casting pizza before swine

Yesterday a good friend of mine and I went for a long hike in the woods. It involved torn pants (I tripped) and torn flesh (he slid down a bit of a rock face on his elbow), but really, a good time was had by all. On the way home we were exhausted and starving, so we called for pizza from the cell phone so it'd arrive shortly after our own arrival.

As expected, the pizza arrived soon after we stumbled in the door. We popped in a movie and poured some drinks (both had water to rehydrate; plus I had a tasty cotes du rhone, he had some pilsner). The pizza was tasty. Loaded with meat, cheese, meat, and cheese, and meat.

It was about 30 minutes later that the couch beneath us began to rumble and my friend's leg began to twitch from the effort of gaseous expulsions. Soon we were choking on a cloud of our own emissions (75% him, 25% me - he had beer too, remember?), and I lit matches and beeswax candles to cut the stench. Puerile humans that we are, we were laughing so hard we could no longer follow what was happening in the movie, so I hit pause, and he took the opportunity to run up the stairs to the bathroom.

Many minutes passed.

I finally hollered up the stairs, "You alright up there?"

He hollered back, with an exaggerated drunken slur for effect:
"What the hell kind of bathroom doesn't have a plunger!?"

Another long pause, and then he suddenly announced:
"I've taken my pants off -- I don't need them anymore!!"

By this point I had collapsed with laughter on the landing and was gasping for breath when he shouted gleefully:
"I'll need you to pass me up two bottles of bleach... and some steel wool."

And finally, with my stomach aching from laughing, he exclaimed:
"They don't teach you about this in biology class! But I think everything's going to be... okay!!"

Thank you Lorenzo's Pizzeria. You do good work.