It was my night to cook and I had the bright idea to do it in MPT’s trailer because she had a kitchen with an oven.
The only thing was that we couldn’t get it to work and after messing with it for long enough, Loony decided whip up a fire and bank the coals so I could warm the enchiladas on them.
He was struggling with getting it lit (because MPT had exactly one match) and MPT was all incredulous like, “Wow, you are working really hard. What if you are tired? What if you want to go to sleep? Do you still keep working? How do you do that?” to which Loony said through gritted teeth, “I’m just trying to get this fire lit, okay?”
Then MPT’s dog Rizz walked over to the edge of the camp and hurled up a giant pile of yellow vomit.
“Oh shit,” said MPT. “She thew everything up. Are those carrots? Did I even feed her carrots.”
Loony: You have to clean that up.
MPT: Ok (but not moving)
Loony: Now. It attracts bears.
MPT: Can’t I do it in the morning?
Loony: You have to do it now.
Loony: Get that cup over there and rip a piece of cardboard to scrape the puke into it …
Me: DON’T HELP HER! IT’S A TRICK! SHE KNOWS HOW TO CLEAN UP PUKE, SHE’S JUST PLAYING DUMB SO YOU’LL DO IT FOR HER!
MPT: (Playing along) Someone tell me how to walk! I’m stuck! Where’s the dumpster? I’M LOST!
Shortly after she cleaned up the puke she noticed that Rizz was acting weird. She flinched and cowered every time MPT reached out her hand to pet her.
MPT: She’s freaking out! You guys, I think something is really wrong with Rizz!
Me: She acting a little strange.
MPT’s son: What’s wrong with Rizz?
MPT: She’s really sick!
MPT’s son (crying): Is she going to die?
MPT: I DON’T KNOW!
Loony (pulling MPT aside): You have got to get yourself under control, your son is freaking out.
MPT: MY DOG IS FREAKING OUT!
Rizz hurled again and Alana, being the most responsible adult amongst all of us, poked at the puke with a stick and JUST LIKE DR. QUINN MEDICINE WOMAN declared that she would be fine but MPT could come get her in the middle of the night if she wanted her to look at Rizz again.
MPT’s niece said maybe Rizz just has Resting Puke Face which led to a humorous and insensitive interlude of us doing our best RPF.
Then MPT’s husband came over and said, “I think I know what’s wrong with Rizz.”
MYSTERY SOLVED! Someone who shall remain unnamed left some TOTALLY LEGAL edibles where the dog could get them (i.e. in a ziplock in a backpack). She at six of them. And the bag.
One of those bad boys would fuck me up for a half a day and I weigh three times what that dog does.
Alana assured MPT that Rizz wouldn’t die but she was going to have a really bad trip.
We joked that she was gonna need some Dark Side of the Moon on repeat and shitload of Doritos.
“I’ve known a couple animals that got stoned by accident. The dog was stoned for five days and the cat looked dead for two weeks. He was never the same.”
Rizz ended up being proof that miracles happen by being completely not stoned the next day. There was speculation that she only punctured one edible and the rest will pass intact in the plastic through her GI tract.
I told MPT to think of her as a drug mule from Bogota and just hose off the packs when they come out the other end.