I can't eat, I'm sick. I feel like I have a stomach bug. Not to put too finer point on it, I’m expelling gas out both ends. Diarrhoea and farting as well as belching up gas. I don’t feel like eating. I ate some toast for breakfast, but tandoori chicken curry for lunch, or juice, or anything else, I have turned down. I even turned down tiramisu, which Charlie bought home from the upmarket restaurant in which he works.
Halfway through the afternoon, I sneezed and woke Sam up, so I went and had a hey fever table. While I was doing that, I thought he said he’d have a hey fever tablet too. When I handed it to him on the couch he just looked at me blankly. Then he asked, “What?”
“Hey fever tablet,” I said.
“How sick are you?” he asked. “I said I wanted Tiramisu.”
“Oh. Really?”
So, I got him the tiramisu. On the way over I took a taste. It tasted good, to me with my sweet tooth, even feeling as sick as I was.
Sam started eating it.
“Here, give me some more,” I asked. Being brave.
“I thought you were sick.”
“Apparently, I can fit in a taste of tiramisu.”
Sam laughed.
“I think it is a life truth, you can always fit in a mouthful of tiramisu.”
“Life according to Christian,” said Sam.
Yes, it was a mistake. The tiramisu. It didn’t make me feel great, later on. All that cream, I guess. Surprise, surprise, I hear you say.
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