WARNING: This blog is not for the queasy or the puke-a-phobic. I’ll admit, I even got a little nauseated while writing it. But if you can get past the gross chunky parts, you will find a funny story worthy of sharing. Because sharing is caring. And I really care.
Hardly anything warms the cockles of the Dickman’s heart like a big, thick, steaming bowl of homemade chili.
So, you can just imagine how excited he was to be chosen to judge the annual Chili Cook-Off at his office. A plethora of chili – just waiting to be sampled. He and the other judges spent forty-five minutes tasting twenty different pots of homemade chili. Finally, it was up to Dickie to cast the deciding vote between two equally tasty bowls. In a valiant effort to remain fair and unbiased, he kept going back and forth between the two bowls of chili...tasting them over and over AND over...before deciding upon a winner.
After turning in his judge’s hat, Dickie suddenly realized he had spent so much time selecting the perfect chili that he was now running late for his dental appointment. He rushed out to his car and into the traffic like a chili-bloated ninja on a mission.
When he arrived, he was disappointed to find that Renay (his favorite dental assistant), happened to be out of the office. Renay’s replacement came in, introduced herself, and began preparing a mold to take impressions of Dickie’s mouth.
Hardly anything warms the cockles of the Dickman’s heart like a big, thick, steaming bowl of homemade chili.
So, you can just imagine how excited he was to be chosen to judge the annual Chili Cook-Off at his office. A plethora of chili – just waiting to be sampled. He and the other judges spent forty-five minutes tasting twenty different pots of homemade chili. Finally, it was up to Dickie to cast the deciding vote between two equally tasty bowls. In a valiant effort to remain fair and unbiased, he kept going back and forth between the two bowls of chili...tasting them over and over AND over...before deciding upon a winner.
After turning in his judge’s hat, Dickie suddenly realized he had spent so much time selecting the perfect chili that he was now running late for his dental appointment. He rushed out to his car and into the traffic like a chili-bloated ninja on a mission.
When he arrived, he was disappointed to find that Renay (his favorite dental assistant), happened to be out of the office. Renay’s replacement came in, introduced herself, and began preparing a mold to take impressions of Dickie’s mouth.
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[At this point in the story I should pause to insert some pertinent vomiting history regarding the Dickman. As far back as anyone remembers, he has always had a wussy stomach and a hair-trigger gag reflex. So much so that in high school, Dickie’s football nickname was ‘Water Boy’. His pre-game hurling became such an integral part of the team ritual that some players feared bad luck if Dickie didn’t produce. All the players knew it was time to begin countdown for kickoff whenever they heard the comforting sounds of Dickie’s “BLLLLLLEEEEEECCCCCCCKK!” coming from the opposing team’s sideline (his favorite place to hurl). On one of the rare occasions that Dickie refrained from puking prior to kick-off, he ended up puking ON the kickoff. Literally. During the playback of that week’s game, the coaches could barely watch as Dickie held the ball for Mike Wilson to kick. They saw the exact moment Dickie’s shoulders hunched over the ball, just seconds before Big Mike’s toe connected with the pigskin and sent it hurtling through the air...streams of Dickie’s bodily fluid flying off in all directions.]
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In all fairness to the Dickman, he did try to warn the unsuspecting dental assistant. “I have a really bad gag reflex and Renay always puts salt on the end of my tongue to keep me from puking.”
“Eh, we don’t need no stinking salt”, said the unwitting assistant. “This will only take a second”.
According to the Dickman, pre-vomit warning signs are rendered useless when your mouth is crammed full of dental appliances filled with goop. And no added salt.
In all fairness to the Dickman, he did try to warn the unsuspecting dental assistant. “I have a really bad gag reflex and Renay always puts salt on the end of my tongue to keep me from puking.”
“Eh, we don’t need no stinking salt”, said the unwitting assistant. “This will only take a second”.
According to the Dickman, pre-vomit warning signs are rendered useless when your mouth is crammed full of dental appliances filled with goop. And no added salt.
"Brrrrllllpppp-ffftttt!!!" His body gave one huge shudder before chunks of prize-winning chili were projectiled all over the examining room. All. Over. It was a virtual Vesuvius of Vomiticus of Epic Proportions. Covering every sanitized surface in sight, even extending a good four feet out onto the wall.
The dental assistant squealed, then recoiled in disgust, then quickly executed a perfect pirouette and ran out of the room...leaving Dickie alone with his handiwork.
The dental assistant squealed, then recoiled in disgust, then quickly executed a perfect pirouette and ran out of the room...leaving Dickie alone with his handiwork.
About the time Dickie had managed to get the – now goopier – dental mold out of his mouth, the dental assistant reappeared, covered from head to toe in a green HazMat suit, complete with helmet and face shield. She carefully planted herself out of the line of fire and supervised as Dickie alternately mopped and gagged, cleaning chili off the chair, off the counter, off the dental instruments, off the lights, off the wall and even a few splatters that found their way out into the hall.
Hearing all the commotion, the dentist stuck his head around the corner. Incredulous eyes popped out of his head as he took in the tornado of vomit. Struggling to maintain a semblance of professionalism, he quietly told the OSHA–compliant dental assistant to give Dickie a few minutes before trying to take another impression. Then helpfully suggested that this time she might try putting a little salt on the end of his tongue.
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So...neighbor. I don’t know how long it has been since you’ve had a big, thick steaming bowl of chili, but I have a feeling it’s gonna be awhile around here.
