Thanks to delaying tactics — such as showing Barry a bunch of Dane Cook videos, including this one on how women win arguments, and this one on “crying” until a friend of mine began bragging about her sexual conquest(s) in an A/V chat, the foot-long sandwich got a chance to work its way far enough through my digestive tract to make the results useless.
So no puking, no nausea, but a few flavorful burps.
Some food tastes good even the second time around.