R.I.P My buddy Sean and I were just hanging around town looking for something to do. Well Sean was looking for something to do, I was looking for stuff to break or set on fire like usual, but we all have our hobbies. After my third felonious suggestion regarding ways to entertain ourselves, Sean, knowing about my hypoglycemically-induced insanity, asked if I had eaten lately. Of course the answer was no, so we darted into some little stopandrob on the corner, where I grabbed a bag of doughnuts. I wolfed a couple down as we headed out the door, mellowing my blood sugar levels a little. Sean was pretty hungry, too, and decided that real food was in order, so we headed for a Cajun place he had heard about on Broadway. We parked the car what seemed like a mile away from where we were going and began to walk toward our muchneeded meal. Sean and I are both pretty well known, so walking anywhere takes quite a while, because twothirds of the people we pass stop to talk a bit and most of the shops are owned by someone we know. So needless to say, by the time we had made it to our destination we were more than ready to eat. Then, it started. The place didn't open until 5 p. m. We walked up the other side of the street to an East Indian place-- same story. We tried another place a few doors down, same thing! Now it was getting creepy-- there was a twilight zone vibe starting to develop and the hunger was wearing on. We saw someone come out of a place across the street, so we darted through traffic, but on the way in I saw a sign that said no credit cards ... neither one of us had any cash. That was it: we headed for the car, meeting, greeting walking and talking in our usual slowpaced way. Although we appeared to have all the time in the world, we were getting closer to starvation with every "Hi, how ya doing" and handshake. Finally, back in the car I stuffed a couple more of the lard biscuits in my face as we sped frantically away from the curb. Searching for sustenance became increasingly difficult as we were forced to field a sudden barrage of cell phone calls. Sean was just answering his phone again and I was hanging mine up when I saw a restaurant with an open door. I pointed, Sean nodded, and we were in the parking lot in a flash. This was kind of an upper crust joint, so since Sean was wearing his yuppie costume he decided to go in first and secure us a table before they saw me. I waited around the corner and in a minute he came back fuming. "GRRRR NOT OPEN 'TIL 5!" he growled through clenched teeth, as we headed back toward the car. The temporary relief offered by the sugarinducedlardbiscuit high was wearing off and a hypoglycemic haze was starting to take over again, making everything take on film noir kind of creepiness. We started up Colfax and stopped in at the first place we saw. I ordered a po boy chicken fried steak sandwich and Sean had the same. Acouple guys came in after us, sat at the booth next to ours and ordered. Their food came before ours and they had ordered the same thing. Sean asked the waiter about our order as I chewed on the edge of the table; he assured us it was on the way. Then he came back saying the other guys got our order, but he had their burgers up and if we wanted them they were on the house. We were starved so we took them. Mine was gone before Sean had spread ketchup on his. Sean suggested that I order another po boy to fill the remaining void and to keep me from eating the rest of the fries off his plate (that I was helping myself to). I managed to tear through the second grease bomb before Sean had finished his burger and I was truly stuffed! I mean unbuckle the pants and scratch yourself, stuffed! "All in all, a pretty good story," I thought to myself as I sat back to take a few notes. Sean was answering his phone again when I decided to call my editor and give him the news that I finally would have a story in on time because this one had written itself! I ran him down on the day's misadventures and gave him the angle of the story. All was well until I told him where we had finally eaten. "We already did a story on that place," he said with this kind of evil little giggle that he gets when he makes my life difficult. I hung up the phone and laid my head on the table. My stomach was so full I couldn't possibly eat again. "Just when I think I'm out, they pull me back in." I sobbed into my hands. Then it hit me. I had to go and train at the wrestling school in an hour. Bumping around in a wrestling ring for three hours with a bunch of guys a decade younger than you is hard enough on a good night, but with a belly full of meat, grease and sugar? I knew this wasn't going to end well, but I dreadfully headed for the school anyway. The first few falls weren't too bad-- a clothesline or two and a couple of back drops. Then the hip tosses started ... up and over ... up and over ... getting a little dizzy ... up and over ... up and over ... gut bomb starting to boil ... up and over ... I can feel the temperature rising. Then, as if in slow motion-- uuuuup aannd ooooovvvver-- kathud to the mat and all the sugar, grease and meat congealed into a mass of boiling lava looking for a way to the surface. As I lay there staring at the spinning ceiling all I heard was a tiny voice in my head saying, "stay away from the light Carrie Ann." The internal pressure was building, my dementia was increasing, gluttonous pictures floated past my consciousness. There was one of me stuffing a whole bag of lard biscuits into my face! Oh look, there's me with a big greasy burger in each hand! There's me again with a mouth full of fries and ketchup on my face! As the darkness surrounded me I saw a tecnicolor caricature of my editor grinning at me as he morphed into some sort of demonic weasel creature and cackled wildly. Somewhere in the background a midget dressed like a hamburger was spraying Cheese Whiz on an obese naked woman. Everything was taking on a White Zombie music video vibe. I spun around to see the demonic weasel thing dancing around and chanting something almost audible. As I listened I started making out its words ...it was saying ...OH MY GOD! NOOOOOOOO! It was saying, over and over, "We already did a story on that one, tee hee hee, we already did a story on that one, tee hee hee!" Then I began to fall spinning into a deep cavern made of food, falling faster and faster, deeper and deeper, screaming "I CAN'T EAT ANY MORE" at the top of my lungs. The laughing got louder and louder, the cavern got deeper and deeper, the falling got faster and faster, and then ...and then ... and then I died. All Rights Reserved © 2001 Go-Go Media, LLC