Must… Not… Give In… To… The PAIN!

Last night HoBiscuit and I went out to eat with some friends. We went to a restaurant we’ve never been to before, a restaurant that everyone but me has been wanting to go to for a while. The kind of place that’s more about the scene, and being seen, than it is about the food.

I ordered the crab cake appetizer and shell steak entree.

This morning I woke to find that after paying the stated menu price of the food we ate last night, I’m still paying for it this morning. In sweat, tears and intensely painful spasms of gastrointestinal convulsions, my body is being forced to pay a tax on every bite that I took of that horrid, horrid food and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll survive.

Oh, man. My lower intestines just fired another warning shot across my colon’s bow.

Things are happening inside my stomach right now that would cause a goat to send me a Hallmark card of sympathy. Disease-ridden New York City giant rats are stopping by the apartment to find out if I’m carrying the plague, only to leave shaking their little heads and saying, “Stupid Geek. Even I wouldn’t have eaten that.”

The representatives of my local chapter of the Bugmob are just laughing.

I don’t know if I’ll be alive on Monday, so if you don’t hear from me by then you’ll know why. Send well wishes, notes of sympathy and donations to the “Get HoBiscuit A Real Man Fund” to

(The soon to be) Widow HoBiscuit

C/O Asses to Ashes Funeral Parlor

666 El Stupido Street

New York, NY 12345

Oh, god. I may never eat again.

5 Comments

  1. Death is the composite karma of many life times of denial.

    Yet, where love and truth touch is your doorway to physical eternity; today you were called to step through that door.

    All 6,342,845,911 of you.

    Come home, I need you NOW.

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