I was in fourth grade, maybe third, I don't recall. I was at a birthday party at a bowling alley. The two mix like gasoline and fire. Anyway, I remember at the time I was going out with some girl Jean, I think her name was. I was probably showing off to her and running around, bowling, whatever. So at these fucking bowling birthday parties what they do is let you run around for a little while, play some video games, wrestle your friends and get all sweaty. Then they fill you up with undercooked hot dogs and hamburgers, and I mean, FILL you the FUCK UP! I was up to my fucking esophagus in undercooked meats, buns, flat sodas from the bar at the bowling alley, mustard, ketchup and probably pretzels and greasy potato chips as well. My stomach was brewing. Little did I know...

Anyway, once you're done pigging out on hot dogs and hamburgers they throw you the fuck back out on the alleys for some more bowling and horseplay. And now you're out there getting all riled up with a full stomach. This is the recipe for a major fucking problem later on. Young, sweaty, riled up and full of hot dogs.So, the party ended. Everyone went home in a sweaty film and la la la whatever.

Later that night I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling like absolute shit. I felt IT
coming.

I sat up and threw up all over myself. All over my blue comforter my grandma had sewn for me. I lay back down and just stayed there, my body warm from the fresh vomit. I just lay there thinking. It felt like that blanket thing they put on you at the dentist when you're getting x-rays. It felt warm. It felt pretty good. I was relaxed. I just lay there in the dark, covered in vomit. The moonlight shone through the venetian blinds. I did nothing. My parents were up and awake in the next room watching television. I pondered not even telling my mom and just falling asleep.

Finally, either the guilt or the stench overcame me and I called for my mom. She came in and she must've known I had been lying there covered in vomit for like 10 to 15 minutes because the stench was unbelievable. She cleaned everything up, sprayed some Lysol and I went back to bed. I remember throwing up a lot when I was a kid and I always used to apologize obsessively to my mom as she wiped the floor and my dad carried the comforter, blankets and pillow cases down to the laundry machine. I used to feel so guilty throwing up. It's weird now that I think about it. The only other time I recall throwing up was in the back seat of a police car, high on angel dust and that was fucked.

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