I Threw up the Sash

'Twas the Night Before Christmas and all through my tummy,
something wasn't quite right, something felt quite funny.

Could it have been the meatballs, the potatoes, the stew?
Or maybe the turkey all covered with goo?

No, this was quite different, a terrible pain.
My efforts to fight it so far were in vain.

My sister-in-law from Alaska had been sick.
She passed it on to my in-laws and passed it on quick!

From there, it went on to my three-year-old girl.
Last week, she woke up at 2am and started to hurl.

"That must be the culprit", I said to myself.
I began looking for Tums on the medicine shelf.

I still wasn't quite right, though, and then came the chills.
Followed by a fever and the search for more pills.

Oh no! No more Tylenol! Now what will I do?
Ah, SuperMom ran to the store and got me some Ginger Ale too.

OK, the presents are out and I can head off to bed.
But this unsettling feeling lingers inside of my head.

Could this be the very sum of my fears?
You see, SuperDad hasn't thrown up in over ten years.

Well, finally I'm able to nod off to sleep.
Only to waken in big trouble...but deep!

It's midnight and off to the bathroom I rush!
I can feel my insides quickly turning to mush!

I hope I can make it. I think I might faint.
I feel like I've inhaled three days worth of paint.

I made it to the bathroom in ten seconds flat!
Now which end goes on the toilet? Thank goodness there's a mat!

Oh no, here it comes, just like my college years.
After partying with frat brothers and chugging six beers.

The noise is quite awful, I have to confess.
Like being punched in the stomach and stomped on the chest.

I'm sure I was making an unusual clatter.
Then, SuperMom came in to see what was the matter.

"Can I come in and help you?", she asked, springing from bed.
"Trust me," I said, "you don't want THIS image stuck in your head."

At last, the worst was over. I actually felt pretty good.
After all that commotion, I suppose that I should.

SuperMom passed me my toothbrush and then the Listerine...
followed by the all-purpose cleaner for the latrine.

Finally, I slipped back into bed, and into my trunks.
2007: The year Santa blew chunks.