Was working at a restaurant. Kid and father come in. Kid has a hot dog (our hot dogs were not the greatest). Kid asks for a balloon. I bring both the balloon and the hot dog. Excited kid wants to be able to hold both, so the dad ties the balloon to his–the kid’s–wrist. Kid eats the hot dog and projectile vomits all over the table, the booth, the floor, and (importantly) the balloon.
Dad cuts the balloon off the kid’s wrist, takes the kid to the bathroom. While they’re doing their thing, the balloon starts drifting, dripping vomit on other tables and nearing a ceiling fan (uh oh). So I grab the balloon and say, Hey, I need to deflate this, so I also grab a fork.
Let me pause here to say that my concentration face, when doing a meticulous task, involves a slightly open mouth.
I’m a genius, so I grab the skin near the nipple of the vomit balloon between my fingers and try to puncture it with the fork to let the air out slowly. The balloon popped, spraying my agape face with hotdog vomit.




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