It was a hot lazy afternoon in late August and Sparky and I decided we could definitely go for a nice cold beer. We were downtown and we decided to check out the corner tavern. It looked dark, appealing and air-conditioned. We stepped in, stood at one end of the long bar and ordered ourselves a couple of pints. It was early and there weren't many people there, just right for relaxing. Patsy Cline crooned out of the jukebox and a little group of what had to be "regulars" were sitting across from us, talking and laughing. The bartender was a friendly sort, joining in the conversation, telling jokes. We were quite content.

"How about those Yankees?" inquired one very tall fellow, who appeared to be a construction worker. It was the usual chatter one would expect to hear at a neighborhood bar like this. Suddenly the door banged open and in walked three very corporate types, two males and a female. They weren't very attractive people; the woman was beady-eyed with short-cropped hair and a sort of terse look on her face. And the men. One was a young guy, the junior executive type. The other seemed to be the "boss"-- he was bald-headed and fat and did most of the talking. Too much talking.

All of the regulars turned to survey them, the way people in bars always do. And suddenly the whole atmosphere changed. They sat down noisily and the boisterous boss hollered, "Yo! BAH-TEN-DAH!! We need some beers here!" The ugly woman smiled nervously and when she did she looked like she belonged in a toothpaste commercial. The nice bartender sighed and slowly walked up to them, trying to be pleasant, "I'm right here, you don't have to shout," and smiled. The boisterous boss retorted, "Yeah, OK pal, you got your job, I got mine. Guess you don't get very stressed out at this place." There was an audible groan from the regulars. "Just give us three pints, OK, and some of them, y'know, chicken wings. You take American Express, right?" The bartended said, "Yeah, yeah, we'll take it. Gold or platinum?" Boisterous Boss didn't appear to like that.

Me an' Sparky were gettin' a little buzzed and feeling good, so we hung out and played some jukebox favorites. That particular day I think we were doing kind of a Johnny Cash thing. Time wore on, a few more people came in and eventually these distasteful people were quite drunk. Talking "merger" this and "big buy-out" that, the usual crap from these types. Non-stop work-related garbage.

Then something REALLY WEIRD happened. I'll never forget it. Boisterous Boss, with some degree of apparent urgency, came sidling in amidst the regulars, badly in need of another beer. He had his cell phone out, clutched in his fat clammy hands and was yelling over it at some poor soul. "BAH-TEN-DAH!!! C'mon man, gimme a fresh pint!!" He was kind of shaking and quakin', shuffling his feet like he was on cocaine or something. Sparky and I whispered something about that being a possibility. Sitting right next to where he was standing was this skinny, malnourished little guy. He was one of the regulars, but he looked more like their adopted orphan or something. We hadn't noticed him until now. Suddenly this boy groaned very loudly, "Uuuu-uuu-nnnnn," and made this awful face. His hand went to his mouth and all eyes were on him. And he went, "Brrrrllllpppp-ffftttt!!!" as a torrent of nasty projectile vomit came shooting from his mouth, all over the bar, all over the place. Everyone FROZE. Mouths were hanging open. Boisterous Boss made a hideous face that I will never forget, baring his teeth like an animal, recoiling in disgust, looking down at the sleeve of his jacket that was now splattered with the icky, steamy stuff. Orphan boy moaned, "Ooooohhhh Goooodddd," and went racing for the bathroom. Boisterous Boss was about to have a seizure, when at that very moment the tall construction worker walked up to him and told him very calmly, "Y'know buddy, it's really your fault. If you'd stayed down on your end where you belonged, this probably wouldn't have happened." Boisterous Boss looked up at him wild-eyed, his mouth open, going, "Wha--wha...?" The tall man continued, "You see, that's Vomit Boy. He's psychic, verrrry sensitive, y'know? Anytime certain people are around him he vomits. That's what he does. He can't really help himself. Must be something very WRONG with you, pal." The tall man walked away. Boisterous Boss suddenly began screaming, "JESUS CHRIST! JESUS CHRIST! JESUS CHRIST!!!" He turned and walked, almost running, out of the place, slamming the door violently. His two cohorts looked up in shock and followed him quickly out the door. Junior threw money on the bar, LOTS of money, before they fled. All of the waitresses were laughing, "Hahahahahaha! Way to go Vomit Boy!!! Hahahahaha!!!" The pleasant bartender walked over and picked up the cash. "Yeah, that'll about cover it, I guess," he said smiling. The regulars laughed heartily. "Way to go, Vomit Boy!!"

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