Its the ultimate irony being a Griswold. You attempt to enjoy life to the fullest but are plagued with continual disasters and strangely ridiculous predicaments… Yesterday the car tire blew on Mrs. Griswolds Car. Thankfully my eldest daughter Sierra who was driving was O.K. & managed to do this near home so the car is in the driveway. Later in the day, Sierra began moaning and groaning due to serious, severe stomach pains. Like any good parent I searched our medicine cabinet to find a good stomach remedy. Luck on our side, we we surprisingly discovered a bottle of “Natural” Gravol. Funny. I don’t ever remember making such a purchase? It was only after she took the recommended dosage that Sierra read the best before date…2013…She freaked. I was genuinely curious to see what would happen... In the meantime, night fall arrived & my youngest daughter Sophia spent the entire night vomiting two days worth of meals of chicken, tubetini & meatballs. By morning, my wife looked like a Romanian Gypsy scrag due to the exhaustion of staying up to help the possessed puking Sophia who looked like the child from the Exorcist. After an uneventful day of work, I raced home early to help where I could. At least Id donate my car as my wife had no wheels (literally) to use due to the tire issue. She also had to take care of my sick daughter and grand-son Jo-Jo. So I arrive home and things look the same as they did in the morning...like the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan (invasion of Normandy). This tale ends with my calling CAA. As I did so, I hear a shriek come from Kim in the kitchen. Its little Jo-Jo! Hes pant-less. Underwear-less. Only has on socks. But he has decided he wants to join the sick and involve himself in ejecting his insides out…but his inards did not come out of his mouth like his auntie Sophia…they came out of his back side. Yes. Joe sh*t diarrhea all over the kitchen floor. With a disgusted look, Kim held him not-so-close by the head & legs like he was a Thanksgiving turkey & ran upstairs to wash him. I just stood there looking at the kitchen floor thinking (and inhaling what was the stench between boiled eggs forgotten for days on the stove and a sewage plant) the car, the Gravol, the wife, the puke, the sh*t. Yep. I am still a Griswold.
Posted on: Tue, 06 Jan 2015 05:21:10 +0000
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