I had a large monk friend named brother Raphael who loved soda to the point that it makes me sick to remember him. He used to shit these great lumps, and when they plopped into the water below his balls, they would fizz like antacid tablets due to all the carbonation stuck in his gut.
I remember walking into his room once (the door was always closed) and I found stacks of soda cases (cases!) from the floor to the ceiling. The bottles were not empty, but filled with cigarette butts, and his desk was rotting because of the sugar in the air.
Europeans were singing american songs outside, like YMCA, but they have no idea how to pronounce the letters so it came out "YAYYYY MA CEE YA! la la la la la la YAYYYYY MA CEE YA!"
It was actually an amazing medley, with air guitar to the tune of ode to joy and beethoven's fifth, and under pressure, but they only knew the refrains that we all know, so each tune lasted fifteen seconds, and then they stopped clapping and things got awkward. not for them, for me, because I was trying to sing with them, and not being drunk or european I became incredible shy and withdrew from the window back into my raphael's room with the bottles of Coke and cigarettes.
The singing was mainly done by men, but the talking afterwards was done mainly by the women (girls). Had I killed myself then, I would have missed all the stuff that happened now.
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