Chunks awaaaaaaay.
As a youngster I shared a bunk bed with my even youngsterer brother. Being the elder I chose and was the happy custodian of the upper bunk, from which I could rule the room like the diminutive king of a tiny kingdom.

Days, months and years passed with no ado about anything, until one over-indulgent Christmas eve when sickness stirred my guts and an evening full of excitement and chocolate was expelled from within.

Gravity kept up its end of the bargain and took my vomit directly downwards to where my brother's head was hanging over the edge of the bed.

I've never experienced it myself, but I'm told that there are few worse ways to be awoken that with a face-full of warm, sticky sick; I'll happily take his word for it.
( Moey, Tue 12 Jan 2010, 16:55, Reply)