Good God man, you don't have to tell me. I was there! I was the one who warned Chad, I told him, "Chad no, man, NO! No EyeToy after eating!"

Half the frat had just got back from the Steak House -- man, we really packed it down. I had the Prime Rib, and Chad had like a 16-ounce slab of center-cut sirloin. That was after we had the cheese fries appetizer. And one of those fried onion things. And a few pitchers of beer. And the salad. Then the steak, with the baked potato, and Chad had to top it off by ordering "Mount Cakemore," their huge dessert.

So they practically had to ROLL us down the parking lot. I could barely stand, much less walk. Five of us fit into the Jeepster on the way there, but on the way back I had to bum a ride in Pete's Saturn because I couldn't fit into the back. So we stumbled through the front doors of the house, and we all plopped onto the couch in the main room, undoing our belts and groaning.

But Chad's like, "I'm gonna *urp* play with the EyeToy."

The EyeToy is that little video camera dealie you can attach to your PlayStation to play party games -- you appear on the screen and you can interact with objects. But, you gotta be dancing all over the place -- it's like a workout. Anyways, Chad fires it up and declares he's gonna beat the house record in "Kung Foo." The high score screen for that game showed a picture of Mark posing, flexing his muscles after he set the record.

We're all begging him not to do it. "Aw man, *gruurp* Chad DUDE," Mark said. "I can't even WATCH you try to play that thing now."

Kung Foo is this game where all these little ninjas jump out at you from the sides of the screen, and you have to beat them off with your fists. Chad started the game and he was like, "Check out my moves, Shaolin style, WATAH!" he yelled. "I'm like that guy from that new Tom Cruise movie!" he said.

"Who ... Tom Cruise?"

"Yeah, I'm like Tom Cruise in that movie where he's like a *burp* Samurai, but he's also a white guy." Chad's fists were moving furiously, and his distended gut was moving in opposite directions. "You know, where they're like, 'Ah-so! Ret Honky Fight Ninja!'"

"Chad man," Mark said, "You're lookin' a little green."

Chad was definitely not looking good. "I'm almost at the record!" he yelled, and his stomach made this high-pitched growl. Chad covered his belly with one hand, burped, and desperately fought off the ninjas with his free hand. "I'm gonna *urrghp* get the RECORD!"

"God save the queen!" Mark cried out, hiding behind a pillow.

"Chad this next level's impossible, sit down! You're cramping!" I pleaded.

"I'm *urp* like that guy from the Jackie Chan movie!"

"Jackie Chan?"

"I think ... I'm gonna be sick..."

Mark peeked out from over his pillow. Suddenly, the TV screen filled with Ninjas, all jumping at Chad's head. Instead of leaping to his own defense, Chad lowered his arms limply to his side, his eyes bugging out, his head falling back.

Then he hurled.

I'm not even sure the word 'hurled' does this hurl justice. It was more like ... he burst. He threw his head back and just ... roared. Turning his head every which way. Like his face was a fire hydrant getting plowed over by a car. Not only did I see it, but I saw it reflected back to us on the big-screen TV.

And the ninjas -- I kid you not, the game couldn't tell the difference, so the ninjas on TV reacted to the spew, they went FLYING, hurting in all directions, screaming. We couldn't take our eyes off of it. It was mesmerizing. It was like pukenosis.

"HIGH SCORE!" the game yelled.

And then it took his picture to save it on the memory card.