Brownies

Upon returning from swimming last night, my roommates and I were famished. To our surprise, there was a platter of brownies waiting at our doorstep, with a note saying it was from some girls next door. It struck us odd that these particular girls would leave us brownies, because we'd recently had an unpleasant run-in with them. Letting our hunger cloud our better judgment, we took the brownies into the kitchen and promptly devoured them.

Later that night we ran into the girls and thanked them for the brownies, to which they asked with confusion, "What brownies?" I would've thought they were messing with us, but these particular girls are almost too upstanding. It felt like a lead weight hit the bottom of my stomach, and I had an overwhelming sense of alarm. We quickly questioned some other girls in the area if they had been the brownie benefactors. No one knew what we were talking about.

We quickly came to the conclusion that we'd been pranked, and that these brownies had been tampered with. Our imaginations began turning like a Rolodex, trying to conceive all the wonderful things you can do with brownies -- methylene blue, laxatives, dirt, etc. Feeling slightly ashamed of ourselves, we retreated back to our apartment to watch a movie. Throughout the duration of the film it became more and more evident what we'd partaken of. Basically everyone in the room had the worst case of indigestion of their lives, and it smelled like it. We rapidly realized the added ingredient was almost certainly a laxatives, and we went to bed in fear.

Needless to say, we were up all night using the bathroom and stealing other apartments' toilet paper. The following morning we awoke with a bowel hangover, seething with malevolence and anger. We spent the morning contemplating who we knew that was so sadistic. The suspects included our roommate's girlfriend's roommates, with whom we had previously ended a prank war by burning their beloved poster of Shania Twain before their eyes. The other suspects included some boys who lived across the street who we had busted for egging our windows. Now we are scheming for revenge and trying to get the taste of Pepto-Bismol out of our mouths.