Aric McKeown

It was rather mild for a winter night on December 6th. The Neutrino Video Project: Twin Cities was in full swing with Corey Anderson and I beating the pavement to bring filmed comedy to the crowd a patrons sitting in the cramped Bryant Lake Bowl theater.

While filming for the production is generally done outside or in public spaces, this evening we were lucky enough to have keys to the apartment of Jimmy Gaines. Our instructions on how to behave while in the apartment? Treat it like it was our own.

I’m sure you have already surmised that this lead to the consumption of some Prego spaghetti sauce, which had been sitting in a rather lonely state in the refrigerator. The milk and Diet Pepsi that had kept the bottle of sauce company for so long felt dejected, but time was running short for our improvisation. Feelings of inanimate objects could not be taken into consideration.

One more key ingredient was not taken into consideration. Expiration dates. My logic, when grabbing the Prego was as follows.

If there are only a sparse few items in the refrigerator, certainly they are all of importance and, therefore, well maintained.

After leaving the apartment in near mint condition, without bothering to note the expiration date on the Prego, the sickness started to set in. A sour stomach and migraines crashed over me like a wave of onions and mushrooms while running three blocks back to the Bryant Lake Bowl.

But was this sickness real? Was the hilarious comedy prop really past its prime, or was my paranoid mind the culprit in some sort of less than comic masquerade?

While the combination of drinking spaghetti sauce and running at top speed back to the theater may seem like the obvious items of blame, the migraine and sour stomach continue on the day after. Soul coughing has not occured, which lends credence to the paranoia theory.

As it stands, I am not going to die from tomato sauce poisoning. But it may be a long time before I use Prego as a beverage again. And, honestly, isn’t that sad?