Let’s rewind real quick to before Ellison arrived in this excerpt from an early installment of the Byford Files:
3 Fear of the White Foamy Milky Stuff That Flies Out of Their Mouths
Now, I pride myself on my tough stomach. My job growing up was to scoop all the dog turds up out of the backyard. Yeah, glorious occupation. I came across all kinda turds. Thick ones that could break windows after they dried up in the West Texas heat, chocolate yogurt, hairy turds and then the turds that looked like some varmint died in the lawn. I’ve cleaned them all up…every last one of them. I left a clean yard with no so much as a solitary dry heave. I’ve ingested some pretty tough stuff. I even one time inadvertently tasted urine. Long story. Well, not really long as much as that the details of the story won’t help my case much. You had to be there, but probably are glad you weren’t. I didn’t even throw up after that. When I see that white stuff come flying out of a baby’s mouth, I nearly lose it every time. What’s probably worse than the substance itself being strewn across your shirt is that you have absolutely no clue when it’s gonna happen. It just flies out.
I’m reminded one Thursday when we did an inshore with the one Ice Cube in Albuquerque and the line was wrapped around the store what seemed to be twenty times. While we’re awaiting Mr. Jackson to arrive, I head into the bathroom and when I walk in, there’s a dude with his shirt in the sink and a little boy sitting on the counter next to him as he frantically scrubbed the garment in the sink moaning, “No. No. No. No. No. No!” I ask if everything was alright and he told me that his boy puked on him while he was near the front of the line to meet Ice Cube and he had to leave his place in line to go to the bathroom to clean the vomit off of his shirt. While he was telling me, I’m almost spewed like Lard Ass from Stand By Me. Dude probably never met Ice Cube that day. And it’s the kid’s fault. I mean, it’s alright to blame the kid there right? Or is it not only disgusting and unpredictable, but consequence-less too? Maybe so.
Well, it happened. We had our first spew. It happened when I was at church last night. I come home to my lovely wife half smiling, half scowling. She’s a good sport. You can’t keep her down. She told me how, without warning, she “became a mother tonight” with baptism my bile. Yep, soaked her “to the bra.”
Well, we made it over four months without getting (having) to enjoy this little gem of parenthood. And it finally struck. Love my lovely wife. She’s a champ. Takes vomit hurdling toward her in stride. Had it been me, there might’ve been the Stand By Me chain reaction*. But then again, I stared death in the eyes yesterday morning with the most ferocious diaper man has ever seen. My stomach’s gone through some transformation. I might be able to tolerate it. But still I’m glad it was her and not me. Love you, baby.
*Apparently, shortly after the incident, Tucker the Youngest Beagle came in doing the arched back dry heave like he was about to join in the fun according to my lovely wife’s account. That would’ve made it the most awesome and most horrible chain of events ever.