Bloody Pizza

After church today, we went to CiCi’s pizza. For those of you that don’t know,  by ‘we’ I mean my grandparents and my two sisters, plus my little brother. We walked in, and  sat down after getting our drinks and food. After we had all eaten our fill, we talked. In a while, Amy spilled her drink. As I stooped below the table to help how I could, I realized my nose had started bleeding. I swear, it was like a chain reaction or something. One disaster after another. I stood up, announced my nose was bleeding, and went to the restroom, where a man and a child were walking out. The kid stared at me, and as the door closed, he turned around and made it close slower, staring all the while. I stood at the sink and ignored him. When he had left, I realized I needed to pee. My nose had pretty much stopped, so I held the paper towel in one hand and aimed with the other. Just then my grandfather walked in. He asked if I was okay, then went back to the table. I finished, and was cleaning my nose when another man walked in. He asked if I had been punched in the nose. I said no. He asked if I been picking it. Again, no. I proceeded to explain to him that they just spontaneously occur during the winter and spring, occasionally fall. I finished cleaning up and went back to the table.

Now- just imagine, what if it had started as I bit into a pizza, and I didn’t even notice it and took another bite of the pizza? Or I was drinking, and it started pouring? “Granny, this root beer tastes weird.” “I thought that was Hi-C or Cherry Coke.” “Oh… that explains it.”

Ah, Sunday. The day of rest.