syd
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Feb 18, 2005
- Messages
- 273
You call in sick the day before Christmas Eve in order to get extremely fucked up.
You’re so dehydrated you can barely open your eyes. You peel them open long enough to make it to the kitchen and pour glass after glass of water down your throat. You immediately throw it all back up and black out on the kitchen floor for a little while.
After making a bee line for the bar and the whiskey to start celebrating Christmas Eve you pick up two chicks you couldn’t identify in a lineup and take them back to your place. You fuck the one you would swear is named Alice in the ass while her friend watches. As you come on her back you give her blonde haired friend a look that is meant to be seductive but is probably more pathetic than anything. Even still she kisses you hard and quickly takes her clothes off. You fuck her for a while really trying to get into it but before long it’s clear you’re not gonna come and worse you’re going to be sick. Like right that fucking second. You shoot your second load of holiday cheer all over her back. A nice mixture of turkey ham green beans rolls cranberry sauce and God knows how many different liquors. Cleaning herself with your brand new Polo your mother sent you for Christmas they are both yelling shit you couldn’t even begin to recall. They both leave throwing clothes and your processions at you screaming all kinds of shit while you simultaneously try to keep the vomit down and hold in your laughter.
You try and shoot dope for a while which amounts to you blindly stabbing your arm in an effort to get a hit you don’t even care about and laugh about the night before until you realize you’re the dumb fuck that gets to clean it all up. You deal with the bedroom as best you can then get sick a few more times. Somewhere in the middle of the night (morning?) you shit your pants
You wake up to the mess you’ve made and do your best to clean yourself up. You try for the needle again, but your hands are shaking so badly it’s not even a possibility. You settle for a handful of Percocets washed down with a huge glass of vodka which your stomach immediately tries to force back out. Considering the amount of dope you just washed down and the fact that you can’t get a needle in your arm you sit around and swallow your own vomit for a while watching the Christmas day parade. Eventually you begin to feel better and surrey the mess of your life. Unwilling to deal with any of it you take a shower and find your phone. Twenty-four missed calls you completely ignore and drink more vodka. Finally you get a good shot into you and snicker about the evening before. A couple lines of blow and you’re ready to hit the town…10:30 am Christmas morning.
Of course this fact doesn’t register until you start to wonder why all the bars are closed. Eventually you end up at the Green Room. A shit hole dive that’s an easier walk than a drive from your place. Despite the way you look and smell (which has got to be fucking awful) they let you in. You drink good scotch and flirt with the bartender that’s twice your age for a couple of hours before you announce loudly to the other two patrons that if you’re going to be seen in this shit stain of a bar you’re going to need some blow. The bar keep laughs as she’s seen your act many times and tells you to shut the fuck up if you want to keep drinking here. You tell her to get fucked and kick the doors open as if you’ve had been wronged.
Scene Missing.
Somehow or another you pissed off some brute and just after trying to get into the wrong car he hits you hard enough to knock two teeth down your throat. It’s okay though because while you’re down he kicks you hard enough to make you throw them back up. You cradle your two teeth in your hand and choke on your own blood for what seems like an entirely. At this point you really wished you would have returned one of those twenty four calls.
You walk the half mile back to your place because driving is out of the question doing your best to hold onto your stomach. You then turn around and walk the half mile back to retrieve your keys you must have dropped somewhere in the parking lot. You try and shoot some whiskey but the pain in your mouth is beyond even you. You manage to get a shot of dope in you and do enormous lines of blow until your cock gets hard. You call what seems like every woman you’ve ever met and until one agrees to come over and fuck you. During some point of trying to make you and your place presentable you black out.
When you finally come to its dark out and there are fourteen missed calls from the girl you begged to fuck you. This is of little importance at the moment because there is blood everywhere. Your mouth you can understand because there are two gaping holes in it, but your nose and cheek are a bit troubling. You lay out a couple of lines and it’s like snorting battery acid and setting it on fire. You get a good look at your face and frightening doesn’t do it justice. Somewhere along the line either your tooth was slammed through your cheek or you cut it when your head hit the asphalt. Either way your take a bottle of rubbing alcohol and drench your ruined cheek with it. You black out again.
You awake thanking God it was all just a dream until you move your head a quarter of an inch and realize you are this big of a fuck up. You make it to your stash and load a rig with enough dope to drop an elephant. Not even caring if you hit a vein you jab your arm until the needle is empty. Your last clear thought before you nod off is wondering where your teeth are.
The day is new and gray when you come to again, but you can’t open your jaw to let out the sigh of pain that wants so desperately to escape. You make it to your feet which sets off a wave of dizziness that turns your stomach. This is unfortunate because you fall and begin to vomit at the same time. The pain is immediate and indescribable. Blood vomit and vile coats everything around you and yourself. As you realize you’re crying you vaguely wonder where your two missing teeth are. Blacking out once again you distantly hear screaming and the sound of wood cracking.
You wake up in the ER to find your cheek nicely stitched up and a smooth rush of morphine slowly draining into your arm. You’re still minus a couple teeth, but the wounds have been treated with something that makes them feel at least tolerable. The most comforting sight however is your long time friend sitting next to your bed. She is covering her mouth with her hand and rocking back and forth. Her mascara is ruined and the remains are mostly scattered on her tear stained cheeks. Despite the effort it must take when she sees you open your eyes she rubs the cut on your cheek and kisses your forehead.
You’re such a dumb shit, she tells you. I hate you for scaring me like that.
You just give her a small sad smile in return and whisper a painful merry Christmas.
Apparently when you were admitted your blood pressure was two ten over one sixty. Your heart rate was a hundred and fifty two beats a minute. Your blood alcohol level was a staggering point four one, which they tell you is impossible. They tell you you’re not supposed to be alive. They tell you you’ve done irreparable damage to you liver, kidneys and possibly your heart. For whatever reason you tell the people who want nothing more than to help you to fuck off and try to rip the IV from your arm. They shoot you full of something that makes the world go dark again.
The wood breaking was your door crashing in and the screaming was your best friend getting her first look at you. A few of the twenty four missed calls were her trying to wish you a merry Christmas. After a day or so of you not answering the door or the phone she had the police break it down.
When you finally get back to your place, fifty eight hundred dollars lighter no less, the scene is horrific. Blood shit and glass cover almost every surface. The stench is overpowering. You gag a few times almost breaking the stitches in your cheek. You manage to make it to your stash and spend a couple of nights at a shitty hotel wishing for death. You realize you haven’t eaten in a week. You shoot dope, not in order to get high, but just to starve off the pain in your mouth. You call around for a dentist and wonder what happened to your teeth. This is difficult because you can barely talk and have to repeat yourself numerous times. Eventually you just throw your phone through the wall which takes some explaining to the neighbors.
You wake up to the hammering on the shitty hotel door and some rude bastard telling you you’re credit card is no longer good. You spit blood and God knows what into his face and tell him to fuck off. A short time later you are roughly yanked from the bed and thrown into the parking lot. This hurts your cheek a lot. You talk a stranger into letting you use his cell and call a cab. It cost you the remaining forty dollars in your wallet to get back to your place. Withdraws have you so bad at this point you don’t even care and throw the man two twenties.
Magic hasn’t cleaned your place for you and you finally rip the stitches out puking. You do a terrible job of putting your face back together and call some girl who you’d swear was named Alice. It wasn’t.
For New Years you’re planning on just shooting yourself.
Happy Christmas Everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!
You’re so dehydrated you can barely open your eyes. You peel them open long enough to make it to the kitchen and pour glass after glass of water down your throat. You immediately throw it all back up and black out on the kitchen floor for a little while.
After making a bee line for the bar and the whiskey to start celebrating Christmas Eve you pick up two chicks you couldn’t identify in a lineup and take them back to your place. You fuck the one you would swear is named Alice in the ass while her friend watches. As you come on her back you give her blonde haired friend a look that is meant to be seductive but is probably more pathetic than anything. Even still she kisses you hard and quickly takes her clothes off. You fuck her for a while really trying to get into it but before long it’s clear you’re not gonna come and worse you’re going to be sick. Like right that fucking second. You shoot your second load of holiday cheer all over her back. A nice mixture of turkey ham green beans rolls cranberry sauce and God knows how many different liquors. Cleaning herself with your brand new Polo your mother sent you for Christmas they are both yelling shit you couldn’t even begin to recall. They both leave throwing clothes and your processions at you screaming all kinds of shit while you simultaneously try to keep the vomit down and hold in your laughter.
You try and shoot dope for a while which amounts to you blindly stabbing your arm in an effort to get a hit you don’t even care about and laugh about the night before until you realize you’re the dumb fuck that gets to clean it all up. You deal with the bedroom as best you can then get sick a few more times. Somewhere in the middle of the night (morning?) you shit your pants
You wake up to the mess you’ve made and do your best to clean yourself up. You try for the needle again, but your hands are shaking so badly it’s not even a possibility. You settle for a handful of Percocets washed down with a huge glass of vodka which your stomach immediately tries to force back out. Considering the amount of dope you just washed down and the fact that you can’t get a needle in your arm you sit around and swallow your own vomit for a while watching the Christmas day parade. Eventually you begin to feel better and surrey the mess of your life. Unwilling to deal with any of it you take a shower and find your phone. Twenty-four missed calls you completely ignore and drink more vodka. Finally you get a good shot into you and snicker about the evening before. A couple lines of blow and you’re ready to hit the town…10:30 am Christmas morning.
Of course this fact doesn’t register until you start to wonder why all the bars are closed. Eventually you end up at the Green Room. A shit hole dive that’s an easier walk than a drive from your place. Despite the way you look and smell (which has got to be fucking awful) they let you in. You drink good scotch and flirt with the bartender that’s twice your age for a couple of hours before you announce loudly to the other two patrons that if you’re going to be seen in this shit stain of a bar you’re going to need some blow. The bar keep laughs as she’s seen your act many times and tells you to shut the fuck up if you want to keep drinking here. You tell her to get fucked and kick the doors open as if you’ve had been wronged.
Scene Missing.
Somehow or another you pissed off some brute and just after trying to get into the wrong car he hits you hard enough to knock two teeth down your throat. It’s okay though because while you’re down he kicks you hard enough to make you throw them back up. You cradle your two teeth in your hand and choke on your own blood for what seems like an entirely. At this point you really wished you would have returned one of those twenty four calls.
You walk the half mile back to your place because driving is out of the question doing your best to hold onto your stomach. You then turn around and walk the half mile back to retrieve your keys you must have dropped somewhere in the parking lot. You try and shoot some whiskey but the pain in your mouth is beyond even you. You manage to get a shot of dope in you and do enormous lines of blow until your cock gets hard. You call what seems like every woman you’ve ever met and until one agrees to come over and fuck you. During some point of trying to make you and your place presentable you black out.
When you finally come to its dark out and there are fourteen missed calls from the girl you begged to fuck you. This is of little importance at the moment because there is blood everywhere. Your mouth you can understand because there are two gaping holes in it, but your nose and cheek are a bit troubling. You lay out a couple of lines and it’s like snorting battery acid and setting it on fire. You get a good look at your face and frightening doesn’t do it justice. Somewhere along the line either your tooth was slammed through your cheek or you cut it when your head hit the asphalt. Either way your take a bottle of rubbing alcohol and drench your ruined cheek with it. You black out again.
You awake thanking God it was all just a dream until you move your head a quarter of an inch and realize you are this big of a fuck up. You make it to your stash and load a rig with enough dope to drop an elephant. Not even caring if you hit a vein you jab your arm until the needle is empty. Your last clear thought before you nod off is wondering where your teeth are.
The day is new and gray when you come to again, but you can’t open your jaw to let out the sigh of pain that wants so desperately to escape. You make it to your feet which sets off a wave of dizziness that turns your stomach. This is unfortunate because you fall and begin to vomit at the same time. The pain is immediate and indescribable. Blood vomit and vile coats everything around you and yourself. As you realize you’re crying you vaguely wonder where your two missing teeth are. Blacking out once again you distantly hear screaming and the sound of wood cracking.
You wake up in the ER to find your cheek nicely stitched up and a smooth rush of morphine slowly draining into your arm. You’re still minus a couple teeth, but the wounds have been treated with something that makes them feel at least tolerable. The most comforting sight however is your long time friend sitting next to your bed. She is covering her mouth with her hand and rocking back and forth. Her mascara is ruined and the remains are mostly scattered on her tear stained cheeks. Despite the effort it must take when she sees you open your eyes she rubs the cut on your cheek and kisses your forehead.
You’re such a dumb shit, she tells you. I hate you for scaring me like that.
You just give her a small sad smile in return and whisper a painful merry Christmas.
Apparently when you were admitted your blood pressure was two ten over one sixty. Your heart rate was a hundred and fifty two beats a minute. Your blood alcohol level was a staggering point four one, which they tell you is impossible. They tell you you’re not supposed to be alive. They tell you you’ve done irreparable damage to you liver, kidneys and possibly your heart. For whatever reason you tell the people who want nothing more than to help you to fuck off and try to rip the IV from your arm. They shoot you full of something that makes the world go dark again.
The wood breaking was your door crashing in and the screaming was your best friend getting her first look at you. A few of the twenty four missed calls were her trying to wish you a merry Christmas. After a day or so of you not answering the door or the phone she had the police break it down.
When you finally get back to your place, fifty eight hundred dollars lighter no less, the scene is horrific. Blood shit and glass cover almost every surface. The stench is overpowering. You gag a few times almost breaking the stitches in your cheek. You manage to make it to your stash and spend a couple of nights at a shitty hotel wishing for death. You realize you haven’t eaten in a week. You shoot dope, not in order to get high, but just to starve off the pain in your mouth. You call around for a dentist and wonder what happened to your teeth. This is difficult because you can barely talk and have to repeat yourself numerous times. Eventually you just throw your phone through the wall which takes some explaining to the neighbors.
You wake up to the hammering on the shitty hotel door and some rude bastard telling you you’re credit card is no longer good. You spit blood and God knows what into his face and tell him to fuck off. A short time later you are roughly yanked from the bed and thrown into the parking lot. This hurts your cheek a lot. You talk a stranger into letting you use his cell and call a cab. It cost you the remaining forty dollars in your wallet to get back to your place. Withdraws have you so bad at this point you don’t even care and throw the man two twenties.
Magic hasn’t cleaned your place for you and you finally rip the stitches out puking. You do a terrible job of putting your face back together and call some girl who you’d swear was named Alice. It wasn’t.
For New Years you’re planning on just shooting yourself.
Happy Christmas Everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!
