I’m listening to Steely Dan’s Black Cow and Rhen is like, almost asleep. I’m slinging him. I can’t believe he’s sleepy. First, because it is early in the morning. Secondly, it’s Steely Dan. He truly is my child.
Then Coonhound walks over by the table where I surf the internet and pukes right under my chair. On the carpet.
It’s like high noon in Dodge. We just stare at each other. The town people gather. An old man cackles into his jug of moonshine. Coonhound Deluxeâ„¢ knows I’m gonna have to clean it up and he knows there’s a good chance it will wake Rhen.
I lean in close to Rhen. Squint and whisper in his ear, “We’re gonna make it through this. Remain groggy and continue to dig the Dan. I’ll get paper towels and a vacuum.”
Dodge City, October 2006
Oh man. I hate that.
In my youthful naivety, I actually one time vacuumed up puke after a friend got drunk and threw up in my mom’s dining room. I didn’t know what else to do, having never been in that situation before.
I haven’t heard the end of that story yet.
Heh.