The Polish Experience By Nicholas Westerby This ... - GetSab.Com

It was a beautiful sunny morning and life was good. I was the boss. I had a
trusty sidekick or more appropriately confidant and I had a beautiful woman in
the bathroom throwing up.
Wait a minute.
“Are you ok?” I asked nervously.
“You bastard.” That was what I understood.
It was sandwiched in between a lot of Polish. I am pretty sure she was cursing
me out in Polish too but ignorance truly is bliss sometimes.
“Was it the Mexican food?” I asked. “I doubt they were really Mexicans.”
Not that it mattered.
She emerged from the bathroom, hair strewn in more directions than a compass
had ever known, sick dripping from the corner of her mouth and her eyes red
and puffy.
“The Communists didn’t come.”
“Erm, good.” I said not sure what she meant.
She just stared at me. Looked down at herself and then back it me.
It hit me.
It hit me link a mother fucking Mack truck.