Mouse Pizza

When Katie started to dust her computer desk because Wilking was coming I literally laughed out loud. I told her, in plain non-hyperbolic or analogic language, that Wilking didn't give a fuck. I understand not wanting the house to be filthy, but it wasn't, and he wouldn't care at all. Somewhere to sit that is not coated in Pepto Bismol, or maybe even one that is, is pretty much all he requires. Besides the fact that I decided the phrase "Dusting for Wilking" should definatively be the sequel to "Bowling for Columbine" I realized that to accurately get my point accross I would need to resort to the art of storytelling passed on to me by Tristan Taromino.

A long, long, time ago. I can still remember how, living at the house used to make me cry. And I knew if I had my chance, I would make the Domino's pizza dance, and maybe all of the stoners at the house would be happy, for a while. But payning for pizza made us shiver, with every pizza they'd deliver. I can't handle that shit anymore. So one day the pizza dude arrives during the middle of a large and particularly thorough smoking session. I think there were like 10 of us all taking many large bong rips, and when the door was opened to receive the cinna-stix, a cloud exited the place quite forcefully. I don't remember if we invited him in or if he asked, but this dude named Eric sat down and had a couple hits while we enjoyed the 'za. He told us to ask for him next time we called, and we would work something out. Our relationship with Eric remained quite strong for quite a while. We would call the dude and order like a small cheese pizza and he would bring boxes and boxes of pizzas, full pizza style cinnastix, buffalo wings 2 liters, etc. Then he would sit down, we would all smoke hard, and eat hard, we would give him a nominal amount of cash in comparison to the ginormous amount of pizza and that was it. It was a stoner's dream relationship.

As a result of this combined with the general lack of cleanliness esoupsed by a majority of house occupents, especially intoxicated unemployed house occupents, there was pizza lying everywhere. Pretty much every point on the floor was occupied by pizza boxes. some of which had a couple pieces remaining. So one night when we were sitting around, doing what we usually do, Wilking got really hungry. Eric was off that night, so we would have had to pay for our food in the normal fashion. At some point, when he reached a degree of hunger which really only a stoned Wilking or a stoned Dobs can testify to, he decided that he would just grab some pizza off the floor and eat it. The specific piece of pizza he decided upon was fantastic. For one thing, it had been sitting on the floor for at least 4 days or so. It was entirely dried out and crusty. I can't tell you exactly how old it was, because it was mixed in among all the other random pizza boxes, but it was not fresh. The other distinguishing mark of the pizza were the small nibbles taken out of the crust and various other parts of the slice. Basically, a mouse or several mice, had been eating this pizza prior to Wilking deciding to do the same. As soon as someone realized that Wilking was eating the mouse pizza and I can't imagine that we didn't laugh for years. It added to the legend of the fact that he at one point ate a chipotle burrito which had been sitting on the table for several days (notably, a burrito which contained sour cream, a substance known far and wide for its wonderful reaction to time sitting on the table) and at another point attempting to kill Sanjay by feeding him boiled eggs which had gone rotten in the previous calendar year.

I guess that is enough for the moment. Time to evaluate how annoying the new format is.

Peace,

MB-K