I got hungry last night for some cereal, much like I do every night, at about 11:30pm. That's cereal time for me - a time when I sit down to a bowl of crunchy, milky heaven. Well, I opened the cupboard that, since two days ago, has been designated "the food cupboard belonging to Barry and Scott," and smiling back at me was a box of O's.
For those of you who don't know what O's are, go to Walmart and look for the box that says "O's". It's yellow and red and delicious. Seriously, if you're an O's virgin, you need to make like Madonna and go at it for the very first time. Cause - I tell you what - they're amazing.
Anyway, I got my bowl of O's and opened the fridge and looked to the bottom row, which had, since two days ago, been designated "Barry and Scott's fridge-space for the placement of food." I grabbed my milk (or so I thought) and poured into the bowl of heaven's sacred cereal. With my late night treat in hand I headed back to my room where Scott and I were about to watch some internet hilarity. I sat down. I bent over to take a bite of cereal and suddenly smelled feet.
"Oh, man" I thought, "Scott's feet have really started stinking..."
In a split second my mind calculated the nasty ramifications of having a stinky footed roommate. All the times I would have to put up with the smell. Would I tell him? Would I just let it pass?
I put the spoonful of cereal into my mouth and began chewing. It was then that I realized Scott's feet didn't stink. In an instant, the smell of feet overloaded my senses. My eyes watered, my sinuses burned, as if the very stench of feet was rolling down the back of my throat.
And, in fact, the very stench of feet WAS rolling down the back of my throat! The milk was bad.
So awfully bad that it didnt' resemble milk anymore. It was a flavor and smell unlike anything I've ever experienced, which means a lot. I lived in Mexico for two years.
I spat the cereal back into the bowl, gagging. Scott smelled it then, too, and hid his face from the monstrous aura of death creeping out of my bowl and into my room. I ran to the kitchen, threw the faucet into a frenzied torrent, flipped on the garbage disposal, and disposed the entire contents of the bowl - 1/4 box of O's cereal.
Dejected, I opened the fridge to see how my milk - which I bought only a few days ago - could be so rancid, so soon. Surely enough, milk had been placed on the bottom row. Milk that wasn't mine. Milk that had probably been forgotten long ago and instead of being discarded, was simply moved from station to station within the frigde - wherever it would be out of the way - by others who cared no more about it than I did. It had a blue lid, just like mine.
And the date of expiration? September 14th, 2008.