This
is my favourite puke story ever. Friend of mine spent a joyous Friday night getting completely slaughtered at the local crap disco. She staggered into the room she shared with her sister at about two a.m. and did that thing you do when you're really, really drunk where you just sort of lie there, absolutely unable to sleep but too hopelessly plastered to do anything else but lie there not moving and hope the spinning stops soon.

As usually happens, after about half an hour of this she felt really, really sick, but knew she was far too drunk to make it to the loo, as she felt she'd done astonishingly well to make it as far as her room. So she decided the only sane thing to do was puke into her handbag, which she located in the dark and filled to the brim with bilious heaves.

She wakes up about nine the next morning, with an inner groan of "oh fuck, I threw up in my handbag last night, didn't I?". She fishes it out from under the bed and gingerly opens it to be confronted with... her makeup, her purse, some keys, a packet of tissues and a couple of condoms.

As she ponders the possibility that, finally, those weird supernatural beings that put your clothes in the fridge while you're sleeping off a massive bender had done something nice for a change and spirited her vom off to that place where the tenner you remember having in your pocket when you left the pub goes, the phone rings.

It is her sister.

She has just arrived at school.

And she has just opened her schoolbag.
(Wong Fei-Hung - now with added flickr.com (see profile), Fri 20 Aug 2004, 18:22, Reply)