You know what I don't like? Puke.

Puke is like the ugly fraternal twin to feces. Both make me gag violently, and both disgust me equally. As many of you know, I recently had a real life nightmare with cat feces in my bed (you saw the pics). Well, the latest gross-out event involved my two kids and my wife, which I have dubbed PUKEAPALOOZA 2015.

It starts with my wife calling me at work and saying my son, whom we call Brother, puked. Then puked again. Then again. So I come home around a few strokes before midnight, and my daughter, whom we call Alix, is on the couch complaining dramatically of stomach issues and feeling tepid. Brother is upstairs in his bed at this point, then I hear him screaming for his mommy, my wife. I go upstairs and ask what's wrong. "I puked," he says. All over his pillow, his face, his shirt. I wake my wife and we go upstairs, clean up his mess, give him a new pillow and shirt and put him back to bed. Shortly thereafter, Brother hollers again. PUKED...again. Deep sigh. I'm starting to run out of pillows here.

At this point, my daughter is complaining again, so into the bathroom we go and she hurls. She's deathly afraid of puking, worried she is going to die. I assure her, she won't die, as I've puked thousands of times (and yes, I did manage to graduate college with a respectable GPA). She'll be fine. So now I've got two pukers to contend with. I declare everyone downstairs and into the living room, including my wife. That way we are closer to the toilet when someone's stomach decides to churn and blow.

We're all four on the couch, watching Adult Swim. Brother, who just turned 4, is laughing along with me. He laughs, then nonchalantly says, I need to go puke. So into the bathroom we go, puke, puke, puke. This happens time and time again. Finally he gets to the point, where he says, pause the show, let's go puke. Between his numerous hurling sessions, my daughter throws up a few more times, with dramatic flair of course.

Many of these were used to combat the puke splatter. Photo by BK.
Many of these were used to combat the puke splatter. Photo by BK.

There are no fevers, no emergency room situations. I ask my wife, WTF is going on here? Did I come home and enter the Twilight Zone? There's more puking going on in this house right now than homecoming my senior year at Ball State. It was a long night that turned into a long morning. The big yellow dog was crying and everyone was up late until the puking subsided. At least the cats behaved normally and without issue.

The next morning, or afternoon, when I woke, the kids are running around like the regular goobers they are. They feel fine they say, no more puking. But now my wife is stricken, puking and weak. She asks me to buy her a Coke before I leave for work, as she's in a bad way. So I go and buy her a Coke and on the label it says "teammate." Cross my fingers, I've yet to come down with the pukes and shakes. I made damn sure to take my vitamins today.

And I apologize, but I have no gross puke pictures to share. I know this is a heartbreaker.



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