Sammy's Great Vomit Affair

Squeamish Sammy squeaked his fingernail on an unpleasant surface and it made a noise that did not appeal to him. It sent a chill through his arm, up his shoulder, and into his heart. Simultaneously the icky squeak noise rattled down his ear and connected to an abstract image and feeling of sickness that existed in his brain. This combination caused him to throw up on his hand.
"Barf!" he said, as he barfed with his eyes shut tight.

He finished his barfing and opened his eyes. Obviously he didn't like the sight he saw of his throw up hand. He immediately imagined his throw up was acidic and eating away at the flesh on his hand, arm, and around his lips. He knew it wasn't actually, but the mental image disturbed him so that he began to vomit more.

Friendly Franny walked in.
"Boy you're really having a barf time aren't you, Sammy?" said Franny.
"Don't look at me you'll vomit everywhere like me." warned Sammy as he vomited more.
"Don't worry," said Franny, "vomit doesn't bother me at all. Vomit all you want."

Sammy thought of being a person that wasn't so grossed out by so many things. He didn't have the stomach for gory movies or rap songs with explicit lyrics. He thought about the calm and peace that would come from being a person who wasn't so squeamish. And then he vomited again, because in order to think about being a person not bothered by that stuff, he still had to think of the stuff.

He continued to barf. Then he would stop. Then he'd think of an image he didn't like again and continue barfing. Friendly Franny just stood there watching him barf for a while. She took a seat and watched quietly.

"You see I keep making associations with images that make me throw up." said Sammy.
"You're making barf associations?" said Friendly Franny.
"Yes." said a quivering Sammy.
"A Barf Association sounds like a place where people who have strong opinions about barf meet!" said Friendly Franny. They both laughed and Sammy vomit-laughed.

"Why don't you tell me some of the images you're thinking of when you barf? Maybe I'll barf too!" said Friendly Franny. Sammy told her a few things. Nothing worked.
"Snails." said a barfing Sammy.
"Nope." said a not afraid Franny.
"Mice." said a barfing Sammy.
"Nope." said a not afraid Franny.
"Dirty hair." said a barfing Sammy.
"Nope." said a not afraid Franny."
"Dirty hair in your food." said a barfing Sammy.
"Nope." said a not afraid Franny.
"A mouth full of someone's body hair." said a heaving gagging Sammy.
"Nope." said a not afraid Franny.

There was a pause. They looked at each other.
"Gosh you're so nice. I really like you." said Sammy. Then he barfed.
"What'd you think of just then?" asked Franny.
"Oh... " he puked a little more, "Well... just that how I said I liked you. Then I thought, what if you liked me? Then I thought of us kissing. And I imagined you kissing me, and then getting some of the mouth vomit from my mouth on your mouth. Then I imagined me being you, doing that to me with my vomit mouth and I thought it was disgusting. Then I barfed again."

Franny just looked at Sammy.
"I told you, barf doesn't bother me." she said in a nonjudgmental voice.
"What?" said Sammy.

Friendly Franny got up, walked slowly over to Sammy, being careful not to slip in his vomit puddles. She leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. Sammy was shocked. There was a stark tension in the room. They looked at each other, vomit on their mouths.

"I can't believe you kissed me on the vomit mouth!" exclaimed Sammy. "You're gross." he said and ran out of the room, as he vomited.

"It sounds like he took his judgement of himself out on you." said Franny's therapist after Franny told her about it all, "also that is pretty gross, you shouldn't kiss someone with vomit chunks on their mouth. It sounds like you could stand to be a bit more judgmental, Franny."