When I came home from work, I found Cindy wobbly on her legs in the kitchen next to a pile of empty orange juice Tetra packs. She gazed in abstraction, sucking at a straw. I had seen her more hale and hearty before, I must say.
It was time to find out, what was going on, but when I asked her, she couldn’t answer, because a longish roaring burp made its way through our flat. Finally there was silence and Cindy announced: „Orange juice repeats on me.“
„Could you please explain, what you are up to?“, I urged her, but she was sucking at that straw again. „ Look at my hair, Petra, it works already“, she gargled between two gulps, „I just need another wee dram.“ I forced her to give me her glass and sit down on the kitchen chair. She slumped into the chair. A peculiar gurgling sound evolved from her tummy. Cindy seemed to be quite grateful, that I had rescued her from drinking another gallon of orange juice. I passed her a big bowl and while she was hanging over the bowl, she repeated, “but look at my hair….“
I am not sure, if it’s a good idea hosting our new guests any longer.