Chris ate a stick of butter.
The Story: Chris, Dave Boehm and I lived a few blocks from one another in Elmhurst. We met up almost every night between seventh and eight grades and watched baseball, talked about baseball or played our favorite game - Truth or Dare. It was really just "Dare" as only pansies took "Truth." Despite what you're thinking (wishing? You sick fuck!) nothing kinky ever happened. Typically, we just forced the boy who was "It" to eat something unpleasant. This included raw eggs, glasses of water topped with miscellaneous spices from my mom's spice rack, or ice cream mixed with mustard, ketchup and relish. One evening, Chris was It. Dave and I asked him to eat a stick of butter. It didn't matter that eating a stick of butter was unhealthy. It didn't matter that it was disgusting. It didn't even matter my mom would wonder why her butter was gone. Dave and I just wanted to see Chris eat it. He peeled back the foil and grimaced as he nibbled a corner. He protested, said he didn't want to play and it was a stupid game. Dave and I gave him shit. He continued to eat. A few minutes later, after he'd eaten about half the butter, Chris threw the stick on the ground and said he was done. Dave and I said "okay."