Vomit

It started a few hours after my girlfriend and I had come back from eating a fancy dinner at this new French restaurant downtown. We shared some boiled oysters and escargot with garlic breadsticks and chicken penne.

I had just prepared to kiss her goodnight when I felt my stomach churn. I tried my hardest to keep it down, but nothing stopped the yellow slime from hitting her square in the face and dripping down her neck.

"Motherfucker!!" Shelly screamed as she pulled back and was about to up-chunk herself.

"Fuck I am so sorry, are you okay?" I asked as I felt my stomach twist again. "Yeah... yeah I can wash it off," she said as she struggled to get the vomit off her face. I apologized again and stumbled to the car. It happened again on the way home, I tried to pull over to the side of the road and more of my dinner came up and cascaded all over my steering wheel.

I sat there in my car struggling to breathe for a good few minutes, wondering if the sensation would hit again.

Had to be food poisoning. I remembered thinking that the chicken wasn't all the done.

That thought changed when I made it home and my roommate came to greet me. This time I was vomiting blood. And it wasn't just a small amount.

The minute I stepped in the door I was choking up large bits of blood, and some sort of black sludge.

I looked down at the carpet where I had just spit up the slime and then realized that there was something different about it. It looked like it had a heart beat.

"What the hell?" Dean asked as he stepped away. It started to move.

"I'm sorry... I don't know," I said desperately as I felt another twist in my stomach and I ran toward the bathroom.

I stood near the toilet and let more black and purple mush pool out into the bowl. It stunk to high heaven like rotting maggots. Then I realized that was because there were maggots in the toilet.

They were writhing and screeching in the toilet, trying to wriggle their way out as I stared at the mirror and opened my mouth wide.

Blood caked the inside of my mouth and it looked like black pus was dripping out of my mouth. Something was growing in the sores that were forming in my cheeks.

I screamed and ran back to Dean. He was using a fire extinguisher on the slime that had moved into the kitchen where it seemed to be getting bigger.

It wasn't just a vat of slime anymore. It was growing what looked like limbs. Then Dean's eyes widened in horror when he saw my face.

I couldn't stop it from happening again. I vomited up a long stretch of nerve like wires that hit the floor with a plop. It was brown like feces and pulsing like a Christmas tree.

I ran from my apartment into the street. I couldn't stop the pain. I walked straight into an oncoming car just for relief.

When I woke up, Dean had taken me to the ER. We didn't talk about the apartment again because he never went back. The doctor explained that they had managed to extract at least twenty three micro organisms from my body, mostly in my mouth and throat. I would need surgery on my esophagus and likely have to have a liquid diet for a month.

They showed me samples of the small dark bacteria they had extracted from my teeth, explaining that the reason I vomited was my body was rejecting the toxic organism. Apparently hurling had saved my life.

I hadn't thought much of it since then, except for when Shelly called me last week.

She wanted a second date despite all that I had put her through.

And she wanted to go back to that French restaurant.

This time I'm ordering a salad.

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