I sat on the couch dandling the little boom on my lap. It was a perfect family scene. The little lady was playing a game involving Dinosaurs storming a castle and the good lady had put the coffee on in the kitchen.
I gave a big contented sigh and felt every fibre of my being relax. Everything felt just right.
The good lady came in from the kitchen carrying some lovely smelling coffee. I stretched out a hand and took my cup whilst balancing the little boom on my knee with the other hand. He made a funny little giggle noise.
I leaned forward a bit and jiggled him happily.
Did you just giggle young man? Did my little man just make his first little giggle?
He tipped his head and made another half giggle sort of noise.
Then an explosive burp. Then...
A gigantic torrent of warm cottage cheese stuff cascaded out of the sky and slopped on to my head, my beautiful face and my chest.
I gagged, I couldn't see. The smell of the ichor covering me from my head to my waist was suffocating.
What the hell?
Was the sky falling down?
I heard the muffled cry of a baby from a distance. Was that the little boom? My ears were full of this vile slop.
Help!
I tried to cry but it was as I attempted to speak I noticed that there was more of this fetid rice pudding mook in my mouth. I gagged, tried to stand but it was no use I had a coffee cup in one hand and a baby in the other.
My eyes stung. What was going on. Was I dying? Had the house fallen down?
I heard laughter through the smothering vomitous murk that caked my whole head.
Oh my God! It's a Spewnami!
Someone yipped with glee.
I rolled my head on my neck as if my strings had been cut. I gagged again. The stench of curdled udders pushing noxious fingers up my nose and through my eyes into my brain.
Help?
I tried again. Why would nobody help me? Had I already passed through the veil? Was I a spirit wandering aimlessly among those who lived? Why did being dead stink so much?
Somebody removed the weight of the little boom from my right hand. Then the coffee cup from my left.
Oh Daddy, get yourself to the bathroom and clean yourself up.
How? I can't see!!
I reached up with my newly freed hands and took my glasses off. Squinting through the mozarella soup I was caked in I got up and staggered off to the bathroom. Once there I stared aghast at the mirror.
What the actual fuck?
I was covered in baby vomit. My whole head and face and upper chest. Worse yet, a baby who had gorged himself on booby milk.
Aaargh. I was wearing curdled tit juice?!?!?
I started to clean myself up. I think I had inadvertently swallowed some of the fermented tripe and it took me several minutes to stop whimpering and washing my tongue.
Finally I was done. I hoiked my sopping wet, reeking of greasy goat stew clothes into the laundry basket and headed downstairs.
I entered the living room. The good lady and little lady looked over as I came in. As one they pointed.
You should have seen yourself!!!
I made a snumph'ing noise, entirely unimpressed by their hilarity at my misfortune.
He projectile vomited right up in the air and it all came down on your face and head!!
I glared at them.
Aye, magic. I'm so laughing.
The pair of them nudged each other and then shouted -
Daddy?
Hmmm.
Happy Spew Year!!!
Bastards.