About two years ago, Bryan went back to Arizona to photograph a wedding for one of his college friends. He flew home early on a Monday morning and went to work. By noon that day, he was sicker than sick and was in bed at home. He couldn't keep anything down and basically slept for three days. (We found out later, that some other people from the wedding got sick too, probably something in the food.)
During one of those nights, I was on the phone with my brother. Here's how the conversation went:
Me: Yeah, so Bryan has been sick for three days. Can't seem to eat anything.
Craig: Really? That sucks.
Me: It's weird, it's as if there is something living inside of him, eating what he is eating.
Craig: What, you mean like a billy goat?
Huh? Well, yes Craig, as a matter of fact, it's exactly like a billy goat.
Well, the billy goat made a return this week. I woke up in the middle of the night on Wednesday and puked my guts out. I don't think I've ever been more sick than I was that night. Probably some leftovers I ate. I was finally starting to feel better yesterday, but now B is sick. Those gosh darn billy goats. They can be so pesky sometimes.
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