1 post tagged “primer”
I walk into the room across the hall from me and start pointing out character flaws. Everyone inside is fixated on the screen, where two battling figures dance in and out of combat. I point to Eric, the guy who sleeps in that room, and call him "too gamery." I pick on him, saying I used to be gamery, but now I go to the gym and better myself.
"At least you're not one of those asshole gamers," I inform him. I move on to Vanessa. She's too opinionated. Johnny doesn't get out enough. Brendan is creepy. "You're a creepy mother fucker" is what I say. Later, I sneak up behind him to emulate what he does to people. Sneaks up on them. Maybe not on purpose, but definitely on awkward. This is Hunter. Drunk Hunter. He's kind of an asshole, and he definitely lacks a filter. Not only for words, but apparently rice and red fruit juice.
A simple bottle of Odesse vodka completely consumed. Not just by me, but mostly so. My original intentions probably would have killed me. Split the handle between me and this cute girl from the dorm. Yes, 50% of 40% in a short time = deadly. Luckily, a friend from the dorm valiantly takes one for the team(or just my well-being) and helps us consume the substance. By this point, I'd guage my intoxication at Boisterous Drunk, feverishly working my way to Raving Lunatic.
At some point everyone leaves, and Raving Lunatic actually turns out to be Stumbles McPassout. Yeah, I remove my shoes, fall on my bed, and die.
Reborn around 2PM the next day, I am still not cleansed of my intoxication. I was still drunk, and liquids were sloshing in my stomach. Oh yeah, you know where this is going. And I did too on the bus back from our Dining Hall. The warning was something so typical and characteristic-- putting my forehead in my upward palms, stating "Oh God." As soon as those two words passed through my lips, I knew what was coming next.
The metallic tasting primer saturates my mouth, and I grit my teeth to hold back the flood gates. Johnny and I are one stop from our dorm. The doors open and the bus seems to rock for a second. I watch people board and see them as potential victims of my puke blast radius. I cannot throw up on the bus. My body cannot hold it back. I contemplate these two conflicting ideas for nearly too long. The engine revs up and the doors will close in a second. I charge upward and outward, telling Johnny that I'm walking the rest of the way. He doesn't understand my mumblings until seconds later he connects my statement with the sound of splattering rice, chicken, and red fruit juice on the paved sidewalk. The two girls in front of me fall prey to my fluids, turning, and quickly sidestepping the second wave. Feeling immediately better, I quickly stand up to save what little face I have left. Bad move, I puke some more. Take three steps, puke. Walk up to a bench, where a man in a green fleece sits. I puke all over the place by his feet. It looks like blood, and he looks pissed. He doesn't say anything, though.
Four times, four different puddles. Johnny walks up from the last bus stop to see if I'm alive. I am. I say to him that I drank way too much last night. Starting around 7PM and well into the morning hours, I know I've over-done it. Again. Because my character flaw is burning up, using up, and taking things to the extreme when they can be taken in moderation and still enjoyed. It's like the economy. Low times are forced so as to keep a moderate balance. If the economy is growing too strong, it will inevitably fail and fall into desperate lows. Thus, a tight wave pattern or frequency from one end to the next. To regulate. Regulation is something I understand. Moderation I get. But acting on them may never be something I'm good at. I will always burn up rather than rust out.
