Refilling the Pitcher

Refilling the Pitcher

                Celebrating a birthday of my friend Harry back in college, we gathered a small group together and went to a local bar. Nothing out of the usual for a birthday within our group, we quickly loaded up on cheap shots and then began to relax on beer. Once a couple of pitchers had been devoured I look across the booth at my other friend Dusty. He was making a particularly odd face, and when he made eye contact with me he gave me a creepy look which enhanced his already disturbing appearance. Calmly, Dusty reached to his left and grabbed a pitcher which still retained about a quarter of the beer it began with. He brought the beer to his face and after a wink he filled the pitcher with a fast but steady stream of vomit. No loud noises were created and no one besides myself and Dusty knew what had just transpired.

                I asked “You alright?” and he simply nodded calmly placing the pitcher down in its original spot. The vomit filled pitcher remained there for a few minutes without anyone noticing and with myself still in shock before Dusty again reached for the pitcher as if he were about to pour himself a drink, brought it to his face and in a similar manner to turning on a faucet refilled the pitcher to about the three quarters mark. Again no noise but this time Harry noticed and looked just as shocked as me. Dusty placed the pitcher back on the table without even making a face at what he had just done. Harry insisted he go to the bathroom to collect himself and Dusty returned a short time later, still calm as if nothing had happened. Of course when the manager came to the table, it appeared something had happened when Dusty went to the bathroom. The calm and steady faucet of puke had lost his composure and accuracy in the restroom resulting in what the manager referred to as a “the worst fucking mess since the exorcist”

                The manager then politely suggested that Dusty needed “get the fuck out of here”. Dusty maintained his calm demeanor stood up, fixed his appearance and with the manager glaring, attempted to chug his beer. The manager said “No, No, No” and Dusty with the only emotion I had seen since he started puking, showed slight annoyance at leaving the drink and calmly began to leave.

                Like any good friend would do, we watched him leave, drank his beer, hid his vomit filled pitcher under the table and had a pretty good night.