Congratulations on Getting Thrown Out of Bob Evans!

There isn’t a lot to do in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.  There’s the Dogfish Head Brewery, the Dogfish Head Brew Pub, around seven Candy Kitchens along the boardwalk and a Bob Evans Family Restaurant clinging to the edge of one of its many strip malls.

Tonight you and your buddies are going to ride out to a Bob Evans and tear it up.  You’ll bring a bottle of scotch each and begin eating as much pig as you can in a terribly conceived race to see who can throw up first.

Fifty minutes in you’ll each be halfway through your whiskey, screaming racial epithets at the wait staff and throwing booths at one another.  This will be quite normal in a Bob Evans and, as such, will not get you thrown out.

But seventy minutes in you’ll be crouched above your table, hovering as you scream as loud as you ever have in your life.  A massive turd will crown out of your asshole and the wait staff will roll their eyes at you and your cheering friends as if to say “this again?”

Two minutes later you’ll be out on the street, a new story in your story bag and an ample amount of pork infused shit on your shoes.

Congratulations on Getting Thrown Out of Bob Evans!