What Did You Do Last Night?

This is an old exercise

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You reek of vomit, shit, jungle juice, cigarettes. You're absolutely trashed, with no sense of purpose beyond an explosion of pain, emitting from your head. What did you do last night? You can't exactly recall, beyond house hopping, sweaty, smokey garages, and then that random inclination to vomit. It's also in your bed.. You're inclined to clean it up, but you'd rather take a detour to get some painkillers, shower, and probably dispose of the clothes that you're wearing. Too bad. They're really nice, and a bit expensive. Maybe it can be salvaged, but then you have to handle that nasty shit on your shirt, like a chewed up, swallowed, regurgitated bean stalk, that tastes like pink lemonade, inexpensive vodka, and vomit.


Oh what did you do last night? It had to have been memorable, that is if you didn't black out, too much. You probably did though, hence why you're asking yourself, or to the angels above: What did you do last night? Maybe next time you'll cut back. You owe the angels at least that. They probably loathe you for prancing around the streets in awe and daze, your mind appearing to be as fast as a hummingbird. You forgot that you smoked weed, and probably took some kratom. You were a complete fiasco last night. You congratulate yourself.


You congratulate yourself for losing your glasses. You'll need those for tomorrow. Today you'll just look blind, particularly since you're inclined to go out for cigarettes. What did you do last night? You made an ass of yourself, and lost your glasses. You don't have a backup pair either. You can at least get cigarettes. You need cigarettes. But you also need to shower, and change clothes. Maybe you can clean up those clothes later, after a smoke. You deserve one. It was a hard evening, and the best way to kill the pain is to drown it with nicotine. You shed yourself of your clothing, and hide it, that foul and reeking ensemble, in your closet, never to be unearthed again. You'll clean it up later.