The Hammer's Vomit

The Hammer woke me up early this morning. Early early. She was puking. No warning for me or anything. Puking on the carpet. As usual.

Dogs sure make a lot of noise when they heave. It is a strange noise too. I would like to spell out the noise the Hammer makes when she pukes but I am not at all sure which keys to stroke that would match up with her puking noise.

Used to be the noise of a dog puking would be enough to get me puking too. Guess I have gotten used to it. Now that only happens when I am pretty much ready to empty my stomach contents anyhow.

I let her out. Too fucking late but I let her out. Then I went back to bed. As I was climbing back beneath the sweaty sheets, just about to lay my head onto my beer drool soaked pillow, Sonja asked, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Dog puked," I told her.

"On the carpet?"

"Yes."

"I'll clean it up when I wake up."

Sonja knows better than to ask me to clean it up. Last time I tried that there was a big human puke beside the dog puke for her to clean up. Human puke does not bother me. Few things are more entertaining than watching somebody vomit. Smelling it. Guessing what the puker's last meal was.

The Hammer only pukes when her last meal is all digested. Like the pea soup puke the head spinning kid in The Exorcist spewed. If I believed any of that crazy religious shit, and I sure do not, I might just be tempted to call a priest to do his swami thing over my dog.

I think she just might be possessed by the Devil.

(I was not going to write anything today but I did not want to leave that junkie heavy metal fucker getting blown at the top of my pile of bullshit for more than a day. This is a class production.)