@ERRATICCOMPENDIUM’s response reminded me…
For a while in seventh grade my more normal friends were blended with my very strange goth and emo friends; I sometimes acted as their twisted ringleader.
It was Thanksgiving lunch day in the cafeteria… some of us brought lunch packed by our parents and some of us ate the food served by the school. I had the brilliant idea to mix a piece of each item from everyone’s lunch in one of my sandwich bags. So there was a piece of my Nutella and peanut butter sandwich, a chip and whatever else was in my lunch; bits from other packed lunches; and an item from each Thanksgiving dish—a piece of turkey, a glob of gravy, a dollop of mashed potatoes, a couple of chunks of stuffing, etc.
I smashed it up in the bag into a semi-homogeneous paste and insisted that we all smell it. It went around the table to a couple of us who evidently had nostrils of steel. When it got to one friend (who happened to have the same name as me), just a whiff of the bag’s contents made her puke, and the puke accidentally got into the bag.
I told everyone they had to smell it again.
This set off a chain reaction of vomiting from several other people. Our very tall vice principal was not happy with me but he also didn’t seem to be surprised—I terrorized him often, as i had a huge crush on his very short son and hoped he would someday be my father in law. Sawdust was everywhere. I am very sorry to my school janitorial staff but it was beautiful… despite the gastric upset some of us were experiencing, we were all laughing hysterically. Thereafter, we referred to it fondly, simply as “the bag”