Friday, January 20, 2012

A Late Night Heart-to-Heart

*Warning, mild but tasteful profanity*

Last night I was roused from a pleasant slumber by my stomach making a fuss. Our conversation went a little something like this:

Me: *Groan* Whaaaaat?

Tummy: Well good morning Sleeping Freaking Beauty! I've been shouting at your lazy ass for the past half hour!

Me: What do you want?

Tummy: Code red, baby, we're evacuating!

Me: What? Why?

Tummy: Because of that Indian crap you stuffed me with earlier, that's why!

Me: You're not gettin' along?

Tummy: Look, I'm not racist. I hate everyone equally.

Me: Then what's the problem?

Tummy: It's stinkin' up the joint and has bad taste in music!

Me: That sounds racist to me.

Tummy: Tolerance is moot at this point! Now get to that toilet, pronto!

Me: I got a better idea, how 'bout I just go back to sleep and the two of you duke it out?

Tummy: I've given you a fair warning, don't make me do something you'll regret later.

Me: You wouldn't.

Tummy: Oh, would I?

Me: *Sigh* Fine, gimme a minute.

Tummy: Nu-uh, you got a second!

Me: I will literally shut my mouth and swallow it so you have to deal with it all over again if you do anything rash! Now give me a damned minute!

Tummy: Fine! Make it a quick one.

Me: Why couldn't you deal with this earlier? It's 4am.

Tummy: I was busy!

Me: Doing what?

Tummy: Trying to figure out what the hell I was dealing with, you've never given me something like this before!

Me: So it took you 8 hours to figure out you couldn't digest it? Weak.

Tummy: Imagine someone shoved about 50 smelly foreigners who didn't speak a word of English into your bedroom and said, "Hope ya get along, have a good night!" What would you do, eh, anthropologist?

Me: I'd...embrace them and their culture. Then in all likelihood try to throw myself out the window.

Tummy: And since I can't exactly leap outta your torso this is the next best thing, so hustle!

Me: Alright, alright. I'm going.......Oh look, my roommates fallen asleep on the couch again. With the lights on.

Tummy: What a schmuck.

Me: A crude, but accurate description.

Tummy: I try.

And that is the story of how I lost three hours of sleep last night. And why last night was the first and last time I'll ever eat Indian food. The nausea just isn't worth it.


  1. I like this. I'm sorry you're sick. Maybe this is the "D.I.E." part of "D.I.E.T."

  2. okay, by "I like this," I mean "It was well written and fun." And I'm still sorry you're sick.

    1. Yep, I definitely felt like DYING last night, but luckily my tummy and I made a pact and I was able to get some sleep eventually. I guess that's the risk one takes on a venture into international foods :)

  3. I'm just glad you didn't do what Sherlock would have done...smoked an ounce of shag and then made himself throw up.

    1. Oh don't worry. I don't think bulimia is in his repertoire, he's far too fond of himself.