Not long after moving into our brand new little house on Aster Street, Virginia and I discovered the wonderful taste of fresh buttered artichokes. She had carefully cooked them and melted real butter to dip the leaves into before eating. They were delicious. She and I were having a real party, carefully removing each leaf and dipping them into the melted butter and eating heartily. We enjoyed each morsel of several artichokes for supper that night.
Soon after we retired, I noticed a strange feeling in my stomach, which seemed to get worse the longer I laid in bed. Then it suddenly developed into an emergency situation and I sprang out of bed and headed for the bathroom. I had waited too long! These slightly digested, well-buttered artichokes came up and almost completely covered the floor and the walls of the hall to the bathroom.
Almost directly behind me in the hall Virginia followed with the same problem I had. She covered the remainder of the hall with her slightly used artichokes: so much so that we both slipped and fell onto the slick floor surface amid all the melted butter and other unidentifiable matter.
Oh, boy. What a "clean-up" party we had after that.
Soon after we retired, I noticed a strange feeling in my stomach, which seemed to get worse the longer I laid in bed. Then it suddenly developed into an emergency situation and I sprang out of bed and headed for the bathroom. I had waited too long! These slightly digested, well-buttered artichokes came up and almost completely covered the floor and the walls of the hall to the bathroom.
Almost directly behind me in the hall Virginia followed with the same problem I had. She covered the remainder of the hall with her slightly used artichokes: so much so that we both slipped and fell onto the slick floor surface amid all the melted butter and other unidentifiable matter.
Oh, boy. What a "clean-up" party we had after that.
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