08:30 hrs
I was always wondering when it would happen and I always wondered if I would be a witness. If I was a witness I knew that I would just have to laugh especially since I had been there myself.
Two nights ago our Sr. Couch Monkey and a friend went out to a local watering hole. My Better Half advised him to maintain social distancing because the Beer Flu is still a potential threat to life and limb. Not a problem he says. And if you need a ride home just call. Thanks, we're gonna walk there but I'll call if we need a ride. Be safe. We will.
And, off they go.
Now, I was working evenings and they were all home at the Wayward Inn by the time I got home. In the morning my Lobster went off to the salt mines and I lounged in bed until 06:45 hrs when I got up to make coffee. About twenty minutes later the Sr. Loin Fruit wanders downstairs dressed in his house coat. He's rumpled and has a head like a ten pound Smartie.
How was your evening?
Pretty good. How was yours?
Boring. Is your friend still here?
Yeah, she's upstairs.
Okay. What did you drink last night?
I had two beers and a whiskey sour.
Okay.
And with that he wandered back upstairs to his cave. Eight o'clock rolls by and the Oma-nator comes out of the Princess Suite. We were sitting across from each other at the dining room table having breakfast when the Sr. Loin Fruit suddenly barrels down the stairs. His robe streaming behind him like a superhero's cape. The cape was shucked off as he knelt before the throne. But his timing was off and he didn't get the seat raised in time. At least not for the first hurl.
What was that? asked the Oma-nator. The action had occurred behind her. She couldn't see it but she could hear it.
That was the Sr. Couch Monkey. He's sick. I said with a grin.
In fact, he was very sick several times over the course next ten minutes. Which was followed by a large glass of water and the bucket of cleaning supplies. There's nothing like cleaning your own reverse peristalsis to clear your head.
It was a good personal lesson for him to learn. And I'm sure he's going to learn it several times more. Maybe it was the mixing of alcohol types or maybe he was drinking on an empty stomach. Who knows. Everyone has their own tipping point. As for myself I will neither confirm nor deny that I have made a collect call from the Great White Telephone on four different continents. For some of us lessons are harder to learn and some of you know better than to ask foolish questions.