I am in Midland. Texas. Daddy picked me up promptly at the airport and didn’t want to go home, so we went to Sam’s Club to buy … some random things. 18 bottles of wine. At 1000h in the morning. Some things never change.
Stepmother Shirley told me a hospital story from last night once she woke up.
There was a man who was treated with charcoal for whatever reason, and tied down. What he was doing was screaming and growling in English, German, and an unidentifed third language, about how Satan was coming and might in fact already be in him. Also his left foot was twitching in the straps. Also he was spraying charcoal out of his mouth while screaming, and the nurses were holding up wet towels in front of them so they wouldn’t get sprayed. Also the charcoal was running out of his foamy mouth.
Not funny exactly, but pretty awesome nonetheless, because a man screaming in multiple languages with black shit flying out of his mouth and pretty convinced he is possessed, is interesting. Nothing like that happens at my job but I think I would be pretty impressed if it did.
Shirley knows exactly which hospital stories to tell me: nothing involving feet, vomiting or the digestive system, or anything stuck up anything else unless it’s highly implausible. She tends to focus on the possessed, whom she believes to be, and I quote, “full of shit.”
Daddy said Shirley came home late the other night from work and my brother David (will be 20 in September, is like 6′ 5″ and weighs around 260#), my sister Jenny (who’s also 19 and is like a less flappable Martha Stewart with more style and better fashion sense), her boyfriend Nick (not that interesting but getting cooler) and their friend Ben (Ryan Atwood to Jenny’s Seth Cohen) were watching the last five minutes of Radio and all of them were crying their eyes out. She referred to it as “unnerving.”
When we got home my brother Lyle showed me his new Dance Dance Revolution mats first thing, which are wireless. Awesome. I challenged him but I was feeling tummyrumblings after the flight and the hangover so I told him everybody knows you have to wait at least an hour after breakfast before the Revolution can begin.
I am going to kick his fourteen year old ass.