WARNING: This post contains graphic content, reader discretion is advised.

“Worse, how could it get any worse? We are at the threshold of hell!” Clark W. Griswold, Christmas Vacation . Repeated by Tiffany Vincent May 23 2008.

In my post last Thursday I eluded to a stomach virus that was partying at my house. I did not go into graphic detail in the earlier post, but the events of the week have left me no alternative but to vent the assault on my senses that has been the production of bodily fluid from members of my family. If you are weak of heart or stomach you had better skip this post and maintain your distance from my house.

It all began on Sunday May 3, 2008. I was sitting in Relief Society listening to a lovely lesson on Gifts of the Spirit, when I was abruptly called out into the hall, and informed that Katie had thrown up all over Rick. I located Rick outside and he was covered head to toe in curdled milk, from a bottle recently consumed by Katie. I took both home, stripped off their clothes, cleaned them up, and started a load of laundry. Shortly thereafter Katie protruded forth vomit again. I saw no other signs of trouble until Monday night when the diarrhea began. Several outfits and diaper changes later, I believed that she was under control, until I returned home from work on Tuesday to discover that Linda had three outfit changes during the day. More laundry.

Tuesday night I began to feel queasy. Actually I had not felt well all day, and did not know why. Around 8:00 p.m. it became evident that I would spend a long night producing my own bodily fluids, from both ends I might add. (I warned you this was graphic)

Wednesday at noon, I was feeling slightly better, only to discover Mark had regurgitated on the steps leading down to the basement. Changed his clothes, put him on the couch, gave him a big dose of Pepto. Within the hour the Pepto was revisited on my carpet. Out came the Hoover Steam Cleaner, and another change of clothes for Mark. Mid-afternoon found me still revisiting the ghosts of things previously eaten, and Linda beginning to do the same. By evening, Mark upchucked all over Rick, resulting in a change of clothes for both, and another round with the steam cleaner. Katie topped it off with a blow out in her diaper. More laundry. Rick decided to sleep on the couch and leave Mark and I to our sick infested selves in my bedroom. Rick was abruptly woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of Courtney in her bathroom, worshiping the porcelain god. Courtney then went down to the basement and did not surface for a day and an half.

Thursday was a slow day in the production of bodily fluids from my children, but a harsh day for Linda and Courtney. More laundry, all my bedding needed to be washed, and several blankets from the couch. Mark had a couple of trips to the bathroom and Katie of course had an evening blow out. Thursday night found Jeff worshiping the porcelain god.

Friday was Lauren’s day. She puked in my car, and later in a bowl at home, and of course she too suffered from “runs.” I told her if she felt it coming to hold her butt cheeks together and make haste for the bathroom. Lauren’s adventure cost me two loads of laundry.

My entire house, and my car, SMELLS, and I mean the worst kind of smell. The smell of bad gas combined with rotten food. I have seen partially digested hamburgers, french fries, fruit snacks, curdled milk, hot dogs, pizza, Ritz crackers, and enough regurgitated Sprite to last a life time. I really am at the threshold of hell, or on the verge of discovering a new diet plan.