Diarrhea Diaries

'Twas the night before the 2nd day of driving, when all through the hotel not a creature was stirring, except for the prostitutes in the lobby. The curtains were hung by fishing line with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas Trent Wilkes soon would be there. The Sons of Robert F. Townsend were nestled with the microscopic bacteria all snug in their beds, while visions of tortillas danced in their heads. And the manager in his blood and snot stained t-shirt, and I in my cap, had just settled down for a long scary nap.

When in the next room there arose such a splatter, Mark sprang from the urine stained mattress to see what was the matter. Away to the spot where a door should be Marcos flew like a flash, tore open the spiderwebs and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen vomit, gave the lustre of old Burger Queen to objects below. When, what to his wondering eyes should appear, but a not so miniature Adam, and eight different puddles of various bodily fluids. With a little old heave, so lively and quick, Marcos knew in a moment that this dude must be sick. More rapid than eagles his courses they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;"Now! Diarrhea, now! Squirts, now! More Diarrhea, and uh oh even more turd! On! Vomit, on! Poopid, on! Chunder and Hiney Blister! To the top of the toilet! to the top of the wall! Now splash away! splash away! splash away all!" As dry heaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle they seem to spray to the sky. So out to the vans with the dysentary he flew, with underwear full of toys, and in his socks too. And then, in a twinkling, we heard in the room the prancing and pawing of even more toots. As we washed our hands, and were turning around, down to the floor St. Nicholas Trent Wilkes went with a bound. He was dressed all in dung, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with waste matter and stool. A bundle of evacuation he had flung on the floor both from the front and the back. And he looked like a regurgitator just opening his throat. His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how scary! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was as orangey red as the emittion from below. Stumped over a bucket he held tight in his hands, and the aroma it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and an ever shrinking belly, that shook, when he retched like a bowlful of dirty guacamole. Trent and Adam, one chubby and plump, the other a bit smaller, but the upchuck indistinguishable. And Marcos, Ryno, and I laughed when we saw them, in spite of ourselves. A wink of their eyes and a twist of their heads, soon gave us to know we possibly had something to dread. They spoke not a word, but went straight to the porcelain thrones and filled all the toilets as they moaned; then they turned with a jerk, and laying their hands on their mouths it began spewing from the nose. And giving a nod, up the wall they barely rose. They slank in the vehicles, to the team gave a whistle. And away we all flew down the road like a missile. But I heard them exclaim, ere we drove out of sight,"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."(At this point Adam and Trent were haluscinating and delirious and thought it was Christmas.)

Top Photo: Trent and his good friend, Mr. Bucket. Trent spent a lot of time with his head in this container. Unfortunately, there were times when he missed the mark. This man has a stream of vomit that you wouldn't believe. He once cleared our backpacks that were in between the front 2 seats from his hurling position in the seat behind them. The only damage was the projectile splattering against the dash and onto Adam's leg.

Center: Adam doing the death march in the middle of the desert somewhere in Mexico. He actually hung onto a fence post, bottomless, to let things fly. We have a much better picture that captures the deed in a classy and artistic way. We will try to get that one posted soon.

Bottom: My delight watching Adam have his way with the desert floor.