appologies: words.
Being one of these perpetual student types; I am not unfamiliar with vomit. We have more or less become brethren. I once heard tale of a pissed friend who woke up, at the height of bed spins, to the sound of his own vomit. He looked up as he saw it rising out of his mouth picot in the air and come splashing down on his face. My self…? I’m generally and efficient drunk who can generally get him self to the toilet when necessary. Not this particular time though.

I was shit faced going through a period of regularly blacking out as far as my memory was concerned while my body continued to interact with the living world… at one point I helped walk a pissed friend home and looked after her quite well to all accounts. Other times my consciousness as kicked back in as I walked in to a garage door (later to be herded out of the this orangely lit warehouse type thing by men in reflective jackets as I tried to assure them this was on my route home, that night I got steered back telephonically by my housemate who looked up the road name on google earth) or mid sentence while ordering some camel cigarettes. This time, however, when my brain decided to start monitoring my progress; I was in bed.

I say in bed… I was lying at a 90^o angle to the common nocturnal supine position. I had managed to flollop down in an approximation of the recovery position: the majority of my legs dangling off the bed; my arm under my left turned head. My eyes initially focused on my exposed left arm. A shining snail trail of purple mucus and matter greeted my waking vision. The focus slowly changed from short to long. That’s when I saw it. Sat right in front of me was a near spherical ball of matter. No fluid to speak of just a mostly purple ball (I had been making my self dearer friends with the snakebite that night) suffused with all manner of kebab and what ever I had drunkenly stuffed into my gaping maw that eve. It looked at me square in the eyes and mocked my understanding of science. It was a lot bigger than my mouth and was one solid piece.

I dragged my self out of bed stripped the cover off my duvet making sure to carefully wrap this gastronomic oddity inside of the now heavily soiled sheet. I shuffled blearily off to the bath room to make an attempt at cleaning up my slime covered arm and my no doubt disgrace of a face.

I got to the bath room and started to clean the shimmering grime off my arm when I made the foolish error of looking up into the mirror. What greeted me, along with the sight of my vomit stained lips and clogged up beard, was a massive swelling above my right eye. At the apex of which was one of the nastiest little cuts I have seen so far in all my days. I washed up and went to bed resigned to sort anything else out in the morning.

The morning came and so did the hangover. Sweet Jesus did it come. A piecemeal investigation between my housemate and I concluded that I must of collapsed, face first, into a radiator at some point in the night; as he heard a massive thud coming from upstairs in the wee small hours. I most probably should of gone to a hospital, but being the man I am I left it. A few days later blood began seeping under my cornea: Eventually turning half the white part red. I displayed my war wound proudly referring to it as my darth maul eye.

Still... I have absolutely no idea how that vomit-orb fitted out my mouth. This still worries me much.
( arrangedletters, Mon 11 Jan 2010, 12:19, Reply)