My father is a relatively bright individual, but sometimes, he exudes the intellect of a toddler. He is always capable of making me laugh, even in the most horrific of situations.
Most recently, he was to come up for dinner, but couldn't make it...uh, due to the "Creeping Crud." Here are the events as follows:
Monday afternoon, he leaves a voicemail on my cell:
"Hey, I'm not going to be able to make it up there tonight. I've still [laughing] got this crap blasting out of my butt. I mean, Jesus...I'm not sure when it's going to stop, but I'm eating crackers. So, I'll be up for dinner just as soon as the tidal waves subside...or I can figure out how to plug this up, you know, maybe with a plug..." [he hangs up laughing].
I proceed to play this voicemail for a coworker. We get a great chuckle out of this. Classic Dad.
He calls me back a week later. "So, I thought I was doing pretty good. I hadn't eaten for days, and I decided to eat a grilled cheese sandwich." [at which point, I think to myself, WTF? Greasy grilled cheese after you've had the shitz for almost two weeks straight...and then I remember, that's one of the only things he can cook for himself.]
"That stayed in my butt pretty well. [Jesus, Dad...are you eating the sandwich, or did you use THAT to plug your poop shoot up with?]. So, then, yesterday I went to your brother's step-daughter's baby's birthday party - you know that kid, right? [Duh...] And I eat two slices of pizza while I'm there. Man, [laughing again] I didn't quite make it home. I've crapped myself more than once. This shit is really vile."
Silence on my end greets my father. "You there?"
"Yeah, Dad, I'm here. I just have no words to say to that. Did the pizza have pepperoni?"
"Of course!"
OMG. Who does that? You've had Montezuma's Revenge for over 10 days and you decide to eat a grilled cheese with a two slice pepperoni pizza chaser? Wow. Not even my kids would make a decision that poorly thought out.
He ends the call by telling me once more he thinks that he has to go to the doctor's as, "my blood sugar's way up, b/c I keep crapping out my medicine." Holy Toledo. He laughs some more. And promises to be up just as soon as he can make the drive without having a total explosion...
Thanks, Dad. Thanks.
