In early October of 2003, my friend
Will became shocked when he learned that I had never visited the abandoned
Waverly Tuberculosis Sanatorium. So we decided to go.
Actually, it's amazing how so many of these stories begin with Will
learning that I haven't engaged in a certain type of behavior and he
resolves for me to remedy the situation. He's a bad influence on
me. Someone needs to make a seating plan that places us on opposite
locations of the classroom in an effort to reduce our tomfoolery.
Anyway, when he, Marat and I arrived
at the sanatorium, we were told by the on-duty guards that we'd have to
wait for the current owner's approval before setting foot in the building
and she wasn't expected for another hour or so. That meant we had to
kill some time in the Dixie Hwy. vicinity. Ugh...the Dixie Highway
area. You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. *Lucasfilm
holds all copyrights to the proceeding phrase. Please remit a check
for $25,000 to Skywalker Ranch or face the penalty of up to fifty years in
prison and/or the death penalty by lethal injection* We
decided to honor the liverless ghost of Dave Thomas by hitting up the
dollar menu at the nearest Wendy's.
When we got there, Marat and I got
food while Will went over to the condiment and utensil stand and filled
three paper cups with ketchup. We sat down, Marat and I started on
our food and Will drank his ketchup. I asked him why he was doing it
and he simply replied, "I don't have any money." Well, ask
a stupid question I suppose. I offered some of my food or a couple
bucks to get some of his own, but he vehemently refused my offer. He
then went back up to the counter, got twenty-one more cupfuls of
ketchup and started sucking them down like whiskey shots. Will
wanted to stop around fifteen, but Marat and I pressed him into finishing
all of them. That's why he has a face of discomfort in the shot
above. The Heinz preservatives are doing their job a little too well
by rotting Will's stomach lining to keep it from producing digestive
enzymes. His poor duodenum was a withered away husk by the end of
the meal. It's what doctor's refer to as Kerry's Curse.
After Will finished his ketchup (that
phrase sounds utterly preposterous), he went out to smoke. Evidently
nicotine settles your stomach when you've engorged yourself on cheap
tomato paste. He got bored and pressed his face up the glass near us
and made some highly-forgettable expression. Moments later, a wiry
Wendy's worker came by our table and refilled my and Marat's drinks (me
and Marat's drinks....Marat's and my drinks...mine
and Marat's drinks...my
and Marat's drink...). Will called me on my
cell from outside and asked why the guy had refilled our drinks.
Rather than tell him the truth, that we were the only people in the
restaurant at that time of night and the guy was probably bored, I
fabricated a prankish lie. I said that the gentleman came by and
told us, "I'm going to refill your drinks because you're actually
courteous customers, unlike your friend outside. Obviously he
doesn't have any respect for the time and hard work it takes to make this
place look good."
Will, being a fairly
non-confrontational type despite what he might tell you, became paranoid
and wanted to know how pissed the guy was at him. I said he was
pretty steamed. Will called Marat and asked him to confirm my story.
Thankfully, Marat went along with my fabrication and added, "The guy
said that you'd better hope that you're not out there when he gets off
shift." Will told Marat that he wasn't going to come back
in. Learning that, we decided to take our leisurely time finishing
our meal to keep Will outside as long as possible. Adding to the
fun, the Wendy's worker took out the garbage to the dumpster while we were
still eating.
When Will saw the Wendy's man
approaching the doors, he ran and ducked behind my car. Things got
even better as the Wendy's man stopped outside for a smoke before
returning to work. He stood by the doors, looking in the direction
of Will's hiding spot. Undoubtedly he was wondering why a grown man
was ducked behind a car in the dark. After the worker returned
inside, Marat and I left. Will quickly got into my car and ordered
me to peel out of the parking lot to get away. Later that night, I
got my brother to call from home and pose as the Wendy's man. I knew
if Will bought it, he's be paranoid as shit. Regrettably, Will had
my home number stored in his cell and wasn't fooled. When he learned
the truth, that the guy never said a thing about him, he was pretty
pissed.
Now whenever the story is brought up,
Will denies it. Marat and I know the truth though. Will also made us swear never to tell anyone else in the first place
about the incident, but I decided to place it here on my website for all
to see anyway. After all, what are friends for?
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