I Once Did a Mr Creosote!

Click and Watch Mr. Creosote Make an Ass of Himself.
 

Ok, here is promised about a story of my ralphing in a restaurant.

It was another Friday in the same Friendly Tap. There wasn't a hint of anything unusual that would happen as we ate out and then off to Almacs in Seekonk to get the weekly groceries. I didn't feel the least bit sick either.

I was 10 then and my brother 15. We ate as a matter of course and nothing seemed out of place till we were about to leave. Everyone else got up from the booth but I stayed behind for about 20 seconds when everyone noticed I wasn't moving. My Dad prompted me that we were leaving and I then slid halfway across the booth when out of nowhere, I heaved all over the table.

Friday nights in the Friendly Tap are full of TGIF folks who were happy, rambunctious and ready to enjoy their weekend. It was packed that night and somewhat loud as everyone was jubilant. When I spilled my guts onto the table, the noise level in the room dropped to zero and every head turned around to see what I was doing. I wonder to this day how many appetites I managed to ruin that night.

What I saw, was this pool of thin vomit crawling to the edge of the table and dripping off, like a spilled milkshake. I sat there in a bit of a woozy state when my brother started to laugh his head off.

“AH HA HA HA HA HA! AH HA HA HA HA! DID YOU SEE THAT! AH HA HA!”

“Kenny! Stop IT!” My mother yelped at him.

I got up, sort of stunned, and in a odd moment of compassion, my Dad hung his London Fog trench coat over my head and guided me out of the restaurant with his hand on my shoulder. Once in the parking lot with the “shame coat” off of my head, my brother bust out laughing again as this was the funniest thing he saw all month.

Oddly enough, I felt totally fine after that. I had no idea just what made me puke. Perhaps Friendly Tap's shitty cooking that night? Anyway, I was good to go about 20 minutes later.

Now that I was feeling fine, we didn't abandon our trip to Almacs. On the way, my brother kept teasing me about it all, finding any and all jokes he could barb me with. I sat there defending myself as well as I could and in some sense, getting my balls busted by my brother was more of a sting than puking and having 60 patrons witness it.

My Dad, trying to quell the kids in the back seat finally said,

“Alright Ken, enough's enough...leave him alone.”

I sat diagonally from my Dad who was driving and when he said that and I noticed he was trying to stifle a giggle himself.

I'm not sure if we went back the next Friday. I'm guessing we took a week off to let the story die down so I could return w/o everyone pointing.

Yes. Now that I look back on it, it was funny as hell.