I went to DC one weekend to visit my friends. Apparently, we haven't ruined enough peoples lives, so we I decided to crash a party thrown by a girl we went to law school with. We weren't invited, but we just assumed she didn't have our phone numbers and went anyway.

The party was a typical collection of DC young professional shit-bags. Everyone wanted to tell you how important they were, who they worked for, what their SAT score was, etc., etc. I fought back in the only way I knew how: I got real drunk and made fun of everyone. Eventually, I got pretty hungry, so a friend of mine went looking for food, and came back with a brownie. It was good, and I searched out the brownie dispenser, some guy who looked like Vince Vaughn in Swingers. I ate another, and then a third.

Now, I have never taken any drugs in my life. No pot, no coke, no heroin, no crank, no special k, no X, nothing. Just a lot of the drink. As a result, I am not accustomed to the effects of narcotics. Before I knew it, I was slouched on the sofa, saying "dude" and "bro" between every word. I found myself really into Pink Floyd and The Grateful Dead. Up until that point in my life, I hated their music; I'd have rather listened to a small child being sexually abused, but now I really understand them. I ate half of a cold pizza I found in the fridge to get rid of a horrible case of the munchies. The girl who threw the party came by and told me she was happy that I came to the party, that'd I'd been really calm and mellow, and that I was welcome any time. In law school, this girl had described me as "worse than Satan." It was surreal.

We went home and I eventually passed out on my friend's couch at around 3am.

I was shocked into consciousness at 5am by intense and excruciating pain in my lower abdomen. It was awful. I had to shit worse than I have ever had to in my life, even worse than the time I drank tap water in Mexico.

I started to go to the bathroom, but couldn't walk because the pain and cramps were so bad. I crawled to the bathroom, where I pulled myself up onto the toilet and let loose a shit. IT HURT. It felt like it came out sideways. It was worse than a spinal tap. While still sitting on the toilet and violently shitting my internal organs, I passed out from the intense combination of pain, alcohol and brownie.

When I came too, I was still sitting on the toilet. I crawled off the toilet, cleaned myself to the best of my limited ability while still on my hands and knees, slinked into the hallway and passed back out on the floor. I repeated the "violently shitting out my internal organs" scene three mores times in the next hour, each time praying for some sort of relief.

I began by swearing to any God that would listen to me, that I would commit my life to his service if he would only make the pain stop. This prayer changed in to a simple request for the sweet release of death. The prayer session ended on an angry note, highlighted by me cursing the entire concept of a higher being, and threatening to dedicate my entire existence to castrating innocent orphans if the pain did not immediately stop. I ended the night by offering my soul to Satan in exchange for relief from this unconscionable agony. He told me I'm going to hell anyway, so I have nothing to bargain with.

I will never eat brownies again.