Sitting around at pilot smoking, drinking coffee, listening to music, making random jokes about stupid shit and the past, Q gets up, time to leave after he gets back.
Q comes back, we get ready, I feel the urge comming on.
that bloody taste in your mouth that has no match, the one that says to you on the inner side "you've fucking drank to much coffee and cigarettes, not slept for a long time, and ate maybe 1 piece of food in the past day. you're fucked buddy".
so off I go, washroom - stall.
only 1 stall open.
in this stall I ponder using it, or the floor. as the entire urination thing that never flushes on those little readers that never really flush come into play.
alas, respecting the pilot station, I stare at the tile roof, take a deep breath, realize the future is inevitable, and stare down.
Incomming (rather outgoing)...
first wave attack splashs half the seat, the other half on the ground barely missing my legs with the spray.
I save myself a pant washing before the pants time is up.
Stare back at the tile ceiling, this time cursing god for some reason.
second wave.
this one is a lot more red, and less brownish coffee and pepsi coloured.
stare back up, give a nod, giggle.
third, pure red. when this one comes, you know you're fucked.
red stringy shit that must be hurting something inside.
forth wave, not even before third finishes, it just keeps comming.
blood wave after blood wave, like some poorly designed ebola flick.
red splashes the seat, the walls, a very "silent hill" style to it, that it doesn't look to good until it ends up in a dark lighting.
wait for it...
wait for it.....
words I remeber as jef is about to punch me some reason why back a few weeks ago.
nothing.
within 3 seconds it ends, the world that ponders through my mind lasts 3 seconds, for those 3 seconds I notice clarity, a feeling of relief, relaxation, compassion for those around, and all that other bullshit that goes with feeling guilty.
three seconds up, walk out, some guy waiting for a stall. "don't go there, it's puked". word of warning, the guy understands and doesn't step, but does a backwards DDR step side side back-side.
sink.
rinse the mouth twice, all to familiar, 3 times makes the water taste like shit, 1 time makes the stench stay in the mouth.
2 is the perfect number.
walk out.
exit building
blow a huge chunk of something that resembled a piece of cheese that was eaten last night out of the nose.
continue the walk
car
next to car is the guy I told not to go to the stall.
he nods, I nod, I get in, jef drives away.
the future looks bright.
the ride to home was a conversation about puking, shrooms, and weed.
exit car
end
Q comes back, we get ready, I feel the urge comming on.
that bloody taste in your mouth that has no match, the one that says to you on the inner side "you've fucking drank to much coffee and cigarettes, not slept for a long time, and ate maybe 1 piece of food in the past day. you're fucked buddy".
so off I go, washroom - stall.
only 1 stall open.
in this stall I ponder using it, or the floor. as the entire urination thing that never flushes on those little readers that never really flush come into play.
alas, respecting the pilot station, I stare at the tile roof, take a deep breath, realize the future is inevitable, and stare down.
Incomming (rather outgoing)...
first wave attack splashs half the seat, the other half on the ground barely missing my legs with the spray.
I save myself a pant washing before the pants time is up.
Stare back at the tile ceiling, this time cursing god for some reason.
second wave.
this one is a lot more red, and less brownish coffee and pepsi coloured.
stare back up, give a nod, giggle.
third, pure red. when this one comes, you know you're fucked.
red stringy shit that must be hurting something inside.
forth wave, not even before third finishes, it just keeps comming.
blood wave after blood wave, like some poorly designed ebola flick.
red splashes the seat, the walls, a very "silent hill" style to it, that it doesn't look to good until it ends up in a dark lighting.
wait for it...
wait for it.....
words I remeber as jef is about to punch me some reason why back a few weeks ago.
nothing.
within 3 seconds it ends, the world that ponders through my mind lasts 3 seconds, for those 3 seconds I notice clarity, a feeling of relief, relaxation, compassion for those around, and all that other bullshit that goes with feeling guilty.
three seconds up, walk out, some guy waiting for a stall. "don't go there, it's puked". word of warning, the guy understands and doesn't step, but does a backwards DDR step side side back-side.
sink.
rinse the mouth twice, all to familiar, 3 times makes the water taste like shit, 1 time makes the stench stay in the mouth.
2 is the perfect number.
walk out.
exit building
blow a huge chunk of something that resembled a piece of cheese that was eaten last night out of the nose.
continue the walk
car
next to car is the guy I told not to go to the stall.
he nods, I nod, I get in, jef drives away.
the future looks bright.
the ride to home was a conversation about puking, shrooms, and weed.
exit car
end
starcandy:
Ha, that is quite and indiffent way of telling the story. Haha my entry is: I spewed today.