Fire Down Below
June 04, 2003 - 3:18 p.m.
Imagine if you will, waking up at 4 in the morning. Now, imagine waking up at 4am with what feels like a rumbling in your stomach slight burning, tingling feeling in your throat a red hot poker shoved down your esophagus and being jabbed all around because it is an evil, vile instrument of doom meant to seperate you from whatever comfort you had acheived during your blissful rest.
That is what I woke up to.
I sat up, clutching my chest, exclaiming a raspy "Holy Hell!". This falls under the 'bad idea' category. By doing so, I sent the tide of displaced stomach acid cascading onto virgin flesh down the length of my now very displeased food tube. My mouth dropping at the sensation cried out for but one thing- liquid.
I reach for my trusty bed-time drink, which tends to range from water to apple juice to milk. This day, however, it was orange juice. As I gulped, I envisioned the battle raging between Acid and OJ going like something out of a bad cartoon, wherein the two opposing beams of energy meet (99% of the time it was red against blue), and straining against one another until, eventually, one weakens and is blasted into oblivion.
Perhaps it has already struck you that I had made a tragic mistake, but in my defense I was not fully awake. As rational thought began to return, it donned on my that I done a very stupid thing. In my attempt to quell the Stomach Acid, I had indeed imbibed not only Citric Acid, but Warm Citric Acid.
Suddenly, I became aware that Acid had stopped fighting Acid, and both had begun to eat away my insides. I yelped, and ran like a little girl down the stairs to the kitchen where I drank about 6 cows worth of milk. I felt the smoke and steam escaping from my nose, eyes, and ears (my mouth was too busy suckling from the surrogate cow udder). I collapsed back in bed in the fetal position, praying for either Sleep or Death to take me away. Luckily, Sleep got their first, but as I understand it, she kicked Death square in the balls in order to edge out the win. She is a crafty one.
It is now almost 12 hours later, and my chest is still burning, as I am sure it will for the next day or so. The moral of the story is that if you wake up with your own version of the Fiery Red Hot Poker of Doom, Stop, Think, then Drink.
Good advide all the way around, really.
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The Best Joke in the World - October 22, 2003
Oh! We have company! - June 06, 2003
Fire Down Below - June 04, 2003
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