The Lengths One Goes for a Friend

This story is one I wrote in the notebook and have been meaning to share. I hope you enjoy.

Thirteen years ago, half of my lifetime ago, I was a student hanging out with my friends, not working, not making plans for career advancement or worrying about paying bills. My braces had just come off and I had a retainer, but I was not unfortunate enough to be forced to wear it to school. One of my friends was not so lucky and she had to deal with it each day during lunch at school.

On the day of the most disgusting meal know to a student, my friend managed to leave the retainer on her tray and discard it with the remains of a vile concoction known as the pizza burger. A pizza burger was a soggy bun covered in burnt cheese and bland marinara sauce. It looked like vomit and smelled just as bad.

When she realized what she had done, she appropriately freaked. My friend begged me to help her and our fourth period English teacher obliged with hall passes. The janitor fitted me with latex gloves and I spent the next fifty minutes not learning about Anne Frank but digging through garbage cans full of half-eaten pizza burgers and open milk cartons, starting to pick up the rotten milk smell. This was a bit against my will and completely against my better judgment.
Rummaging through this trash is seriously one of the most awful experiences of my life. I was never a fan of school lunches and I still adore my mom for preparing my meals each day. I do have a rather strong stomach, but there are a few smells that make me nauseous. A certain fast food chain's name can cause a gag reflex for me and the smell of sour milk will make me leave the room. Add slimy, squishy pizza burgers and you will find me to be a not-so-happy camper.

There were four garbage cans. I found the retainer resting in the second one I was assigned to shift through. My friend was ecstatic and thankful. She washed it off and her parents never knew her mistake. I know that I never want to be exposed to pizza burgers again.