Urgh...my head.
[The St. Patrick's Day celebration was a nice reminder of why he never drank. His head felt several sizes too small for his brain, eyes were watering freely for no reason save they were open, and his stomach was caught between wanting food tribute...and bringing bit of its contents up his neck partway.]I...am never...gonna drink...
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Comments 47
Awh, crap. [ she is soon crouching, rushing to pick everything up. ]
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You okay?
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Wh--wha?
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....Are you alright?
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Oh, me? Yeah, just celebrated a holiday a little too hard...[Wow, never knew colors could kaleidoscope like that.]
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Pickled plums might help with that. And tea.
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At night.
On the rooftops. That's kind of odd.*
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And here I thought I had seen everything on a rooftop before.
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My, and here I thought I wouldn't have to deal with bothersome passersby up here.
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Hoping a lot.
Hoping with waning hope.
In spite of this, she's sounding fairly chipper when she informs the guy she's passing; ]
Looks like someone had fun last night.
[ Fun's relative; drunks were fairly easy to manage, if you knew how. Hangovers were a bitch! If not as bad as withdrawals... ]
I think I saw some orange juice in one of the stores. Pickles, too.
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Oh, yeah, tons of fun. [Fun his stomach wanted to discard in the most violent and grotesque way.] Why pickles?
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Dunno, but they helped sometimes.
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