by Nathan Stout
So Chris pulls up to the house last evening (about 6ish) and gets out of the car. Before he goes into the house for our weekly Thursby Meading I tell him I need him to help me with a couple of things. I see this gunk on his black shirt (when is it even NOT black) and point and kinda scratch at it. I made this joke. “What’s that? Are you trying to re-enact that scene from Season 2 where you use your shirt to clean up some spooge?”
Chris looks down somewhat perplexed.
“Uh… No. It’s vomit.” My index finger hanging in mid point (and scratch)
Chris was driving to my place (which is like 30 to 40 minutes) and while he was on the road (and not feeling too well) he got some phlegm in his throat that he couldn’t shift. His body (feeling the need to shift it) made him puke a little bit. It then (unknown to him) got on his shirt.
That was really gross but we have gotten more mileage out of that little bit of vomit than almost anything else we talked about that day.