A little too much

Title: A little too much



         In my youth I had the pleasure to work at a movie theater called Marcus Theaters of Orland Park.  One day while I was in the break room a six dollar and seventy-five cent bet was sent out by my supervisor, Micah Eubanks, to chug a fourteen ounce cup filled with pretzel salt.  I grabbed the cup and chugged the salt.  I collected my six dollars and seventy five cents which was one dollar and sixty cents more than what I was getting paid an hour.  I was in for the biggest surprise of my life, because I had no idea of what the consequences were for consuming that much pretzel salt.   
I was walking pretty tall after that, until the pain in my stomach started to kick in.  Oh the pain.  I ran to the bathroom and got to retaste my breakfast, which just happened to be potato soup out of a can.  Yes I threw up, and I didn’t stop throwing up either.  I was able to throw up in every male stall in the building.  Setting a record that can’t be beat.  Once all the food was out of my stomach all I saw my self throwing up was just salt.  There was just a bunch of ripples in the toilet water.  I decided I needed to hydrate myself after seeing all that salt hit the toilet water.  So I bought a large cup from the vending stand for water.  There went four dollars of the six seventy-five I was given to eat the salt.  So now all I have is two dollars and seventy-five cents.
I got so exhausted I just laid on the bathroom floor, the same bathroom floor that is covered in dirt and urine.  I was too exhausted to care about the fact that my head was in a puddle of urine.  Eventually, customers started to complain that there was some boy laying on the bathroom floor.  My general manager, Darrell Hall, kicked open the stall door looked at me in disgust and yells, “What’d you do?”
All I could do was look up at him and say, “I ate some salt sir.”
The general manager decided he should call the poison control.  He explains to the lady on the phone that one of his employees consumed an excessive amount of salt for a bet.  Instead of telling the general manager to get me to a hospital or anything like that, she laughs at the fact that I’m laying on the piss covered bathroom floor.  Then once she stops laughing she then again doesn’t give instructions on what to do, nope, she wants to know how much money I was given for the bet.  After being told how I was given six dollars and seventy-five cents, she doesn’t give her knowledge once again.  She laughs again and tells my general manager that I should have gotten twenty dollars and that he should pay the difference.  Finally when the general manager agreed to pay the difference that I never received, the lady told him to get me to a hospital right away.
So now all I had to do is call my dad and tell him to pick me up and bring me to the hospital because I ate a great amount of salt.  Sounds easy enough.  So from the piss covered floor I called my dad.  He picks the phone up and all I say is, “Dad I did something stupid at work, you need to pick me up.”  That was it.  I’m sure he thought I was getting arrested for stealing or was caught smoking pot at work, but I didn’t care.  I just couldn’t bring my self to tell him that I overdosed on salt.  When the old man did show up the general manager showed him to the bathroom floor that I was laying on.
On the way to the hospital I got to listen to the soothing sound of my father yelling at me about how much of an idiot I was.  That is, except when my head was out the window because I was throwing up.  I could hear the puke hitting the car as we drove to the hospital.  When I would pull my head in the car I got to hear about how the puke will scratch the car and how I’m going to have to pay for the removal or the scratches. 
When I finally got into the emergency room, I had to tell the nurses what happened.  They responded by laughing at me.  Once an I.V. was put in my arm I felt much better.  Through out my stay at Palos Hospital I got to hear my dad yell at me and tell me how I was going to end up like the drunk in the next bed over.  The drunk fell and cut his head open and didn’t know where he was.  So my dad kept pointing towards him and whispering, “See him, that’ll be you one day!”
Eight hours later I was released from the hospital.  While my dad got to fill out paper work I had to go to the bathroom and change.  In the bathroom I discovered a great thing, the little circles things on my chest that were used to monitor my heart.  I stood in front of the mirror and pretend I was the Hulk and harshly ripped them off my chest.  Most fun I had all day.  When we left I was able to listen to my dad yell at me from the first step out of the hospital all the way to my house.  He would say things like, “What if you worked at a bar and someone dared you to chug a whole bottle of rum?  Would you do that too?”  You would think he would eventually run out of things to yell about, but no. 
That night after I had to have a long talk with my parents, God do I ever hate those talks, I learned that half the people that worked with me that day called my house to see if I was still alive because there were already rumors going around at my work that I was dead. 
That next morning I went into work and learned that I wasn’t fired.  So I got to work eight hours the day after I was in the hospital.  Not only that but I was promoted a month later to be a supervisor.  My guess was they were happy I didn’t sue, so they promoted me.
That next spring I was on my way to Andrew High School’s prom.  Because I didn’t go to Andrew High School, I was with a group of people that I really didn’t know except my date.  One kid in our group starts to talk about a kid who use to work at Marcus Theaters.  Well one day this kid ate a whole bunch of salt and he had to be rushed to the hospital in an ambulance.  I was shocked.  This kid was talking about me and he had absolutely no idea that I was in the same car with him.  It was like I had become a legend or a myth.  So I decided to add to the legendry by saying, “Hey, do you think the kid survived?”
He thought about it for a minuet and said, “I bet you he didn’t.  I mean who could survive that?”
I looked right back at him and said, “Oh Man I bet you he died too.”
         So you might be thinking, was it worth it?  Was it worth the pain and agony, the great disproval of my parents, the humiliation of laying on the piss covered bathroom floor of a public building and having people looking at me while they were peeing, and the one thousand five hundred dollar hospital bill that wasn’t covered by the insurance company because they don’t cover salt overdoses. Was it worth all that just to become a myth at a high school that I had never gone to, to set a silly record at a place where I don’t even work at anymore, and to have a story that I can tell people that will be unlike any other story they’ve ever heard?  You’re damn right it was.







Sorry for spelling and grammar errors.  I wrote this while I was in high school and will fix it when my final exams are over.  I didn't think it would bother people.  I was just trying to make people laugh with this story.