puking on the legends

brandy is forever off my list of consumables. my intestines had the guts to puke on the shoes that belong to well-respected, much sought-after basketball legends. it escaped me that drowning bismuth could be messy and ugly. in the hazy, drunken state that i was in, the world was clearer ironically. but the wretching just couldn't be stopped. and that song that just kept ringing in my head, spinning, whirling, on and on, screamed the bedevil out of me.

three days the alcohol polluted my veins, messed up my system. but the outside looked as dandy as ever. bismuth the pretender could not be drowned.