Big trouble in little Venezuela..

Let me get this straight; Stewart got fired from a volunteer job?

I'd like to get my hands on that sorry piece of Central American shit that kicked Stewart out of his house. What kind of worthless prick kicks a volunteer doctor from another country out of his house? If I was Stewart, I would have done that nasty bastard a favor and burned his house to the ground as I stood in the street singing a Spanish version of "We Didn't Start The Fire" by Billy Joel, while all of his worldly possessions went up in flames. (Stewart on the other hand, probably made his bed and left them $100 on the table.)

I was almost evicted once, in college. I was living in a house across the street from The Supper Club in Auburn and I paid $375.00 a month. It was a tiny 2 bedroom 1 bath SHIT-HOLE. I'm not talking about one of those cute, hip, nostalgic, old houses like you find on Samford or Glenn Av., I'm talking about a true to life pile of shit that wasn't worth a dollar, much less $375...

The one advantage to this place was that there was ample parking and the den (Which had been an addition to the house several years after it's original construction) was gigantic. This meant it was the optimal location for "pledge kegs". For those of you who aren't familiar with the term "Pledge Keg", these are parties that the pledge's at a fraternity are expected to host several times a week so the "Brothers" can come get wasted for free and try to pick up the girls that the pledge's have spent all week convincing that "The Hunch Punch isn't that strong!".

I was about three months behind on my rent and we had just hosted a "fish fry social" with one of the sororities. Well to prepare for this fish fry, we bought several bails of hay and placed them in a semi-circle in the front yard, roughly 200 pounds of fish, hush puppies and french fries. Also, three kegs, 6 cases of wine, three handles of Jim Beam, 18 bottles of Everclear, various chopped fruits, and some Hawaiian Punch. We also went to the local rental center and got a huge, trailer mounted, portable deep fryer. Needless to say, the party was a huge success. I would estimate approximately 300 people were there at the peak of the evening (Plus or Minus 100).

That night, after the kegs were dry and the hunch punch was gone, a couple of my pledge brothers and I went out looking for some trouble.... we found it.

You see, a couple of months after moving to Auburn I met a gentleman that for the sake of anonymity, I will call "Dreddy Patrick". Well DP introduced me to the wonderful world of psychedelic mushrooms (and countless other interesting and highly illegal methods of mind alteration). I remembered him telling me about a field where the mushrooms grew naturally on the outskirts of town and tonight felt like the perfect night to scout it out. Our trip was successful and we returned to my house at about 2:30 in the morning with the bounty of or midnight harvest. I cooked the mushrooms up in a tea/kool-aid concoction, just as DP had taught me and we settled in for one hell of a ride....

My recollection of the events that immediately followed is limited at best, but the next morning I awoke on one of the hay bails in the front yard wearing nothing but a towel and some make-up that probably belonged to the girl on the ground beside me. I gathered my composure and began to survey the area.

The trailer mounted deep fryer was jack-knifed into the side of one of my pledge brothers Tahoe, and that same Tahoe was planted firmly into the rear end of a Volkswagen Passat that, again, probably belonged to the girl laying on the ground beside me.

Just as I realized that the toilet from my bathroom was sitting on the front porch in several pieces, a car entered the driveway. As you can probably guess by now, my landlord had just pulled up on what can only be described as a "93-Octane Freak Show" and the front yard of his rental property was center ring.

I'll spare you the gory details of the next twenty five minutes of my life, but I was able to work out a deal that included paying all three months of back rent (This was something that I resisted vigorously in the beginning, but it was non-negotiable. Truthfully, even if it had been negotiable, I probably wouldn't have been too successful considering all I had on was a towel and some "deep maroon" lip-stick).

Collecting the delinquent rent was really all the man came for. Once I made good on the promise to write him a check (a valid check that actually drew funds from an active bank account) he was on his way and I was left to clean up the aftermath of the Armageddon that had taken place at my house the night before..

That was the last time I ever experimented with any sort of psychedelic drug. That's also the last time I ate fish or drank hunch punch...

Moral of the story;

It takes A LOT to get evicted from a house...way to go Stewart!