The Storm

I knew the uncomfortable combination of uncertain stomachache and abnormal unexplained paranoia was not a good sign at seven o’clock in the morning. But I was dressed for church anyway.

I knew it before The Bear even called Gloria on our way to pick up Puck…

“Oh, he did?… I’m sorry…”

Yes, twice in the night, the young chap had lost his contents. Fortunately Izzy was across the hall to hear him and took care of the poor guy. By the time we arrived, I at least had an explanation for my own unusual symptoms. And I could take care of my little buddy.

It was a long… and sort of short… day…

Not so much because anything else similar to that happened again. At least not until one more… upending… for Puck at 8:30 that night. But because of the fevers and aches. So we stashed ourselves in the Silverspoon basement all day and night with the television, two leather couches, bananas, and glasses of water.

As the day progressed, Carrie succumbed [early in the morning], then Francis, and Linnea. Then Joe and Rose skipped out to Dog Town to avoid the “hurling epidemic”, as Joe labeled it. And because of all this nightmare, the really unfortunate news of the day was that we had to skip Uncle Balthasar’s. But Brit’s family was sick, too. Uncle Balthasar was taking all his family to Cancun on Thursday though, so it was a good thing we didn’t infect any of them. He also passed over another special gift to all of us when Mom dropped off Grandma Snicketts and the salads. His tri-annual $100 to each niece and nephew. Generous as always.

In the night, I dreamt of eating chocolate.