‘Things’ Are Going To Get Messy

(I have just gotten my wisdom teeth out. The dentist has warned my father that I’ll be pretty loopy until the anaesthesia wears off. He helps me up the stairs to my bedroom.)

Dad: “How are you feeling, honey?”

Me: “Great! Yesh – wai-… no… I hafta…um…thing.”

Dad: “Thing?”

Me: “Thing… with the…”

(Without any other warning, I lean forward and vomit up the blood I swallowed during the operation, onto my dad’s feet.)

Dad: “Oh… thing.”

Me: “…sorreeeee.”