"Did you see that beer I chugged? I didn't throw up this time!" Said Craig "I paid the price though, I was passed out for hours!" Craig was known for being a two beer queer, so he was really proud of his accomplishments tonight.
"Guys, I can't believe those nachos we just ate at the party, they were so good; they reminded me of of Tijuana back when I was just a little niño. Ah, muy bueño.." spoke Ed, remeniscing fondly of his childhood back in Mexico. He started speaking of piñatas or something Mexican before being interupted by Patty, our order-placing technician here at IHOP.
"What'll it be tonight, boys?" she asked with a smile.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The seven of us huddled around our makeshift table, waiting for our food to arrive. I glanced around the table with my sharp, hawk-like eyes, spying a round dish with several small, almost cone shaped plastic packages residing inside: Coffee cream packets. I averted my eyes but it was too late, Anthony noticed the gleam shining in my eye.
"Heh, Hey Dan, " He started, with a slight smirk on his face "I bet I could chug more cream packets than you can. Ha ha!"
The noisy IHOP filled to capacity hushed instantly.
"EEEEWERPPPPPP" - the token record player suddenly screeched to a deafening halt, a classic environmental response signaling that someone had said something outlandish and insulting. The IHOP restaurant patrons all stared in complete silence.
"Er..heh...what?" I responded, as coy and humble as possible.
"Haha, you heard me man! I can drink more of those cream packets there than you can!", Said Anthony, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation.
I don't think he realized. I don't think he knew what he was getting himself into.
It has been such a long time since my days of creamin'. I hadn't been on a cream binge since, well, the Soviet Union collapsed. I retired after Igor "Cream of the Russian Crop" Svoransky went down in a sea of cream following my win at the World Wide Cream Off Invitational (WWCOI). My days in the sun were done, it was behind me now.
But after becoming the coffee creamer champ for my country, could I really accept this grudge match from a dear friend? I promised my parents no more cream offs - they were concerned for my approaching-deadly lactose levels. But there are more important things than life and death; There's a man's pride. My pride, to be specific.
I reached out and grabbed the cream, tore off the dainty, foil lid and sent the creamy white liquid to its final home: my stomach. "It's on, bitch."
The IHOP diners erupted with murmur and ecstatic shouting, breaking the awkward silence from before.
"CREAMMMMMM OFFFFFFF!" Word was getting out about what was to soon take place.
The adjacent tables around us cleared out within seconds. No one wanted to get cream all over them, that stuff just doesn't wash out unless you scrub really hard. We all had to make our sacrifices. A crowd formed around our table, encircling us with a myriad of onlookers, eager to see two men embbaras - er, compete for dignity by drinking packets of cream.
Wads of cash were being flung out of pockets, landing in sports bookies bet pools. I saw an asian man with an eyepatch smoking a cigarette lay odds on our match. I also saw the gun in his pocket. This was no time for jokes.
Word got out to the streets, people marching towards the IHOP trying to press their face to the glass just to catch a glimpse of what was to go down. The news later reported that two unfortunate children were trampled by the masses, a funeral service would be held the next day. TV helicopters buzzed in the air around us, documenting this historic Cream Off where I come out of retirement. Riot police were stationed around the crowd, beating back the frenzy. Did Anthony really know what he was getting into?
But that all didn't matter. If a man gets caught up in the hype and publicity associated with drinking coffee cream packets, then he's already lost. Creaming, as we say in the business, is a strict endurance battle of the mind. The stomach is only a biproduct of the will to win.
Anthony jumped in head first. Down the cream went, he had matched me. I took another and repeated the process. The battle was underway.
Cream packets were being handled like pez: A quick rip of the seal and down the hatchett. Anthony, still startled by the severity of the situation, did a good job of keeping pace. We went cream for cream, the fight raged. With each cream chugged, memories resurfaced of my heydays of creamin. They weren't memories I was proud of, but if you're good at something, you do it. They didn't call me "Ole Iron Stomach" for nothing.
How many cream packets were we at? Hard to say, the cream was starting to take its toll. "They're at 25 creams each!", I heard a spectator yell.
"Ha, that looks so stupid, let me beat them" said Craig, slapping a cocky grin on his face. He reached from the cream pile, opened one up, and let it pour down his throat. He looked smug.
"That wasn't bad at all..", he started. A thick stream of vomit then propelled from his mouth, infused with white. Yeah, some people just aren't cut ouf for this. The paramedics ambulanced him away, unsure of he'd make it alive to the hospital.
"30 creams now, wow, they're not stopping!"
I looked over at my competitor, Anthony. He looked back at me with intesity. It had been a while since I had seen such a fierce look on the kids innocent face. This challenge... it had changed him. I exposed one of my very friends to the world of creaming. My god, what have I done?
"Hey Anthony" I yelled over the spectators roar " How about we call it even after the next cream, eh pal?"
Anthony smiled, a silent rush of relief washed over his face.
"I'd like that very much", he said with a grin.
With that, we did cheers with our cream packet, and downed our final cream in unison. The battle was over, we had a tie at 31 creams each.
The crowd let out a less than enthusiastic moan, most likely because they had vast amounts of money riding on our match. Although they were dissapointed with the outcome, they managed to give the competitors a healthy round of applause at the valiant display of consumption they had just witnessed. Not everyone can humiliate and degrade themselves as they had just done.
A wizened old man approached me.
"My friend, "He said in a thick european accent " I have but only my two finest daughters to give to you out of respect. Please, show them a glimpse of heaven by sexing them up."
I smiled. " I will accept your offer, old man. It would be my honor."
With that, I walked out of the IHOP amidst the myriad of onlookers. Children holding up posters and cereal boxes with me on the cover, begging for me to sign them. I refused, "Is my check in the mail?" I ask rhetorically asked the kids. No, they're stupid children who can't appreciate a celebrities time.
I hopped into my brand new BMW with the beautiful ladies in tow. " Oh Danny, " they say with passionate looks in their eyes " won't you please satisfy us like no man has done before."
"Hold on ladies," I said in my manliest and, ironically enough, my normal voice " I have some unfinished business to take care of."
With that, I pulled out a cream packet from my pocket and peeled off the lid.
"Sorry Anthony, but I never lose. Here's to 32..."
The cream fell to the same fate as its brethren, down my throat and into the dark pit of my stomach, forever lost to the world in which it came cementing my victory. I drove off into the sunset with a smile, asphalt still smoking from the sick peel out I did leaving the parking lot.
Just another day in the life.
No comments:
Post a Comment