Sigmund
After throwing up for the third time into a vase, the flowers from within now scattered across the floor, I glanced at the window and thought for a moment. It looked like I would have to cancel the afternoon's show, the state I was in then. I sat down, feeling in a rotten mood, clutching my stomach. A quick dial on my phone and I spoke to my manager, telling him that I was sick and my worries about having to cancel the show, and we agreed to see how I felt later. I had a lie down and a glass of water and fell asleep.
A few hours later, when I woke up, I didn't feel as nauseous as before, and I felt really bad about not being quick enough to find anything better than a vase of flowers, so I got to work cleaning the vase out. I was hungry, but considering how I had been earlier I chose to ignore it. The smell of the washing up liquid I was using was getting to me though. I don't know, I'd never noticed it smelled so good before, and it set my stomach growling again. I abandoned those efforts and went to the window before I could go funny and start eating the soap. Well, if I was considering that, I was definitely sick, or perhaps a lot hungrier than I thought, so I gave in and made myself a snack, but ugh, I still wanted to eat the damn dish soap. I sat down again, grumpy and sick and I checked the time. Five minutes to go time. Was it worth it? Was I well enough to go out there and perform? Well, I didn't want to disappoint the fans, but neither did I want to throw up in front of them...In the end I bit the bullet and performed, and guess what?
I threw up into a tophat live on stage. I reached over to get something for another trick, when suddenly the nausea came back and I knew at once what was going to happen, and yet again I had no time to get to a toilet, so I grabbed the nearest thing that would hold it, barely thinking, and brought up my afternoon snack and all the water I'd drunk. I glanced up at the waiting audience, just as shocked as they were and awfully embarrassed, put the hat down, gave a flourish of my hand and faked a faint. My manager came on and apologised to the audience in their native language, carefully carting me off the stage and back to my trailer.
"Sigmund?" He asked uncertainly. I opened one eye at once. "That was a silly stunt to pull."
"So was going on stage..."
He brushed my hair back off my forehead, a fatherly gesture, and bid me get some rest.
I spent the rest of the week awfully tired, and the throwing up didn't die down. I stayed in my night clothes, eating dilute soup for a while, and I did end up drinking some of the damn washing up liquid, I just really wanted it, and it made me even sicker, of course, and I spent the rest of the day curled up in bed. Obviously I'd done something stupid, and I was paying for it. It was the very next morning, where, feeling a lot better and headed home, I got up and got dressed, and amazingly I found I had gained a little bit of weight, even though I'd been eating far less than before. It was only a slight weight gain, barely visible, but I could definitely feel my trousers were tighter than normal. I put my hand to my stomach and it felt bloated, not fat...it would probably stop when the bug was passed, I guessed.
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