An unwanted holiday surprise

There was one last gift left under the Christmas tree this year, opened up the day after to expose the gift that keeps giving ‘ the yuletide virus.

Yes, everyone connected in any way with my Christmas party this year ended up getting an unwanted gift to take home, that being some type of horrible funk which makes you thankful you didn’t eat that fruit cake Aunt Martha sent you this year, because if you did, you saw it again.

Actually, ground zero of the yuletide virus ended up being none other than the most unassuming attendee of the party, the person who never even uttered a word during the festivities, my youngest son Henry. Our investigation of the outbreak has drawn us back to the toddler himself, who, prior to the party was suffering from something I can only describe as a nasty smelling, um, discharge sometimes called diaper surprise. Frankly, I thought nothing of it seeing he was acting normal except for his toxic, and quite colorful, diaper offerings. After all, you can’t catch anything from a baby, right?

Well, the Christmas party went off without a hitch as just a few of us sat around and played video games and played with the baby. It was the following day, however, something was amiss as my wife, who had been working the night before and had not attended the party, became the first to fall prey to the bug.

At first I figured it was something she ate, that is, until later my son Jack began to complain of stomach issues. This, I chalked up to being all in his head, that is until what was in his head hit the bathroom floor.

And let me just step aside for a second here folks. If you can get to the bathroom, then you can make it that next three feet to the toilet. Please, give it that one last burst before you blow chunks.

With this revelation, things aren’t looking too good when, as Winnie the Pooh says, I began feeling a ‘rumbly in my tumbly.’ Sure enough, a few hours later I was worshiping at the foot of Mount Porcelain, much to the delight of my 10-year-old who just hours earlier I had told to ‘man up’ when he didn’t make it to the toilet. Well, I made it, all five times that night.

While this may all be going in one ear and out the other, it should be noted that the shrugging off of my Christmas party by most of the staff here may have been all that saved the Friday edition because this wasn’t a ‘work through virus.’ Had the entire staff been at my party, considering the 100 percent contagion rate, then you would have been reading 100 percent wire stories, kind of like getting a nationally syndicated publication.

As an example of the quick rate of spread, I got a text message from our graphics guru Seth Wright on Thursday morning informing me he and his girlfriend, both attendees at my extravaganza, had gotten it. This was followed by a call from my mother who had also gotten it, but was not present when the others were there but whom had close contact with Henry that evening.

Given the fact James Clark was out of town, it put us down to two regular reporters and the sports guys. Had they been at the party, I feel sure the virus would have flattened everyone.

A careful reconstruction of the virus’ spread shows the common denominator was the toddler and I don’t need the CDC to tell me that. You’ve got to be careful of those cute ones because they pack a powerful punch for their size.

Duane Sherrill is a reporter for the Standard. He can be reached at 473-2191 or by e-mail at [email protected].