Coquettish

"You're coquettish."



"That's kind of fucked up. Like I do a lot of cocaine? I mean, maybe once or twice, but it's not like a regular thing."



"No. Not coke-headish. Coquettish. Listen to the sound of my voice."



"What does that even mean?"



"It means, get the fuck off me, you dirty dirty whore."

Sick

I woke up at midnight on Friday night. I had been sick with a cold for two days prior and my nose was crusty and I hadn't really eaten much more than soup and crackers. When I woke up on Friday night I felt as if there was a very large rock that had settled itself dead center in the middle of my guts. I climbed out of bed and went to the kitchen hoping that putting some food in my stomach might help sooth the ache. I was running very low on groceries at this point and decided that oatmeal was probably going to be my very best option as far as a midnight meal was concerned. That was about as far into the thought process as I got before I was running to the bathroom to expunge my system of the rock that I thought had settled in for the long haul. I realized that it wasn't a rock in my stomach when I came to the conclusion that the substance spraying out of my anus was in no way rock like. Quite the opposite of anything that might be considered a solid substance at all. There was very little in the gaseous form as well. It was pretty much all liquid feces. I'm quite certain that there may have been what might be considered a flake or two though, I didn't recall consuming anything flake-like at all prior to the experience that I was having. So I sat and waited for the rock to disperse, and when I felt it had sufficiently been relieved, I happily wiped away the dirty wetness from my buttcrack, washed my hands and went to the kitchen to continue the task of making oatmeal. I boiled the water, I poured it over the oatmeal and I sat and waited for it to cool. As I sat there waiting, I realized that when I had thought earlier that my stomach was in a condition to resume normal digestive processes, I may have been mistaken. I was once again making a bee-line for the toilet. I squirted out the remaining rock in my belly, washed my hands and went back to my oatmeal. I slowly and deliberately got about halfway through the bowl before a new feeling began to creep through my insides. I leaned back and took a deep breath. It slowly dawned on me that I was about to lose everything that I had just eaten. I once again headed towards the bathroom, this time with the knowledge that I was going to vomit for the first in many years not due to any sort of alcohol consumption. I was expecting a great deal of dry heaving, but what I got was quite a bit more. It seemed to be mostly the stale saltines that I had consumed only a few hours before in a solution that seemed to be mostly water. It had been all that I had been drinking for the last few hours as well. The feeling I had during the process was actually quite satisfying, which is not always the case when I'm regurgitating alcohol. The difference seemed to be the lack of a severe burning sensation. Though, during the process, there was some pressure put back on my bowels and there was a moment where I had to consider whether I should continue throwing up or spin around and shit some more. Luckily, the pressure was not overwhelming and I was able to control the situation with my sphincter. When the whole situation was over I actually felt quite relieved. I sat on the floor next to the toilet for a moment as is the normal process in any regurgitation situation. It was only a matter of time before the rock in my stomach reappeared and I was back sitting on the toilet, splashing ass piss into the porcelain throne. I wiped up, washed up and went back to my oatmeal. I considered eating it for all of about three seconds before I dumped the remainder into the trash. I was sick and I was going back to bed.