With Apologies to Natalie Merchant

I was inspired. After an afternoon feeling queasy, making poor dietary choices and finding that a walk to the beach is too far, I pulled myself together and spent the night doing springs, modified crunches, performing glute exercises and practicing my warrior cry. I was full-tilt, dashing in darkness, boxers and bucket and a prayer in my heart. Oh dear dogs, please don’t be in my path . . . Or, if you want to be more precise, hugging my bucket between races to the bathroom for exciting bouts of explosive vomiting and diarrhea. Woo-hoo!!! I can sit up now, but I think my eyeballs are about to fall out.

I had several culprits to blame for this: Had I been less than conscientious washing my hands after feeding and inspecting sheep? Did the woman I buy the paper from every day infect me? Should I not have eaten month-old cauliflower, covered in questionable cheese? None of these, it turns out. My own father did this to me. It is always the family . . .

Okay, enough stalling. With a thousand (or maybe 10,000 Maniacal) apologies to Natalie Merchant, I present my song:

FILL THE BUCKET
The color of the skin that I am in is corpse gray
lift my head from my pillow and heave again
with a shiver in my bowels just thinking about my bucket
a quiver in my guts as if I might die

Well by the force of flu my bucket’s filled and so I heave
lately it seems this puking will never end
shiver in my bowels just thinking about my bucket
a quiver in my guts as if I might die

What a rank and heaving day
where on earth is my health hid away

I feel the pound of a midnight run, I’m too late
puking here in the hall my face burning shame
with a shiver in my bowels just thinking about my bucket
a quiver in my guts as if I might die

Do I need someone
here to hold me or do I need someone
who’ll f**king shoot me
put me out of this misery
sinking deathward

It is such a long time since my better days
afternoons spent healthy, not puking guts away

The color of the skin that I am in is corpse gray
lift my head from my pillow and heave again
with a shiver in my bowels just thinking about my bucket
a quiver in my guts as if I might die

What a cold and smelly day
as if I’ve died and rotted away
I shiver, quiver, and puke again

Okay, enough of that. The pillow calls and I seem to have a sheen of sweat back upon my brow, cold and greasy. My stomach churns, starting to burn, feeling queasy. Oh yeah, happy days are here again. I am NOT supposed to get sick on sunny days, dammit!

2 thoughts on “With Apologies to Natalie Merchant

    1. Nathan Post author

      I forgot about that — I can blame YOU for my flu! We did talk (well, email) after all. That’s enough for exposure, right?

      Reply

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