poopfish

When I return to work after a weekend I am always greeted with the same question, “How was your weekend?” For the most part I tend to recount some of the more interesting things that I had done, but every once in a while there is something that happens that I must say is worth telling.

This past weekend my wife and I had dinner with our friends at a restaurant called La Pizzeria. These dinners are always fun. Each of us has a nerdy sense of humor and will feed off each other’s funny. The main focus of our laughter that night revolved around a fictional sock named Stan.

In terms of sock shape and form, Stan would be your average white sock. There is nothing really special in his appearance that would set him apart from his sock brethren. His only defining feature is his name embroidered on the heel. A tattoo of sorts, but instead of pen and ink we have needle and thread.

After a few drinks and a wonderful Caesar salad, it was decreed between the four of us that Stan was a worthy sock and we would not mind having him adorning one of our feet, left or right did not matter.

Through the rest of the evening’s meal, we speculated on how life would be different with Stan as our own personal sock. One possible future was to turn to a life of crime. Stan would be our ace in the hole for the perfect crime. Hypothetically, we would do all that cool planning that is done for a heist like in the movies. You know, get a warehouse, set up a life size working replica of a vault, acquire any and all electrical gadgetry required, make sure we have a car, helicopter, private jet, and boat on hand as well. No guns though, a civilized criminal has no need of such things.

Whoops! Forgot to assemble the team, but that is a no brainer. The team would consist of yours truly, my wife, our two friends, and of course Stan. Now let’s fast forward to and then through the night of the heist. I will just say that it went splendidly with some minor issues, but nothing we could not handle.

It is now the following day after our amazing heist and the police are combing over the crime scene for finger prints, clues, notes, or anything left behind that would help them discover and find the thieves responsible (spoiler alert… it was us!). You may recall that I said Stan was our ace in the hole and that he is. Here is where Stan’s genius comes into play. Stan never left the scene of the crime. He has artfully placed himself under a discarded 50-dollar bill in the vault for the police to find.

When the police collect the 50-dollar bill for evidence they would find Stan and tag and bag him as well. After many cups of coffee, two packs of cigarettes, stale chips, and not so chewy candy bars the police would examine the sock they collected and see it is embroidered with a name, Stan. Finally they have a big break in their case or so we have led them to believe. Hahahahaha! Measurements, thread count, style of sock would all be taken into account so a sketch artist could accurately draw the foot of the criminal whose name is Stan. The sketch would appear in newspapers, magazines, and on the World Wide Web. All saying “If you have seen this foot that wore this sock do not approach or try to apprehend it on your own. Call 911 right away to inform them that you have crossed paths with Stan.” The foot hunt would be on and would eventually lead to a dead end. The case would be forgotten and Stan would slip away back to our group to share in the spoils of our masterfully planned heist.

Of course our lust to rob, pillage, and plunder banks would be insatiable. More heists would ensue and we would enlist the aid of other articles of clothing with names embroidered on them to throw the police off our scent. There would be a shirt named Harry, a sweater vest name Rita, a belt name Sergio, and many more. Glorious is a word that comes to mind. Oh yes…it would be glorious.

Nearing the end of the evening, food finished, drinks drank, and our bellies full we sit and wait for the bill, which after it is paid will end the festivities for the night. It was actually not all that late. Bars and other restaurants surround La Pizzeria with lively crowds just beginning their nighttime adventures. We were dining outside and had a good view of the people walking up and down the street. In order keep the outside seating area relatively private there were walls that separated La Pizzeria from its neighbors. They were not sturdy walls, but walls woven together out of some material with little areas that you could see through.

My wife and one of our friends were sitting with their backs to that same wall. I believe if my memory serves correct, that the establishment next door was a wine bar, which also had a seating area outside. So after we paid out bill and were getting ready to leave we all heard a very disturbing sound. First the sound hits your ears and then you silently confirm with eyes wide in disbelief that yes that is what is happening behind the wall. So what was going on you ask?

Well to put it bluntly, a person had either staggered off the street or staggered out of the wine bar to spew their guts out. It all started off slow as if the person was trying to hold in what I could only assume was their dinner and then just gave up and threw in the towel as we heard waves of vomit splash on the pavement. Like most people, I have been near someone that has thrown up in close proximity to myself, usually in a bathroom. I have even been in a bar watching people lined up to enter a club across the street, when girl quick burst through the ranks and hides behind a sign, but still in plain view of the street and everything else, and projectile vomits onto the sidewalk. Her boyfriend came out to find her shortly after and then proceeded to make out with her. He must have been really drunk as well, because it appeared he could not tell… Well you get it.

Anyway, until that night I had not experienced someone discharging the contents of their stomach after a lovely dinner with goods friends and awesome stories of a sock named Stan. I am not angry or put off by the whole affair. I am actually quite satisfied because like was said at the very beginning of this story, this is something definitely worth telling to your co-workers at the start of the workday on a Monday morning.

It really was the end to a perfect evening.