Have you ever eaten something that’s made you sick?
I don’t mean made your tummy hurt or made you a little nauseous; I mean something that’s taken you straight down Upchuck Boulevard, hung that perilous right on Spew Street and brought you all the way to Puketown.
In my life I’ve had this misfortune befall me on three separate occasions. My poor friend Clay has had a handful of recycled McDonald’s milkshake flung at him from the backseat of his VW bug after he was kind enough to pull over at sounds of my distress. I assure you he was NOT ba-da-ba-da-dah loving it. That earned me the nickname Barfy. (again Clay my sincerest apology)
My poor wife loves Fuddruckers and you’d think that would be a perfect match as I love hamburgers of all kinds. Alas no, another well chronicled adventure of Clay and Barfy has sadly robbed her of Fuddruck’n it up at least where I’m concerned.
In both cases I’ve completely blocked these places from my mind. If I’m in the mood for a hamburger Fuddruckers doesn’t even register when mentally scrolling through my options. If I fancy a shake I have to be reminded that McDonald’s even has milkshakes. I’ve consistently maintained that I’m boycotting said establishments due to “a bad experience” but it’s more than that. It’s almost as if my brain is trying to protect me.
Still the granddaddy of them all happened when I was a child. [Warning: kids it’s about to get real] ***disclaimer***The following story contains graphic depictions of hurling, heaving, retching, tossing ones cookies and throwing up; also known as vomiting. This is not for those with a weak stomach or constitution. You have been warned.
Are you still reading? Seriously? You’re sick.
I had a sleep over at my friend Brigham’s house. We thought it would be a good idea to pool our money and go down to the Circle K and buy all the gummy products we could afford. We bought gummy bears, gummy worms, gummy rings, gummy spiders and gummy fruit in all varieties. We filled a stainless steel punch bowl with them and sat down with his brother to watch a movie while we consumed this cornucopia of gumminess.
We of course stayed up way too late messing around but finally settled in to the couches in the living room and went to sleep. I awoke suddenly in a panic immediately knowing there was nothing I could do to stop what was about to happen. I rolled off the couch in an attempt to reach the bathroom. At that moment a rainbow of regurgitated gummies came flying out of my mouth as I ran (it was like something out of The Excorcist). I eventually made it to the toilet just as the horror was subsiding. In my wake was a trail of decapitated gummy bears and masticated multicolored worms. It looked like the rainbow bridge to Asgard, only disgusting.
My friends awoke to the smell of the gummy madness that had just ensued. To their credit and to my everlasting gratitude, without complaint, they began to help me clean up this gummy tummy mess. Unfortunately the smell of gummy and gut juice triggered my sensitive gag reflex and sent me back to pray to the porcelain god once more. I don’t know how they ever recovered because I still haven’t.
It’s been more than twenty years and to this day the smell of gummy anything makes me ill. Last weekend I was offered gummy bears. As the open bag of gummy bears was extended towards me and the aroma wafted towards my nostrils I felt that old familiar feeling and suppressed the urge to Ralph. I answered him as I’ve answered so many well meaning gummy givers.
“No thanks [closed mouth urp suppression], I’ll pass.”