Pilot Butte

by Nic Olson

I just puked like seven times. Each time, the puke was projected at least ten feet, and in a trail at least twenty feet long. So that is 140 feet of puke shot a total of 70 feet away. I went to the fair.

I’ve been to a lot of fairs/carnivals before, but I have never puked. It has been a month of firsts for me. 
It seems that people often pay for the chance to puke. Whether it is a series of rides that you spin around very fast, a large amount of an alcoholic beverage, or traveling to a different country, it seems that quite often when some large amount of money is being spent, and some amount of fun is being had, it ends the same way.  Your eyes crying, your mouth watering, your esophagus shortening and an uncomfortable groan/yelp/growl/Oprah-like noise. Followed by Laura’s famous cookies, Wilf’s fresh BBQ’d burgers, and Chapman’s ice cream sandwiches ground into one smoothy-like stomach-fluidy liquid.
I am not going to say that I enjoy when my food resurfaces prematurely, (I don’t not enjoy it however. It makes me feel so cool.) but I must say that it is about the funniest thing, other than people getting a solid object in the genitals. Now imagine the laughs that would come from someone throwing up because they got hit in their pride and two joys. Based on my studying of physics and humour and their relationship with each other, this would be the funniest thing that could happen to a man. Unless it causes a reproduction defect. Then, a tragedy. (Was Romeo and Juliet a tragedy? I laughed. At how it is considered a legitimate piece of decent literature. Or maybe I laughed because I constantly imagined Romeo getting bagged and not being able to have children.)
Some people even puke on purpose, because they enjoy the waste that comes out of their mouth because they feel it makes them look better. Scientists call these people politicians.