Rider Number Twelve: Cat Puke Migraine. 2.6 miles, 18 minutes, $13.80 (1.5 surge).

“How’s your day so far?” she said brightly, climbing into the back seat.

“Good,” I said. “Really good. Just getting started. How about you?”

“I have the worst migraine ever,” she chirped.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. She had a big smile on her face. Tight, but big.

“Oh, gee,” I said. “Those are the worst. I’m fine to just be quiet. I’ll try to drive real smooth.”

“No, I’d rather talk. If you don’t mind,” she said. “It’s a distraction.”

“Okay,” I said.

She didn’t say anything.

“So…other than the unfortunate migraine, how’s your day going?” I said.

“Great,” she said. “My cat got on my bed at 4 AM and started making this horrible gagging noise. I started dreaming that it was me. I’m like, oh my God, something’s making me gag. It was like gag…GAG…GAGGH. And then I woke up actually gagging a little bit. So gross. And then I woke up, and it was like, HORK! I really didn’t think a cat could throw up that much. Especially not all over me. So…yeah.”

“Migraine,” I said.

“Exactly,” she said. Then she laughed.

“Well, you seem to have a good attitude, anyway,” I said.

“Not really,” she said.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. She had a compact out and was applying lip-something.

“Well if I had a migraine,” I said, “I’d probably be at home with the covers over my head.

“I get that,” she said, smacking her lips. “But then you’d miss the day.”

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated Rudy Yuly’s story.