I’m gonna call this story “Puke & Panties”.
Abby and Emma have headed to Oklahoma for a few days. So Nan, Pops, April, Gracee and I went to have a late lunch at Tuscan Slice.
Gracee can’t get more than 2′ away from her Nan, so she was sitting between my mom and dad. Mom was eating a salad, and she gave Gracee a bite.
Gracee routinely got choked on a piece of lettuce and then puked all over the place. All over Nan. All over Pops. All over the booth. And all over herself. It set a pretty interesting pace for the rest of our lunch.
Even over the delicious taste and smells of the Italian lunches that each of us received, the unpleasant stench of puke continued to make it’s presence every so often. And the smell of a fresh ralph kinda/sorta makes me wanna die. Like seriously. So I just kind of only breathed out of my mouth like a Neanderthal for the rest of our visit so I wouldn’t errrp my cannelloni right back up on the table.
Once lunch was complete, we paid and then began to gather our things to leave. Because Gracee smelled like me on New Years morning of 2004 (not good), I made Pops carry her out. Hey…he already smelled like puke. No need to make me stink too.
As I stood up to leave, I felt an odd tickle on my ankle. I looked down to find something….odd. A piece of red lace hanging from the opening of my pants leg. Confused, I reach down and gently pull a lacy, sexy pair of red panties out of the leg of my jeans. April looks at me with a curious look, and then hisses at me, “those are my panties!!!”
I swear to god, you guys….I haven’t been wearing April’s panties. I have no idea how they got in my pants. But I do know that the waitress that watched me pull them out of my britches enjoyed herself. Very much.
Nothing to see here, folks. Just a normal ol’ run of the mill lunch in the Stamper household.