THE
BARBECUE
SAUCE
AFFAIR A TRUE STORY OF
TRAGEDY IN THE WORKPLACE. AS NOVELIZED IN THE
WRITING STYLE OF
MICHAEL J. CUELLAR THE TALE OF TWO GUYS,
ONE REFRIGERATOR,
AND A JAR OF
BARBECUE SAUCE
You wouldn't know it by looking at him, indeed, you would think quite the opposite, but Jeremy Horst is a klutz. I had heard stories of how sophisticated he could be, IĠd even seen him in action a couple times: Homecoming in particular, being a perfect gentleman with his girlfriend, Missy, and never making a social blunder, but come the times it matters, he's a klutz. Everyone knows one of the most famous stories, where he was on the student council retreat. I wasn't there, I heard this secondhand, but I trust the people who told me, so I believe it is a true story. See, Jeremy was on the Student Council retreat, and he was the only one with a flashlight. They are out in the woods, so of course, it's dark. Now here comes Jeremy, walking along with his flashlight- and remember, he's the only one with a flashlight- when his clumsiness got the better of him. He claims he wasn't looking at the table. He says he was looking to the side, but there is no definite proof for this claim, so we all just agree that he's lying, and tease him for it. Either way, somehow or other, the ONLY guy to be carrying a flashlight, AT NIGHT, ran himself into a picnic table, that was right in front of him. I don't know much, I'm just relating the facts as they were given to me, but it seems that Jeremy was awfully clumsy in this particular story. Which brings me to this particular Venture. My name is Mike, and Jeremy is my best friend. Well, this happened, February 9, 1998, at Stanford University. We had just finished a concession job at a baseball game, and everything went great. Well, me and Jeremy were given the task of cleaning up the outside table. The one that had all the condiments. Which, I think is, where all the trouble began. I suppose you could label the problem, too many objects and not enough space, and then blame one of the laws of Physics that says that two objects cannot occupy the same point in space at the same time, but why let Jeremy off the hook? It was his fault, so I'm going to do my darndest to make sure it stays that way. There's no way he's going to pass the buck to me, it wasn't my fault. I had just finished bringing in the container of condiments: mustard, ketchup, sauerkraut, relish and something else that I can't remember just now, and I was busy putting them away in the refrigerator that was in the back. There wasn't really enough room, so I moved the box of processed cheese (you know, the stuff that can hermetically seal and keep anything safe no matter where it is) over to the side and stuffed the container into the fridge. Ahhhh, perfect fit. No wait, what's this? A container of what looked like ketchup was teetered precariously on its edge, so I righted it and stuck it on the lower shelf. Then, Jeremy came in bearing the container of Jalapenos. He had to stick that in the fridge, also. He figured he could move things around with impunity, so he hefted the bottle of what I thought was ketchup, but was actually barbecue sauce, and positioned it on the second or third shelf. I wasn't sure which, I had my back turned at this point. Now, since I had my back turned, I'm not exactly sure what happened next, but what I am sure of, is that this day will live in infamy, known forever after as the Barbecue Sauce Affair. Now, I can't speak for Jeremy, I don't know what was going through his mind, but I imagine I can piece together pretty accurately what he did, even though I didn't see it. Now, most importantly to this tale, you must understand this, this next part was written with no consultation from Jeremy himself, so I may be in error. The views expressed here are my own, and in no way am I sure this is the truth. This is an artists impression of what ran through his head when this happened. Jeremy had just positioned the barbecue sauce on the third shelf, next to a container of mustard, and gotten ready to place the jalapenos in the fridge when his glance strayed to the jar he had just placed on the shelf. Insanely, it was tipping over, and about to fall to the ground. Directly beneath it, was another container of mustard. Jeremy watched in horror, helpless, as the jar of sauce began its descent. He lunged to stop it, but realized, even as he did, that it was too late. He watched as the Jar plummeted to the ground and hit. There was aloud terrific BOOM! as the jar hit, and I whirled around to see what he could have possibly done. I wasn't disappointed. I looked at his face first, so I didn't notice, so I followed his gaze downward and there it was. Surrounding him, like some sort of vile life form, was a pool of barbecue sauce about a yard in diameter, with mustard beginning to pour out of the mustard jar that had fallen when the sauce caught it. He stood staring vacantly at it, still holding the jalapenos in his hand as if frozen at the point where he was about to place them in the refrigerator. I stood frozen for a split second, and looked at him. His gaze traveled upward to look at me, and at the same moment, we broke into laughter. Well, that's not entirely accurate. I laughed at him. He didn't feel like laughing at the time. So there he was, standing in a puddle of barbecue sauce, and holding jalapenos, with no idea what to do. Well, eventually, he snapped out of his comatose state, and put the jalapenos away. Then he asked Mr. Erickson what he should do about it. Needless to say, Mr. Erickson was not pleased. He ordered me and Jeremy to clean it up (yes, poor innocent me!) and went back to work. So, me and Jeremy cleaned it up. Using those fold up boxes as shovels, we got most of it cleaned up and in the garbage. Then, we mopped the floor until it was shiny enough to see our reflections in it. It wasn't until later, that we realized that the damage was greater then we had originally surmised. There were barbecue sauce and mustard smatterings all over the wall, up to Jeremy's eye level, believe it or not. So, we- well, HE- cleaned that up, since he had made the mess to begin with. When we were finished, we were not happy. Jeremy had sauce all over his jeans, and I had mustard all over my pants. That's not even the worst of it. The mustard got on my LETTERMAN JACKET!!!!!! MY NICE, WARM $230 LETTERMAN JACKET!! Well, I'm over that now, and I'm pretty sure that I'm done with this story, having related to you, the valued reader, the amazing(ly stupid) but true tale of the Barbecue Sauce Affair.