STORY 3......SWOOSH SWOOSH

Somewhere in my twenties. Once my sister and I had moved out, and my brother was the only one left in the house. My mom had more time and started experimenting with food. My mom was always a good cook. In her own way, she struggled with telling us she loved us too. But she said it with food, and there was always more food going in than we were able to digest. This one time, my mom made a new meal called couscous. My dad, as he often did, "what is this? That's the best I ever had." So he shoves it down, as if it was a competition. Still sitting at the table, about forty five minutes later, my dad starts rubbing his belly. And we hear him starting to gurgle. He quickly gets up from the table and marches upstairs.

DO. DO. DO. DO. We hear the bathroom door squeak and close. And then we hear the toilet flush. And down he comes. Sits at the table for about five minutes, rubs his stomach again. "Oh, man. I don't feel so good." Marches back upstairs even quicker.

DO. DO. DO. DO. Comes down one more time and sits for about thirty seconds.

Dad: "Damn it! What is that stuff?"

Mom: "couscous."

Dad: "swoosh, swoosh?"

And he marches upstairs.

DO. DO. DO. DO. Except this time, we hear a different squeak. We hear the squeak of the bathtub's tap. My dad didn't make it. The table explodes with laughter. My Mom never made swoosh swoosh again.