I’ve never really thought of vomit as a weapon. But I suppose it would be pretty effective. I mean, who wants to be splashed with digested food? If someone threatend to puke on you, you’d surely back off.

This Puke Week tale submitted by MooAlex may not involve barf as a weapon, but it was definitely a catalyst for revenge. Hehehehhh…

It was kindergarten. Our lunch bitch lady, Big Ethel (yes, we were told to call her that), served pork & beans one day. As she placed plates of the slop in front of each of us at our little wooden tables, I shyly whispered to her, “I don’t like beans.”

Big Ethel leaned her significant bulk down to my level, looked me straight in the eye and said, “Well, if you don’t eat them, then Santa won’t bring you any toys.”

What could I do? I was four years old, and she played the Santa card. I forced the foul mess down.

I had the last laugh, though, as I puked the whole thing up not five minutes after I cleaned my plate. Big Ethel had to clean it up.

Ha! Eat that, Big Ethel.