A Tasteless Thanksgiving, Revisited.

Yes Okay, so we're off to dinner at the SR's uncle's house today. Family dinner with all of the folks in attendance, especially her fuckin' parents. Go knows I can't stand them any more than they can stand me, Christian Coalition assholes. This whole tribe disowned her and hated my guts until our son, now age three was born. Now they've patched things with her and they tolerate me so as to assure access to their grandson. The hostess of today's turkey flesh grabfest requested that for our contribution to the meal, I should prepare the homemade cranberry sauce. Okay, so I have in the fridge, ready to go, a culinary masterpiece. My tribute to the bog berry includes a 6 ounce bottle of syrup of ipecac, lovingly stirred in to the berries as they cooled. My father in law loves cranberries, so do his brothers in law. The SR and my son don't like 'em so no problem there. 'Can't wait for the festivities to start. Somehow I actually look forward to going this year. Color commentary later tonight. If it works out with the video camera, I may have some vidcaps to share...

...time lapse 8 hours...

Yes An update to my earlier post regarding the syrup of ipecac enhanced cranberry sauce I took to thanksgiving dinner with the wife's family. Geez! Why didn't I think of this sooner? Five guests partook of the special cranberries. Three purged within 15 minutes, a fourth soon thereafter, and idiot Uncle Phil with the intestinal fortitude one would expect of a lower life form registered no effect at all.

The first to puke up the mix was my wife's cousin, twenty-six year old Angie. Drop dead gorgeous young thing. She began salivating it seems for a few minutes, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. She gave off 2 short heaves lightly pitching at the shoulders. The next thing to happen was a noise something along the order of a stifled hiccup as her hand went to her mouth. Trying to push back her chair, head tilted slightly back, a smooth flowing stream of the recently chewed meal flowed from under her hand dropping into her cleavage as it rolled off her chin. A slight gagging cough as she stood placed a blob of gelatinous goo onto her plate bearing the distinctive color of the cranberry assassin. A wad of what appeared to be stuffing plopped in the liquid and began a slow drooping sag as it blended into the other contents of the plate.

This precipitated the response from victim number two - James, the eight year old product of my wife's first marriage who resides with his maternal grandparents. He's a bit of a sissified twerp, very squeamish and the sight of flying hurl made him go 'Ooh! Ooh!' then UHH_HEEEH! as a cheek-bulging load of puke tried to fight it's way past his lips. I'll give the kid points for heart, he tried to hold it. But when the runny brown gravy liquid started to trickle out of his nose the load in his mouth expelled onto his plate. He leaned forward as another stomach convulsion hit and just lightly bobbed his face in his plate from the recoil of his gag reflex. He came up wailing with the acid taste of puke in his mouth and the sting of the slime trailing out both sides of his nose, tears in his eyes and started hollering for Granpappy.

Granpappy got up from the other table and came to guide young goofy step-son to the bathroom. Cuz Angie was in the first bathroom being assisted by her husband so James and Granpappy had to make the long haul to the other bathroom downstairs. There was few minute lull and I got to savor the success of the moment. All conversation ceased except for some quiet inquiry and speculation about what on earth could be doing this. There was sort of a collective shock and psychic trauma in the air. This was pure bliss, absolutely intoxicating to behold. Ahhh, the years I've waited for this moment of payback. My wife asked what I was smiling about. Sorry says I, just kinda taken aback by the sudden bout of illness everyone seems to be suffering. Yep honey! Just abso-fucking-lutely enchanted! The thought was driven away by the sound of rapid footsteps coming up the basement stairs.

Here comes Granpappy! ... There goes Granpappy!

Right out the side door heading for the exit from the garage! He didn't make it, and the fresh wax job on Uncle Wayne's mini-van got spoiled in the bargain. I leaned over looking out into the garage and there was Granpappy holding himself up with one arm against the side of Wayne's van going through the most impressive round of tuberculoid coughing, gagging and spitting while trails of lumpy textured mess dripped off the rocker panels of the van. Pure delight! Glad to see you in such a state of affairs Paps!

Lessee hear... It was your money that paid for the attorney fees during the child custody hearings wasn't it? made my life hell for almost two fucking years..... Have a GREAT fucking day you prick 'cause I sure am. BUWAHHAHAAAA!!!! So good to see one of such pious self righteousness reduced to his more basic elements just for consuming a few mouthfuls of cranberry sauce. The old prick combs his hair with buttered toast, white trash hillbilly style and that one strand in front had fallen and was poking him in the eye as he tried to get his breath back. Lookin' good! By now there wasn't a single bite being consumed by anyone except me. I was casually munching on a carrot stick taking in the world of wonder unfolding before my eyes. The hot, acid like stench of vomit was pretty strong and the kitchen and dining room were starting to clear out. My wife asked how in the hell I could continue to eat after what had just happened. I responded that it wasn't a problem since I wasn't eating puke. That did It! the next thing I heard was Granpappy's 86 year old mother seated behind me go "OH! Sweet merciful Jesus! Help me" I missed seeing her toss but there she was in all her glory, soaked from chin to mid-thigh with vomit, a bubble expanding from her left nostril and contracting with each breath. She began to tremble and shake, turning very pale. So, I scored a direct hit on the head matriarch of this miserable clan of self-righteous fuckwads. The fact that my wife could arise from this miscued set of genetics is surely tribute to the recessive traits that surface in various bloodlines from time to time. Wouldn't figure a little bit of puke to be such a big deal for her since she routinely shits her pants anyway. Depends dear? No, not for me. I don't like those things.

Bonus round!!! Prissy James surfaces from the basement. In all of the confusion it seems the boy pissed his pants. The sight of this little fucking Orca with piss on his pants, puke on his face and shirt and pale pure white complexion made me giggle. 8 years old at 120 sway backed, knock kneed pounds seems like he's well on his way to cardiac arrest at 16. I'm smirking openly now and the wife catches it. What could I possibly see so damn funny in all of this?? I guess if you have to ask, you wouldn't understand.

Over all the day left me feeling damn near euphoric. I had a little nap and slept off a near narcotic like stupor that set in after arriving home. It's the kind of release of energy I get when a very intense event transpires in synch with my whims. What a great day it was. I am vindicated. Now I get to go to work on what to do for Christmas Day. My snotty stuck up sister-in-law and her Jewish as he needs to be husband are coming to visit for three days with a visit to our house planned for Christmas Night.

I fucking love this one hell I remember from the original post on the EMS boards, god damn I laughed my ass off. DEMONIC YOU ARE TRULY HYSTERICAL..... PS keep up the good work!

thanks...for...sharing...