After my recent Taco Eating Contest, it became clear that Tim was not feeling well, and after a little while he began to gag. It was his own fault. He got a Coffee Malt afterwards.

I started my bad deed, by loudly asking him if he wanted to add three tacos to his shake. He gagged. I began to describe variously horrible culinary possiblities. He gagged some more. On the walk home, I began to describe the specific smell of baby feces. Then the texture and color. He almost lost it. I harrassed him for a good long while, but to his credit, he held it in. I think he still looks pretty green.

Back at the office the emails began. First, I told a few choice people he was feeling sensetive. Then I sent him this:

"Hey Tim, try not to think of that smell of soiled diapers in the sun."


Other conspirators chimed in:

"...from a kid who just ate 10 Taco Bell tacos."
"Wait a second...Kids can eat 10 Taco Bell tacos but Tim can't?


My follow up:

"Well, yeah but they puke too. Yellowy baby puke."


Then I called him. The phone call is attached. I think I've past the golden time, and the chance of him puking is slimming. But I tried, dammit.

And I had really intended to perform a good deed, too.