Have I ever told you about Joh and the Very Dry Biscuit?
( I know I haven’t, because it just happened yesterday!)
Be warned: this one will be a bit gross.
We planned a lovely board game session with a few covid-conscious friends before the holidays. It seemed like a wonderful time to catch up in safety and comfort, plus we all adore board games. Now Joh (my partner) and I were hosting, so we had the usual frantic morning of getting everything vaguely presentable before guests arrived. And as such, Joh missed breakfast.
There were plenty of snacks available, but Joh really wanted to have cereal. No blame or fault there: it’s better for you and a lot more filling. Joh put the cereal into a bowl and then cried out in dismay: ‘V! There’s no milk!’
‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ I said to Joh. I mentally added it to the ever-growing list of errands. Joh, however, didn’t look like it was a disappointment. Joh looked devastated.
‘Perhaps you could have some dry cereal?’ suggested a friend.
‘It’s Weetabix,’ Joh replied glumly. (It was off-brand, but still). For those who don’t know, Weetabix is ‘wheat biscuits’, these huge, horrifically dry wheat losenges. They are pretty much inedible without something to moisten them.
We all agreed that the situation was unfortunate. But then Joh perked up. ‘I’ll just butter them!’
‘No,’ I said, because this is exactly the kind of ridiculous food shenanigan I am used to Joh pulling. ‘Don’t do that. It will be too dry.’
‘It’s fine!’ Joh said. ‘My family used to do this all the time!’
‘They did?’ a friend asked, I assume just as dubious as I was. I also found it foreboding that they ‘used to’.
‘They loved it!’ Joh said. ‘It’ll be great!’
‘It will be way too dry,’ I warned again, but Joh is never one to be deterred.
He slathered a thick layer of sunflower spread (we don’t use real butter) onto the wheat biscuit. It looked like it had been frosted like a cake. Joh grinned and took a bite. And chewed. And chewed. And the delight faded. And an expression of…confusion? Concern? Replaced it.
Joh coughed three dozen times and gasped dryly like a cartoon character that had swallowed a fly. Tears streamed from his eyes. ‘Dry,’ he said. ‘It’s too dry!’ He massaged his throat.
I remind you that this is a gathering of friends we trusted to be covid conscious. We ask all our friends to test before seeing us. We make a point of not carelessly infecting each other with colds or flus. And here is Joh, coughing explosively right beside the table where everyone is seated.
The coughing fit lasted five minutes, though it felt much longer.
And in the bowl, the second biscuit.
Joh looked around. ‘Don’t!’ I warned.
‘I have to finish it,’ said Joh. And in a comedic tone, like he knew it was foolish, he said, ‘It’ll be fine!’
Reader, it was not fine.
Joh coughed longer. And harder. ‘I think I might be sick,’ he said. A moment later, ‘Oh good! I was a little sick in my mouth and now I feel fine!’
I don’t think anybody but Joh thought this was fine. He sat down to take his turn in the game, deciding whether to build a factory or a train track.
Except moments later he leapt up. His cheeks puffed out and he raced to the bathroom with his hand cupped under his mouth.
We heard splashing and pouring liquid, then retching, then more pouring.
Joh returned, sweaty and tear-streaked. ‘I feel much better now!’ he said. ‘The tickle is gone.’
Reader, the tickle returned again and again, with a vengeance. Joh kept a sick bowl next to him in case he couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time, which he often didn’t. His throat was coated in fine, incredibly dry bits of wheat. Sticky and impossible to dislodge. We played for…probably an hour under these conditions, where sometimes Joh would suddenly have a coughing fit and race off to the bathroom.
‘This was so preventable!’ I said to Joh, rubbing his back, when he sat down.
‘I got sick from eating food!’ said Joh. ‘Food is meant to be eaten! Be nice to me.’
He was right that I should be nicer. He’d learned his lesson (I hoped). Nothing to be done. And when the hour passed, the tickle went with it.
He won the board game by a siginifcant margin.
That evening, when Joh was going through the fridge, he shouted ‘V!’
He turned to me with wide eyes. ‘There was milk.’
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