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The Stumble

by keithhodges 

Posted: 18 November 2008
Word Count: 508
Summary: A story about throwing up on yourself drunk.


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It was late, it was dark, I was on my way home and there wasnít much I could do to stop myself. I fell to the floor, I had this curling pain in my stomach as if there was something alive in there, and as I lurched forwards a blue liquid sprayed from my mouth. The splash back of this evil tasting stomach fluid hit my fingers and my arm gave way. I fell into the vomit, covering my left side making myself look like a homeless smurf. Looking like I was an oversized ice pole that had been left out in the rain. I didnít know what to do, my whole body was stiff, so heavy, unable to move I just waited, laying there in my own filth. Surely someone would help me, at some point someone would pass me in the street and help me. It was cold, getting colder and I was falling in and out of consciousness, I tried to stand pulling my self up a lamppost, the icy metal soothed the excruciating throbbing in my temple. I staggered forwards, and once again lost my balance, I grabbed onto a bush, the holy ripped into me cutting my hand, a small trickle of blood rolled down my palm through the crack in my fingers. It tickled, and I let out a small giggle, that if I was in any other state than the nausea I was currently suffering, I wouldnít have let out at all. I wiped my hand on my shirt, changing my appearance from that of a blueberry, to that of a some sort of rejected iced sponge cake that had been dropped and stepped on in the kitchen of a bakery. I composed myself, pushed my hands towards the floor as if I was straightening it out, making it flat so I didnít I stumble again. I tried to carry on walking, and my efforts to paste over the floor didnít work. I fell to the ground again, gagging, my stomach felt like it was going to fall out of my mouth. Nothing but bile, and the last droplets of the blue fluid that had been forced down my throat appeared on the concrete in front of me. As my arms gave way my face hit the floor, it went numb and I just laid there on the pavement, my eyes were shut and the whole world was spinning. What was happening to me? Why couldnít I stop it? This was the last thing I remember, the next day I awoke covered in cuts, and my head was still pounding. I ached all over, the pain was bouncing up and down my body, with every heartbeat, the blood pushing around my insides felt like it was stretching my skin. I had to do something, I didnít know how to cope, and thatís when it hit me. I realised what had happened the night before, I had to make a decision.
The only decision I could, never again would I drink alcho-pops.







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