Here’s a Story

by Noise Pollution

The other night, I took a double-dose of Ambien to really get myself to sleep. It maybe wasn’t my best idea. I awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, sat up, and experienced vomit pouring out of me and directly onto my shirt, sheets, and comforter. I phrased that sentence that way because it really didn’t feel like I threw up. It felt like this horrific mixture just fell out of me, like water from a pitcher. I mean, I literally sat up, went “bleh,” and then there was puke there. It wasn’t natural.

Yeah, I post a lot of stories about vomit. Apparently it’s one of the major pillars of my life. Gross.

Anyways, even in my ambien-induced drunken haze I knew I had to solve this problem immediately. I spent the next unquantifiable amount of time stripping my sheets, stripping off my shirt, and removing the rest of my bedding and dumped everything into the washing machine. Yeah. Chunks and all. Again, not my best idea, but at least for that one I was completely whacked out of my mind for. It wasn’t my fully-functioning brain that made that poor decision, it was my semi-functioning brain and I do laundry so infrequently that my common sense in that area wasn’t strong enough to prevent me from disgusting all over the place.

I had to rewash a lot of things in the morning. Mistakes were made. Puke is gross. The sensation of the puke coming out with literally no physicality as part of the sensation was maybe grosser than the puke itself. Cleaning up the washing machine debris was grosser than both of those things combined.

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