chundering
When I was 17 I moved out of home and ended up living in a caravan in the middle of an an apricot orchard with 3 heroin addicts. Due to lack of money and inclination, our main source of food was a 10 litre pot of something that we called "The Stew". "The Stew" started out as just that, a dish combining meat and vegetables in a thick gravy but when it reached a level of about 2 litres, it was just topped up with water and other stuff. The stuff consisted of:
extremely cheap canned stuff
vegetables borrowed from the neighbouring farms
meat sourced from various sources, including lambs that died during cold nights and fresh roadkill (rabbits, kangaroos, birds and possums.
So the original stew might. at times be, 3 or 4 weeks old and just left on top of the stove even during the summer (non airconditioned aluminium caravan in a paddock in northern South Australia where day time temperatures can reach 45 degrees C).
As the human body is quite a resiliant organism, it is able to become accustommed to this diet with very few side effects other than continual liquid bowels. One night I had been out with my mates for a night of pissing on and smoking the herb. Due to financial constraints our drink of choice was a cheeky little number from our local winery, a very young vintage coffee marsala. Also, due to becoming very hungry due to our chemical intake we thought ourselves extremely fortunate to find the local roadhouse was selling family size Sarah Lee apricot cheesecakes for only $1.25 (only 3 months past the use by date).
After consuming 2 each plus a dubious hot dog it was time to retire. We were very quiet when entering the caravan so as not to wake the sleeping junkies out of respect of the fact that all 3 of them were armed with variuos firearms. Having been asleep for about 3 hours, I woke with the feeling that perhaps I may have eaten something that did not agree with me. I ran to the toilet but unfortunately one of my mates was sitting there with extremely loose bowels so I headed for the sink and let loose a vast amount of vomit. As if time slowed down, I remembered a very pissed off junkie the previous week waving a .22 calibre rifle around because someone had left hair in the sink plughole. Acting on instinct, I placed my hands in the stream of vomit between the plughole and my mouth to the catch the larger bits that may block the drain. Just as I was finishing, my other mate ran in to spew but as both recptacles were taken, he turned around, threw open the front door and did a projectile vomit that Ragan would have been proud of.
It was not until the following afternoon, when we woke up that we realised while vomiting out of the front door, my mate had not opened the flyscreen door as well as the front door. So as well as a normal front door, there was another door constucted of a thick layer of dried vomit.
(peewee13, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 10:37, Reply)