I thought the water tasted odd, but I drank it anyway.
Church service was going exceptionally long yesterday, so I slunk out of the building to go get something to eat. It was noon and they still hadn’t taken up the offering yet. As I cruised down Holcomb Bridge, I saw – to my delight – that Krystal had a 4 for $2.79 deal going on. Sold! I pulled into the drive through, refused the extra value meal the operator was trying to sell me, and requested a cup of water instead.
On a normal day, the choice to have a cup of water would be a boon to one’s health. On this day, that choice nearly killed me. I took a few sips of the fetid liquid – which tasted mysteriously like expired Paracetamol – before inhaling one of the mustard slathered “burgers”. Being in a giving mood that Sabbath afternoon, I shared the remaining three with some of the teenagers who were working in the nursery. One of them turned her nose up at my donation.
“Ewww,” she croaked. “Krystals? Don’t you know Krystals will make you sick?”
“That’s no way to talk about someone’s food,” I retorted. “I don’t talk about your face like that, do I?”
Her little cohorts laughed at my reply and gobbled down the room temperature patty.
Two hours later, church finally ended and I picked up my paper cup of un-drunken water and placed it on the arm rest of my car.
“Mommy? My stomach hurts,” said Aya, eying the fast food paraphernalia, hoping for a treat.
“Do you want some of my water?”
She took long drags from the straw and left me just enough of the putrid fluid to quench my thirst. I drank the water without thought, listening to Aya babble on about Japanfest, which we had just attended the day before. By the time we pulled into the driveway at home, I felt light headed.
“Mommy? My tummy really hurts,” Aya groaned.
“Mine too baby.”
“I think I want to throw up…”
I was walking away from her as she said this. I was feeling suddenly feverish and was making a beeline for my bed. I was hot. I was cold. I was delirious. Is this what it was like to be on crack? Oooh God this doesn’t feel good!
20 minutes later, Aya actually DID throw up. Chunky brown liquid matter sprayed all over the floor. She missed the toilet by 15 feet. I tried to induce vomiting, but was only successful in releasing rapid rounds of gas. My stomach felt so sour. I was going to die at that very moment, I was sure of it. I was going to die engulfed in a cloud of my own fart. Damn you, Krystal! I cursed as I writhed about on the stained floor in pain. Damn you…
Then the world went black. Apparently, I had fallen asleep.
Poor Aya continued to vomit until nothing but bile the color of Mountain Dew came up. In a moment of lucidity, I called the Atlanta Nurse Line. They would know what to do. After suffering through the nurse grilling me about pain timelines and bodily discharge, she finally recommended that we go to the ER.
“Oh. Okay,” I whispered. I could have come up with that on my own.
“Call us back if you need anything!”
I hung up the phone and went back into a puke induced coma.
It’s Monday morning, and I’m still ill. Aya went to school, but I’m sure they’ll be calling me to pick her up in a few hours. There’s no way she’s going to make it till the end of the day if she feels like I do. There had to be brain eating amoeba in that water. She’s supposed to do a presentation about Japanfest today. How is she going to present to her class if amoeba are eating her brain?? Damn you Krystal!
I can’t say for certain that any part of this post makes sense. The only thing I am trying to convey is my new intense hate for Krystal. Did I effectively do that? If so, I’m not so far into a vegetative state as I’d supposed. A vegetative state caused by imbibing ice-cold disgusting Krystal sewer water!
Did I already damn Krystal? I can’t recall. Let me do it one more time, for posterity’s sake:
Damn you, Krystal!!!