the worst sushi experience

My sushi experience with my boss, Barry Lewis...we have a little sushi club that goes out every Tuesday for sushi.

You might ask yourself the following question: why would a person with at least an average IQ eat a raw egg? That is the same question I found myself asking when the sushi roll with a raw quail egg showed up on the tray last night.

"Try it," said Barry, "It's a delicacy." (I should know not to trust his judgment after he also encouraged me to go to a very boring 6 hour meeting because I would "learn something").
I didn't really want to eat the raw egg, but I had promised Barry I would try it. Plus, it costs an extra $.50 to get a raw egg on a sushi roll. But somehow the IDEA of a raw egg is less unpleasant than the ACTUAL raw egg, sitting like a slimy eyeball on an otherwise palatable roll. I studied the gelatinous goo of a yolk, which also gave off a funky odor similar to some of the more easily identifiable foot fungi, and wondered why I hadn't studied sleight of hand tricks more rigorously when I was a child.

"Stop looking at it and put it in your mouth!" Barry commanded.

I picked up the sushi roll and the egg quivered. I contemplated an accidental drop on the floor, but since there was no room to scoot my chair out away from the table it would have been hard to pull off. Well, I told myself, you can't DIE from eating a raw egg. I pictured the raw egg gone but couldn't quite visualize the disposal.

I finally did work up enough nerve to eat the egg. It slithered into my mouth much like the blob overtaking a small country, coating everything in an unspeakable slime. Death would surely follow. I fought back a choke and vowed not to throw up although Barry was such a close and convenient target.

I managed to swallow the stupid thing by drinking massive amounts of Sapporo while chewing and repeating the mantra: "This isn't really happening. You didn't really just eat a raw egg. It's just a really bad nightmare about sushi."

The egg eventually glided down my throat and into my stomach, where a short discussion ensued with my brain over whether or not the egg was going to get to stay. Due to cultural pressure the egg remained, but I have to say that I personally will never be the same.