The Loser Jeff Stories

Date Occured: Summer of 1996

Date Written: September 2010

This story is proof that I have an iron stomach capable of digesting anything that's food without getting sick, no matter how old or how raw it is.

When I was in middle school I met a guy named Bill, who was from up north and had just moved down south.  We instantly became good friends, always over at each others houses and what not.  After middle was over and we entered high school, we both started experimenting with pot.  One night I was over at Bill's hanging out with not shit to do but look at each other and that looses its fun after about 1.2 seconds.  So, we took a ride over to a guys place that he worked with to try and find some shit to get into...and we did!  Well, I did anyway.

We get to the guys place and there are more people there, we hang out for a awhile and then I decided that I either needed to pee or go somewhere and get something.  After I had returned I saw Bill's van in the driveway in the pitch black of night but found nobody at the house.  So I walked up to the side door, but before I could knock on it someone either shouted something at me or someone honked a horn to get my attention.  Either way I found everyone piled inside Bill's van.  I climb in and the place was smokey as hell and smelled like pure mary jane...looks like I got back at a good time.

I sit behind Bill who is in the drivers seat fried out of his mind laughing about something.  There are about 5 or 6 of us in the van, so the joint took a minute to circulate but finally comes around to me and I take a hit.  Now mind you that I had just started smoking pot and haven't really smoked that much, therefore I was a complete light weight.  2-3 hits later and I'm baked to a crisp.

Now everyone in the van is stoned out of their minds, except I'm not only stoned to hell and back but I am also hungry as a homeless person.  There is nothing to eat and I couldn't go inside and get something because the guys house we were at his parents were sleeping or fucking or something.  The munchies started getting worse and worse, so I start looking anywhere and everywhere for food.  I look down at my shoe and low and behold I see a McDonalds hamburger or chicken sandwich (I can't remember which) still in the wrapper.  I ask Bill if I can have it and if it's still good to eat.  He tells me yeah go ahead and eat it.  Now I didn't think about this at the time because I was super blazed and hungry, but why was there McDonald's food just laying on the floor of his van?

I open it and take a bit, tasted okay, so I took another bite.  While I'm doing this Bill and I think one or 2 others were watching me, then as I swallowed the first 2 bites utter laughter busts out.  I start asking what the fuck is so funny?  People kept laughing, so I asked a second time.  Again, more laughter graced my ear drums.  I decide to ignore them as we are all high as airplanes and take another bite.  I get half way through chewing it when Bill says "Dude, that has been sitting there for a week or 2 AND YOU ATE IT HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

At first I thought he was joking, but he wasn't, I had been suckered into eating a really old sandwich.  I really didn't care though, it tasted okay and I was hungry as hungry from the fucking pot that gave me the munchies so I ate it anyway, everyone was disgusted...except for me.  I was happy and full even if I was going to die the next day from some kind of funky food death virus.

However, the next day I felt fine.  I didn't puke, get sick, feel like ass, get a fever, nothing.  I was able to eat the week old sandwich and not get one repercussion from it.