I'm Pretty Sure She'll Recover

Ahem.

If you have delicate sensibilities, you may want to go find something else to read, today.

Seriously.

Not kidding.

OK, then, read on if you will...but you were warned.
~~~~~
I take several medications, when I can afford them. One of those medications causes some unfortunate side effects. Not all the time, only when I eat things that I shouldn't. So...all the time, then.

I'm talkin' gas, people, and I don't mean fuel - although I could power a space shuttle with my output, when it's really fierce.

Not polite, ladylike toots.

Eruptions of epic proportions.

Couple that with my recent mass consumption of pumpkin seeds (I can't stop eating them, dear Goddess, they're so good, someone please help me), which also tend to create...erm...a situation...and there's good reason to fear for your life around Casa de Crazy these days.

Thank you, Goddess, Someone is not here to witness this outbreak, or he might run for the hills, never to return.

This morning, Rook wasn't so lucky.

When I woke, it was to a familiar sensation - venting was imminent. Cats were curled in various strategic places around me, happy to share the blankets and the occasional pet. I couldn't get up in a hurry without causing havoc, and anyway, it's just gas, so I closed my eyes, said a silent apology to the ozone layer, and let her rip.

Flabadabadabadabadap!

Whew.

There was a wee squeak near the end. Huh.

Then, wriggling.

Then Rook emerged from under the covers, dazed, scorched, and more than a little cross-eyed. She staggered left. She staggered right. She shook her head, sneezed, and squeaked again. She looked back to where she'd been, shook herself, staggered again...and fell off the bed.

Whoopsie.

She's still walking a little sideways...