The Search for Pepto-Bismol (Quickly!)

When I started my great successful writing career here at Suite101 two years ago, my wise and insightful manager, Brian Hughes (Freeware) told me to always have a number of articles in reserve, just in case anything should happen. For two years now I have ignored his words in exchange for my own need to explode with a sudden burst of brilliance as my creative gears grind and smoke from the pressure that I apply to them. At the final second, I finish with a click to "submit your article". OK, so actually I am a hopeless procrastinator and always put off what I could have completed earlier in the week.

It was this week that I learned my lesson. It started on a Saturday afternoon. My wife and I were out enjoying the beautiful weather we're having here in the mountains of North Carolina. We had just finished walking through the quaint town of Hendersonville, when we decided that a milk shake would do just fine. We headed over to the local hamburger and milk shake joint, knowing that they had the best ice cream, as well as great prices. We got our cups and sat outside with the breeze blowing through our hair. Yet I blame the wind for the state I am presently in. For this same wind that brought refreshment to us, also brought the smell of a delicious, grill-cooked hamburger. I can't say that I was weak with starvation; I can't even say I was hungry. It just seemed that a hamburger that smelled this good would taste even better, especially with my black cherry milk shake. I ordered the burger and divided it with Joyce. She took one bite and said it didn't taste right. I said, "Oh, it's just like meatloaf." That should have been my first clue that something was wrong. I don't even like meatloaf!

As soon as I finished my last bite, my stomach told me that I had made a mistake. Quickly, the same breeze that brought me the fragrance of the perfect combination to my milk shake dowsed me with the same smell, but this time it was making me sick. We got home as quickly as possible. After a trip to "the reading room" and then a quick nap, I felt a better. We went about the rest of the day and everything was fine.

The next morning was when tragedy struck. I won't go into details but I can't remember the last time that I was so violently ill. The toilet and I became close friends. I was so sick that I could not look at TV, read a magazine or worst of all, gaze upon the computer. My article was due that night. It was not going to get finished. If only I had listened to Brian!

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