She turned and yelled down the hallway. ‘Vic, get out here quick!’ Seconds later my dad, still in boxers and a tee shirt, appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘Danny ate the sucker with the Taro Ant Poison on it,’ she screamed. My dad made a frantic call to our family doctor. ‘Dr. Zawarski says we have to make Danny throw up before the poison gets into his bloodstream,’ my dad shouted, phone still in his hand. Danny, though firmly wrapped up in my dad’s massive arms, still managed to squirm and kick, as my mother tried in vain to force soapy water down his throat. Through it all, Danny kept saying over and over, ‘I didn’t eat the sucker, why won’t anyone believe me?’ I said nothing. When the soapy water didn’t work, my parents went to Plan B. My mother, still in her robe, raced out the front door while my Dad changed and threw Danny into the back seat of our Ford station wagon, still in his snoopy pajamas. Minutes later, my winded mother was back. ‘Kids, Mrs. Taski will be over. He lurched in the direction of the bathroom, which was at the back end of the bakery, and he barely made it to the toilet before he started retching violently. The contents of his stomach came flying out of him like water out of a firehose, and in a matter of seconds he'd completely emptied his insides.He flushed the toilet and stood there woozily, barely able to stand up. He held on to the sink for balance, turned on the cold water, and splashed his face with it to bring himself around. What kind of madness was this? The flour, that magic flour that had made Julie want to eat 50 donuts all at once, that same flour made his stomach want to turn itself inside out. He couldn't understand it; what was in this stuff?Whatever was in it, he knew one thing: he would never eat a donut, or a muffin, or a cupcake, or anything made with that damned flour. He was starting to believe it was cursed. He looked himself in the mirror, water dripping off his face, his hair askew, red marks on his face.
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