Bean Boozled.

This game.
Is horrifying.
There is no way
-- EVER --
that you could pay me to play.
There was howling.
Lots of "OH NO, I got the vomit jelly bean."
Lawn clippings or key lime pie?
Oh you have GOT to be kidding!
We kept the back door unlocked
and ready,
in case barfing happened.
It did.
Aunt Sarah won the cool aunt/mom award.
None of the rest of the adults in the house would join in.
 You just could not pay me enough.
 Rotten eggs?
 Dead fish anyone?
 Sammy - the youngest of the bunch -
As in,
 The kid has a stomach of steal.
 This game just simply did.NOT.phase.him.
Not one little bit.
 The rest of us dry heaved as he proudly popped
a bunch of the worst jelly beans in his mouth.
All at the same time.

Jesus take the wheel.

I finally had to walk away.
Step away from the game.

And so,
we can say we've
played Bean Boozled.
And by "we,"
I really mean,
"Not me."


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