Okay, so in this case it’s a little bit old news, but seeing as Annoying Little Brother has been engaging in amateur reverse peristalsis for distance this evening, a promising finding in the gross-as-heck field of norovirus research:
Up until now, we have had to use other methods to study norovirus, such as molecular techniques like RT-qPCR, electron microscopy, human volunteer studies, and…
Hold up right there. I want to know how much somebody gets paid to fill up their innards with norovirus on purpose. Annoying Little Brother wants to know if he can volunteer for the study retroactively.
I wrote this five years ago and it seemed to go over well enough with all nine people who read it at the time, so maybe it may find a wider audience and even reach double digit readership. Here comes five minutes of your life you’ll never get back.
And Daddy Who hoped in the fridge would at least Be a cutlet or two of leftover roast beast But the kitchen was strewn with flattened floofloovers And trampled tartookas, whohoopers, gardookas The Grinch was passed out in a heap on the floor With ten empty bottles of Who-brew, or more “I wager his liver grew three sizes, too” Said Daddy Who, wondering just what he would do To quiet the grumbling noise in his tummy When the Grinch had inhaled every single thing yummy Thus, Daddy Who went and MacGyvered a meal Of leftover ramen, corn chips, and an eel No time for the bizilbigs, floof or pantookas, For Monday meant work with his fellow palookas “So go get some sleep, my sweet yutz” said the missus “But your eel-breath means I’ll skip holiday kisses” So long, Christmas So long, beer So long relatives, far and near But Christmas stays within our grip Although there’s no more onion dip Christmas spirit still applies Especially when mom makes pies Stay heart to heart and hand in hand When Christmas doesn’t go as planned.
You can do your homework and your chores and not give Mom an attitude about the slightest bit of it, or you can go to school on Tuesday knowing that all your classmates who stopped by to trick-or-treat got toothbrushes and pencils.
The thing about having an inquisitive 10-year-old like Annoying Little Brother is that the inquisitive 10-year-old has no boundaries as to the timing of whatever has piqued his curiosity; furthermore, his cross-examination technique is relentless, and the usual parental bobs, weaves, laying-down-of-the-law and attempts to change the subject – they do nothing. Which leads to sotto voce exchanges like this one from earlier today in the front pew:
A.L.B.: “Is it really the actual Body of Christ?”
Me: “I’ll tell you later.”
“I’m eating it so I want to know.”
“It hasn’t hurt you yet, has it?”
“No, but I want to know.”
“But Communion is in five minutes and I’m going first. I’m nervous.”
“You chose the pew, kid.”
“So tell me.”
“Well, um, did they cover this part yet in CCD?”
“Is it His skin?”
“The Church really isn’t specific about…”
“So it’s, like, his blood and guts?”
(sigh) “It’s way more complicated than that.”
“Communion doesn’t taste like anything.”
“It’s not supposed to. What did you want, nacho-flavored?”
That actually got him thinking – but if you thought the process of going up for Communion would move him along to something else, perhaps saying prayers for his grandparents and mom and dad and the cats and his friend with the broken wrist and maybe even Annoying Big Sister…no.
(looks up at the Cross) “No wonder He’s so skinny.”