On the "new arrivals" shelf recently was I Killed, a collection of road warrior stories from hundreds of comedians - wild and amazing things that happened to them on the road. I haven't been able to put it down.
Here's an excerpt from an experience of John Bowman's (edited for length):
I had a reasonable expectation that at the zoo I would see some dangerous and unfamiliar animals, but protected by a fence, a moat, or at least some plastic sheeting. I certainly wasn't worried about the animals in the petting zoo.
So I had no fear when this llama ran to this little three-foot-high fence, made eye contact with me, and started to make a gurgling sound in its throat. Its lips were moving. Trying to be funny for my date, I said, "That llama wants a kiss."
She said, "Oh look, he's puckering his lips."
I started mimicking the llama's lip movements and throat sound. Which of course in llama meant, "Let's throw down, bitch."
I found out later that the llama could have nailed me from a hundred yards away. But I turned it into a slam-dunk contest by getting about two feet from the fence and doing a funny little cabbage-patch dance. I kind of remember my last words were, "I'm turning him on."
It was like one of those terrible accidents when you see everything in slow motion. I actually saw something coming for my face, and instead of a decent defense reaction, like closing my mouth and eyes or turning away, I went slack-jawed and wide-eyed. The bile not only filled my eyeballs but shot down my throat. It lifted me off my feet. I landed on my back, completely blinded, choking and vomiting. What followed was a smell that I still can't describe. I would have huffed a skunk's ass to get away from that llama stink. A week later I noticed that flies still buzzed around my head.
I don't know why humor involving projectile vomiting amuses me so much; perhaps it's just a defense mechanism due to my phobia re the same.