Months with no R's

Sunday afternoon my family and I went for dinner in a clean family restaurant.
I ordered the "pulled pork" and ravenously devoured every crumb.
It came with fried sweet onions and a sticky honey-garlic sauce. It was delicious.
Cold comfort when not a few hours later my stomach began to protest.

I went to bed groaning.
It was apparant that sleep was not going to be easy.
I was up and down all night and the next morning I felt _all right_ but just so.
Thinking it was just a poor choice off the menu I went to work.
By my second client, I had already hit the beach washrooms twice.
By the fourth I had stopped in the town, *and* at a friends, *and* was green at the gills.

Still, I thought it had abated.

I walked into one of my Ladies and as I stooped to put my keys down, my guts roiled.
I stood upright and stock still.

"Are you all right? You look not yourself."
Damned straight.
She had her companion serve me some flat ginger ale which calmed the roiling.
She filled a flask for me for later. Saved me, that did.

I told her I thought the pulled pork was pulling me.
"Pork? In August? Never eat pork in a month without an R."

She allowed as how refrigeration had made that saying somewhat archaic but having suffered a full 48 hours with stomach and intestinal distress I think she may be onto something.
I spent the next 24 hours in bed moaning.

Bugger the bollocky pork anyway.
[With a pointy stick!]

I was back to work today and back to return the flask.

"Thank you so much for the ginger ale. Well and truly you saved me."

"OH , my pleasure. You save ME every day."

I said she was being kind and she said she was telling the truth and we parted both smiling.

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