Mmmmmm.

    Strange how people consider raw fish a delicacy, but nobody seems to like raw meat.

    You comsume the organ quickly, and wipe your hands and mouth on the front of your shirt -- the sign of a meal well-enjoyed.

    But then you feel queasy.

    And then not just queasy, but nauseous.

    Soon you are feeling downright ill, so you head upstairs to the bathroom.

    The door to the bathrom is closed, but you barge right in.

    Pam screams from the bathtub as you yank down your undies and sit on the toilet, releasing a torrent of liquidy poop-stuff.

    Simultaneously you spread your legs and hork a long steady stream of multi-colored puke between your legs.

    "Brad!" screams Pam.  "Must you always do this?!  Every single time I want to take a bath, you either have to take a shit or puke!  ...Now both?!"

    Feeling completely awful and exhausted, you slump over against the wall next to you.

    "Get out, Brad!  Go!"  Pam throws a shampoo bottle at you.

    You try to stand up, but can't support your own weight, and topple over, landing in the tub on top of Pam.

    In the midst of some awful screaming, you pass out.