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Is that a tornado in the toilet?: A Story by Becky S.
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I already posted about my first PB, but I wrote this story for my husband and then decided I just had to share it here:
It was a warm and sunny day. A perfect day for eating sushi, in fact. I pulled up to the Palm Market and, braving the thunderous and tremendously annoying construction noises taking place on the street outside, I went in.
I raced to the refrigerated section, only to find it devoid of the sweet and salty ocean nectar I have come to know and love as my own personal ambrosia: sushi. So I asked the dude at the counter what the deal was and he told me it would be delivered momentarily. I stood around like a lone weirdo and pretended to look at some magazines near the front of the store. (Katie will have a silent birth! Angelina devastated as Brad leaves her alone in Paris!).
Finally, a dude comes in with a large crate. From the looks of him (Japanese) I could tell he was my man. I raced behind him, drooling and rubbing my hands together as I tried to suppress my moans of impending pleasure.
After he finished putting out the glistening and just-made jewels of tender delicious morsels, I quickly made my selection: a California roll/tuna/eel/salmon/shrimp combination.
I had no inkling of my impending doom.
Late for work, I raced to the car, almost giddy with delight. The previously mind-scrambling construction noises sounded like a symphony written just for me. Strangers smiled as if to say "have a delicious day!" and all was right with the world.
After arriving at work, I tried desperately to keep from eating (I had just eaten a bland but protein-rich Zone bar), but just one hour later I broke down and retrieved my little tray of heaven from the fridge. My first bite was transcendant; California dreamin' complete with life-giving avacado and the precious crunch of cucumber. Mmmmmmmm... I tried to eat slowly and carefully, but things were just going so well...
Right after I finished seven of eight pieces, and before embarking on the pure joy known as shrimp, it began.
Pain like a knife, a heart attack, and a fire all rolled into one sliced through my chest. My eyes started watering and I broke out in a cold sweat. "Oh shit" I thought, as I slowly got up to go to the bathroom.
I paced the bathroom praying feverishly for whatever was stuck to go down. I guess God is off today, because the horrendous pain continued for several minutes. Growing desperate, I suddenly remembered the advice of my fellow bandsters to sip on some carbonated soda to try and unstick a stuck object. Thankfully I had some Coke Zero in the fridge. I grabbed it and went back into the bathroom. I took a tiny sip.
Immediately, I felt scores of air bubbles rising into my throat. "Oh good" I thought "I'll burp and everything will be ok".
HA!
Instead of burping, I bent over the toilet, and like a cat with a hairball (or an alien performing some kind of mating ritual), I began to produce crystaline slime that dripped from my mouth into the toilet. I stayed like this for a while, as my chest felt like it was being ripped in half.
Finally, in an almost anti-climatic (but totally not anti-climatic) moment, I produced the smallest, almost imperceptible burp, and with the burp, I released very gracefully and elegantly, a giant premordial otherwordly glob of slime. As if in a movie where a ghost gets trapped in someone's body and is expunged as a whirling cloud of plasma, the blob (which was so impressive that it really should be considered its own organism) plopped into the toilet and immediately formed what looked like a tornado, with a huge base at the bottom and a vortex with a hollow center, reaching all the way to the top of the water.
I was so stunned at my ability to create such an object that I just stood there staring at it for about five minutes. It stood suspended in the water as I imagined the house from the Wizard of Oz caught up in its center.
I tried to identify the offending food, but all I saw was some swirls of diet cola, much like the dark dust that whirl up into an otherwise white twister.
Oh, and a couple particles of chewed-up rice.
So massive and unique was this byproduct of my lunch, that I actually considered rushing to grab my camera phone and taking some pictures to commemerate my first bandster upchuck.
Then I figured that that would just be over-the-top disgusting.
Regretfully, I flushed the toilet, and watched as the seemingly living cloud of mucus slid away from my vision forever.
Now, I have only my memories.
And a really sore esophogus.