people joined sporadically, but him and I were always present. We often visited the same theater, Cinemark at Legacy in Plano, Texas. (Once we stood in line for Star Wars III and I ran up the wall and did a back-flip over James for the crowd watching while pretending I was a Jedi, but that’s another story.) At some point in our adventures to this theater and others, we decided to start sneaking food in.
I know what you’re thinking, “everyone sneaks snacks in”. While that may be true, few did it as we did it. Over time, our goals of secret food-in-theater penetration became loftier and more extreme. We were addicted to the thrill.
It started simple enough. We first sneaked in maybe a drink and a candy bar. Then, we’d sneak in 2 drinks, 3 candy bars, and a roll of Ritz crackers. Then it got ridiculous. Once, at Stonebriar mall, I distracted a worker so that James could sneak in an entire Sbarro’s pizza. Things were getting out of hand, until one day we went bigger than ever… and got caught.
James and I both would wear baggy pants, as that was the style then. It also made it really easy to stuff cans of easy cheese and 2 liters drinks in there. One night, as I remember it, a small piece of candy fell out of James’s pants and someone who worked at the Cinemark movie theater saw it. We froze in terror. The man approached us and asked James if he had any other food in his clothes. What happened next was like a scene straight out of a movie.
James began pulling all sorts of things out of his pants. I’m talkin’ family-sized chip bags, boxes of crackers, a 2 liter of Dr. Thunder, various candies most stores didn’t even sell - it was madness. Like a car full of deranged clowns, the food exited James’s pants comically for everyone to see. Surprisingly, they still let us see the movie, but made us throw all the food away. We had accomplished something that day few ever had. I’m not sure what exactly it was, but we did and it feels special.
Sorry, I spit in your drink.
This is a short story, but I wanted to throw it in before I get to my final one. We return to Neil once more for this tale. It took place in his old room where if we weren’t out skating, we were playing video games there. It was a clubhouse sort of. Wait, that’s stupid. Pretend I didn’t write that because I’m too lazy to backspace.
Neil and I had just gotten our favorite meal from Jack in the Box: a Spicy Chicken sandwich, curly fries, and a giant Dr. Pepper. We sat cross-legged on the floor playing who knows what. Both of our drinks were next to each other and by accident, I picked up his and drank it.
“That’s my Dr. Pepper.” Neil said.
I realized this was true and did what any normal person would do after finding out they had taken a swig of their best friend’s beverage - I spit it back into his cup via the straw I had just sucked from. Neil shrieked.
“WHY?” Neil asked/exclaimed.
I still can’t answer that question. I would apologize, but this still seems like a normal reaction to me. The only way to get rid of BFF cooties is to send it back down the straw they came from.
Mystery Taco
This story took place like 7 years after the photo above was taken, but how could I pass up a chance to repost my big ass head from when I was 6 years old?
This story instantly made me the “weird white kid down the street” as I was once called by my friend’s brother. It all happened on a Sunday afternoon when I walked 8 houses down to my friend Derrick’s house. I was about 11 or 12 and every bone in my body was awkward and unaware.
I entered Derrick’s house and was greeted by his terrifyingly huge father and his mother who was the exact opposite. She was always really nice to me. As I entered the kitchen she said, “Oh, I wish I knew you were coming. We just got food, but I don’t think we have enough for you.”
I felt bad… and then suddenly better when I saw what they had bought. It was Taco Bell!
Without missing a beat I said, “Oh! No worries! I brought my own.”
Ignoring social norms, I proceeded to grab an unwrapped taco bell taco from my jean pocket. Lettuce fell onto the floor. I took a bite and noticed everyone was staring at me. His mom looked concerned.
“Do…you just keep tacos in your pocket, Eric?”
“Sometimes,” I answered, oblivious to how strange it was to carry around unprotected tacos around in one’s pockets. His brother burst out laughing and I was forever known as the “weird white kid down the street” to his brother, (and probably his entire family).
