By January 7, 2008

Arby’s strikes again.

Fast food joint Arby’s and I have a coy little game going on. I try to beat their “5 for $5.95” value menu or whatever the hell and theytry to kill me about once a year. See, they have regular roast beef sandwiches for a couple of bucks, or you can get the Arby’s melt as one of the many things you can get for about $1.20 each. I don’t like all that shitty pump-cheese on my food, so I normally get two melts with cheese, and three melts without cheese. Then I combine them, Voltron-like (Voltron of the Near Universe, if you are being particular), into two sandwiches. I know, the math doesn’t work out, just remember I’m a liberal arts major. Let’s move on to the part where I almost shit myself.

So anyway, I had Arby’s for lunch on Thursday afternoon. I received two boxes of Magic boosters in the mail, and was opening them while talking to Stilts over Skype. Somewhere in between being happy about getting another Timber Protector and bemoaning yet another Bog Hoodlums, I got a little light-headed. I didn’t pay much attention to it, but by 6:30 that evening I was seriously wounded. I laid down in bed, and the next thing I knew I was in the bathroom.

Now … okay. Having a beard is normally pretty nice when it’s cold out. It keeps wind from drafting underneath my motorcycle helmet, and some hot chicks like it. The downside of facial hair becomes immediately evident when bits of mostly-digested roast beef rocket off the porcelain back your face. After hurling until my nose bled and I pulled my back muscles, I got up, brushed my teeth, washed the ol’ facerug out, blew my nose a few times, and sat back in bed. Only to have barf drain back through my nasal passages into my mouth. Yeah.

I didn’t feel like puking again, but I did become reacquainted with the fun bowl game “Splattergories.” It’s a messy little gem, but I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say I was afraid to pass gas because I didn’t want to have an accident until yesterday.

Anyway, I canceled Friday Night Magic with Stilts, which cascaded into shit-canning his whole visit this weekend. I slept for about 20 hours on Saturday. That’s probably more sleep than I get in four or five days. I felt a little better come Saturday, and started drinking chicken broth, eating instant mashed potatoes, and other low-impact foods and migrated 100% to solid food yesterday.

It’s going to be hard to resist the allure of Arby’s, especially when every last one of my friends likes it a lot. But I know this for sure: I’m avoiding the motherfucking pump cheese.

No tags for this post.
Posted in: gibberish

3 Comments on "Arby’s strikes again."

Trackback | Comments RSS Feed

  1. Ed says:

    Resistance is futile.

  2. IRS says:

    I’m thinkin’ Arby’s!

  3. Dear Mr. Gibberish,

    We at Arby’s™ take great pride in the quality and taste of our roast beef, pump cheese, and ALL the fine Arby’s™ products.

    We are quite distressed to hear that one of our biggest customers has been so violently ill. However, we would like to point out that there is no direct evidence suggesting Arby’s™ fine products were to blame.

    Simply looking over your site, we have found several other possible causes. You are well aware that a possible supervirus could bring about a zombie apocalypse. Perhaps you are patient zero, having picked up and trapped a wide range of virii while riding a motorcycle with your beard.

    Perhaps a vendor with a vendetta (low # of STFU mugs anyone?) has poisoned you with a radioactive isotope.

    In any case, Arby’s™ is proud to present you with a coupon good for one gallon of motherfucking pump cheese™, with dispenser!

    And thanks again for not breaking your gag order which restricts you from pointing out the embarrasingly phallic nature of the Arby’s™ logo!!

    Respectfully Yours,
    Arby’s™ Corporate Counsel Division

    Arby’s™ Law Offices “Where’s the Beef? Its in the Out of Court Settlement!”™