Friday, 11 March 2016
Story #199 - Binge Drinking
I love drinking. I love it so much that I go out every night and stay until the pub closes.
As you can imagine, that costs some money. I spend about 500 pounds a week, which isn't a lot on my wage.
However, it takes it's toll on my body. I'm fine the next morning, but my eyes start going more and more inside the cave and it looks like I'm not keeping them open. My circles look like they're forming eyes of their own, with eyelids and everything. I find it hysterical. My colleagues do not.
But that's not my biggest problem.
I fell one early morning and I started throwing up. I couldn't get up, or on my knees. I had my head tilted to the right side everything came pouring out, like a faucet that has the handle broken and the only way to stop it is to turn it off from the main valve. Only I didn't have one.
As I was flooding the street, I heard the ambulance arrive. That stupid blue light flashed right on my eyes; both real and fake. Next thing I know my body was surrounded by boots. I could hear their voices, but it was obvious that I couldn't speak.
Two guys grabbed and lifted me by the arms, and I continued gushing. They brought a bloody bucket. If I wasn't so sick I would've laughed.
I passed out afterwards since I don't remember anything else apart from me waking up in the hospital with a couple of wires plugged in my left arm, in a dark room, with a particular stench coming from underneath the duvet that covered me. It was fart; somehow it was nice, like when you grab a fresh bread that you see its hot air bubbling out and you break it in half and sniff that vapid stuff until you smile and relax. Don't look at me like that. I'm sure you do it, too.
Nurse arrives and tells me that I have a liver problem, so I have to stop with the alcohol. I'll also be detained in here for at least a few days.
I told her it'd get boring fast. She said she has board games.