Siren's Call
Being awake at two in the morning on a Saturday meant one of two things. Outrageously depressed and spiraling on life or outrageously drunk at a beach holding back a vomit. Ergo was the second one. He buried his face in his arms on the railing. That last buzz ball did it for him. He could feel his stomach churning and screaming at him for doing it. His eyes began to water, and snot dripped down to his lip. He wanted to apologize. To whom? Himself? He did it, he made those choices. He drew a sharp breath, it was blocked by the burning liquid coming up. Ergo had less than a second to think. “Move my legs, don’t throw up on the shoes. Bend over far enough not to get anything on my clothes. Aim for the sand. What could be coming up? The tacos from earlier? I think I’m good, nope—” chunky red liquid shot out of his mouth. Dry heave, then again. He fell back onto the pier head spinning. The stars turned halfway and reset back and began to turn again. It wasn’t tacos, it was the bacon wrapped hotdog. He could smell the bacon on his breath.
Comments (2)
This...was funny, made me thirsty and quite clever really too! Well done, LB!
Lovely, made me thirsty!