(Try Not To) Picture It.

The Devil has this habit of telling the same stories over and over. I used to humor her, smile and nod and listen politely, then try and subtly change the subject. Lately, though, I've given up all tactfulness and just say: "Yeah. You already told me that." I just can't take it anymore.

For example. Whenever the subject of illness comes up in conversation, like if you happen to mention you're coming down with a cold, she tells the story of the worst case of stomach flu she ever had. Every time. With details. Such as: she was desperately clutching the toilet bowl, retching violently and simultaneously experiencing uncontrollable diarrhea. That is, retching into the toilet while trying to sit atop a garbage pail.

I wonder: Why the fuck would you not sit on the toilet and vomit into the trash can, like a human being, you stupid cow? And even if this actually happened to you, why the fuck would you tell somebody about it? Dozens of times?