Some Friday. Just working/waiting for your shift to end, and then not worry for a couple of days about what time you need to wake up. And as you crawl through which ever task you’re supposed to do, you glance and glare at the time that seems to be moving as slow as you are, you look forward to that oasis of time known as Lunch.
Fifteen minutes till noon, so close to lunch time. David was at his desk looking over different reports on his dual-monitors, a wall of spreadsheets. He would look at one row in one spreadsheet, analyze it and commit several details to memory and crosscheck the info with another spreadsheet. On a third spreadsheet he would write the date and name of the file and his findings – pass or fail – any issues – etcetera. He would go through one file and check the time on his phone, which was just a watch since he didn’t get any reception in his building. Another file, check the time, another file, attempt to resist checking the time, then check the time. Eventually, after two or three files depending on the findings, a minute would pass by.
At 11:55 a.m. people would get up and either go to the bathroom or walk to a coworker’s desk pretending to have an important work-related question, all in hopes that by the time they got back to their desk it would be 11:59 a.m.. And some, typically the senior employees, were good at it and would come back to their desk at 11:59:30 a.m. to get set, ready, and wait for the go. The new employees were still paranoid and unsure about the way time worked and would get back to their desk too early, at 11:57 a.m. or 11:58 a.m.. And what’s the point of working for two or three minutes? But its long enough to make the wait painful. Or their confidence worked against them so they end up coming back to their desk a few minutes past 12:00 p.m. and though their lunch would still be an hour, anywhere they would go would have a long line.
David would probably fall under that last group, but he didn’t want to be a part of any. For the last five minutes, he instead stayed at his desk suffering time while he watched the shameless and choreographed attempts at excusable procrastination.
Then it was 12:00 p.m. and almost in unison, the employees stood up and stepped out of their cubicles, you’d think they would all walk out in some orderly line with a synced stride and all. But instead they all went in different directions depending where they parked or what they were doing for lunch. What started as orderly soldiers ended up as headless chickens getting in each-others’ way, going back and forth because somebody forgot their wallet or purse or phone or car-keys or to clock-out for lunch.
David waited by the north side exit of the building with his coworker/friend, they waited for another coworker/friend that had gone to the bathroom and misjudged how long it would take him to pee. The three of them eventually made it out into the parking lot and got into Abe’s car, David’s coworker/friend.
“Hey, are you sure you want to try this thing?” Abe said as he pulled out of the parking lot and made a right turn onto the street. The restaurant they were going to would be a straight shot.
“Try what?” asked Hank, the other friend riding shotgun as he put on his seat belt.
“This guy wants to do the spicy challenge at Shotgun today,” said Abe as he stopped at a red light.
From the back seat, looking through his emails on his phone, David said “I’m just going to try it. If it’s too much, I’ll just stop and order something else.”
“Hold up,” Hank said to both of them and half way turned back in his seat to face David, “You’re going to try it right now? For Lunch?” he said with a hint of surprise and mostly concern.
“Yeah, when else? I’m not going to drive all the way over here during my off-time just to try a challenge I might not finish,” said David in a matter-of-fact sort of way, or more commonly known, in a dick-ish way.
“But it’s Lunch, we have to go back to work after.”
“That’s what I told him,” Abe said as he kept driving.
“They don’t recommend you go back to work after doing it.”
“I told him that too.”
“People have needed to get their stomach pumped after.”
They pulled into the parking lot.
“It’ll be fine,” David said, “I’ll know after the first bite whether I’ll be able to finish it or not. If the first piece is too much, I’ll just stop and order off the menu.”
They parked, stepped out of the car and walked over to the building with the large red neon sign above the door that read SHOTGUN SUSHI.
David opened the door for the other two as Hank said, “You sure about this? I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”
“That’s sort of the point,” David said.
The restaurant was your standard sushi place, nothing too exciting or particularly note worthy. There was the sushi bar against the wall adjacent to the kitchen with stools all around it and wooden tables and chairs along the rest of the walls. The walls themselves were decorated with the typical paper lamps and Japanese banners to add atmosphere or whatever.
Abe went up to the register, which was immediately to the left as soon as you walked in, “Hi, I called a while ago and placed an order, should be under Abe” he said to the girl behind the register.
“Oh right,” she stepped out from behind the register and started walking towards a table, “right over here, we have the table ready, it was two lunch specials, right?”
“Yeah,” Abe replied and the three of them sat at a table along the wall.
“And you said one of you wanted to try the spicy challenge? That’s you, right?” She said to David who was the only one at the table without food in front of him.
“Yup, that’s me,” David said.
“Alright, I’ll be right back.” She walked away back to the register.
“You guys can start eating,” David said to Abe and Hank, “this might take a while.”
The other two agreed and began eating. The girl came back with a sheet of paper and pen.
“You have to read and sign this, it pretty much says we’re not responsible for any bodily harm that you might get from the challenge. You also have to pay before we can start making it, it’s twenty dollars.”
David grabbed the sheet of paper and pen, started looking it over while he took out his wallet. It more or less said what she mentioned, but in more words to exaggerate clarity. At the end of the sheet, right before he signed, it read “I _______________, am a moron and hereby agree to abide by this document.”
He signed it and gave her the sheet with the pen and the twenty dollars.
“You’re going to regret this, David,” said Abe.
“I’ll add it to the list,” replied David with a shit-eating-grin.
The waitress went over to the prep-station behind the sushi bar and, from the looks of it, told the chef some guy over there was going to try the spicy challenge as she pointed to their table. The chef looked over and gave this sort of concerned look with a nervous smile, then motioned over one of the other chefs to get some of the ingredients. They began clearing some space on the counter and taking out little bottles and cookware to make what would be the spicy sauce that’s put people in the hospital. It’s was just regular salmon sushi, but the challenge was in the spicy sauce. All the ingredients aren’t known, but ghost pepper extract was one of the things mentioned. It was some mixture of powders and liquids, as deadly to make as it was to eat. The chef, while making this stuff, wore latex gloves as if the concoction would burn your skin if it got to it. As chili powder was added to the mix, some of the powder must’ve gone up and the chef inhaled some, he was coughing uncontrollably for a couple of minutes and coughing more or less controllably for a couple more. The other chefs made sure not to be around the guy while he was making this.
Other people in the restaurant started to take notice that something was going on and soon enough the whole restaurant knew David was going to attempt a culinary suicide of sort. The waitress came over and told him it was almost ready.
“When you attempt the challenge we’re going to have to sit you over there,” she pointed towards the restrooms where there was a small table with a single chair, this thing even had a stage.
“Just in case you have to use the restroom. Also, if you don’t finish it, we can’t let you take it home, sorry,” she added.
“I wouldn’t want to take it home if I can’t finish it,” replied the smug bastard.
The chef was done coughing, the rest of the guys were half way done eating, David took his daunting seat, the dish was done. Two things were brought to him as his friends and other people there looked on, a Styrofoam box and a bucket with a plastic bag in it opened over the rim. David looked at the bucket with concern and hoped he wouldn’t have to use that. The waitress put the bucket on the floor and the box in front of David, she was also wearing latex gloves.
“Should I be wearing some of those?” asked David as he looked at her hands.
She smiled and said no, “These are just for our safety, so we don’t accidentally touch it and get it on something else.
After setting the box down, she explained the rules of the challenge to him again. He only had 20 minutes to finish the six pieces of sushi and had to wait an additional 20 minutes after finishing before he could take a drink of water or anything else or go to the bathroom in attempts to get rid of it through one end or the other.
David took a look at his watch, he would have to finish it, if he could, in ten minutes so he could wait the twenty and still get back to work on time. But still, that first bite would determine everything. He thanked her and got ready.
It was a weird red, to call it a single color wouldn’t be fair actually. The chili sauce they had made, the venom he had ordered, was more than one reds. When mixing it, the different chilies must have fought with one another for dominance and all that was left were the casualties, there were no survivors. It had 3 different kinds of reds, one was obviously the base, water with a decent squirt of red #6 food coloring. And another liquid had been attempted to be forced to mix with base, this was a more blood red, it was thicker and brighter. The two didn’t really mix so much as they made a swirl. Then there were these little specks of red, dark wine red, they were probably no bigger than a grain of sand.
He broke the wooden chopsticks apart, picked up one of the sushi pieces and took a few sniffs, naturally. It was obviously spicy, but it didn’t strike him as deadly. David hadn’t smelled something like that before, but it didn’t seem particularly stronger than anything else. He wondered where all the coughing came from, and figured the mixing probably had something to do with it, the real hell was trapped in the flavor and not the scent.
Looking at it, he considered just taking a bite but decided against it. A bite would hold too much promise, either a negative or positive promise, but too much regardless. Too much promise kills your sense of judgment and reestablishes the senses. If he should fail, he would at least eat one piece. He looked at the piece he was holding, and then past it to the other five, and then placed the sushi in his mouth.
The first taste was the rice, naturally. It didn’t take long for the salmon and spice flavor to set in. It was without a doubt the hottest thing he’d ever eaten. He chewed quickly and swallowed and waited. It was setting in, the heat began to smolder his taste buds. The heat grew exponentially, but luckily was contained to his tongue and lips. His throat was not on fire, nor was his nose struggling to breath from proverbial smoke. It was just his tongue that really suffered.
He must have sat there after the first piece for three minutes. And in that time, his tongue transformed into fire. First was just a slight spiciness that lasted maybe five seconds, it was slightly sweet even. Then the real heat began, the next half minute the heat increased to where his tongue felt waves of heat come and go. The waves would subside and return stronger and faster, there was a storm of fire just beginning. Eventually the waves stopped and it was just a consistent heat so intense that he began losing feeling in his tongue. He felt as though pins had been stuck through every nerve and taste bud of his mouth. He could move it, he knew he could, but he couldn’t really feel the movement. Any attempt to move his tongue felt false and only seemed to make the fire worse, this lasted a minute. Then the fire whirl peaked to the point he imagined his tongue felt like a red hot iron being hammered into form and thrown back into the fire. For half a minute he imagined his mouth as red hot ore, on the verge of melting. During this time, his feeling was returning, which made it infinitely worse. It was no longer just heat, it was pain. The next minute or so was him coming to grasps with it, feeling it slowly calm down. He kept his composure throughout, but only because he couldn’t figure out how he could scream with so much fire in his mouth. Throughout the three minutes, the waitress asked a few times if he was alright and he nodded in assurance. That’s when he gave up.
“I won’t be able to do this,” he told the waitress.
“You sure?” she asked and he nodded.
“Yeah, maybe with more time, but definitely not now.”
She said ok and cleared the table with the toxic sushi, throwing everything away.
Some random person called out saying, “C’mon, that was just one piece!”
David smiled with his burning lips and said, “You try just one piece.”
He asked if he could have one, they wouldn’t let him, but the chef assured him it was powerful. David went over to sit with his friends, still feeling the effect of his bad decision. The guy eventually convinced the chef to add a drop of the sauce to a piece of his sushi. He ate it and began coughing and exhaling deeply, as if trying to take in cool air and blow out the heat. The guy turned to David and nodded as if apologizing, David did the same.
“How do you feel?” asked Abe.
“Huh?” replied David, feeling the heat sink into his gut and turn from what was fire into some kind of ooze, slowly churning lava. Since he didn’t really eat anything, he wasn’t full, so he felt as if the molten ooze was just dripping along the walls of his stomach.
“How do you feel? Doin’ alright?”
“Yeah, I’m ok,” saying the ok with a bit of discomfort. “I think a grenade might’ve gone off in my stomach,” David said semi-jokingly. He wondered if the ooze he felt along the walls of his stomach could be blood, but dismissed the thought immediately as he realized how stupid it was.
Both Abe and Hank laughed. “Man, I can’t believe you even tried it. It’s cool though, you’re doing alright, I’ve seen people pretty much collapse after eating one piece like you.”
“That ain’t very comforting,” David said as the waitress brought him some complimentary ice cream for deliberately trying to kill himself by testing his immunity to poison.
He picked up the plate from the table and ate it like some starving person in hopes it would stop whatever the hell was going on in his guts. It helped for a minute or two, but the cooling feeling faded. David considered asking for more, but hesitated and reconsidered once he realized the grenade going off in his stomach wasn’t a result of the spiciness of what he’d eaten. This was an after effect, a repercussion. This was what he really had done to himself by eating the skull & crossbones, the price of his bravery and foolishness.
Sitting there, with an empty plate of ice cream in front of him, he focused on his breathing. It’ll pass, he figured, it’ll end. Breathing deeply, he focused with expert detail, trying to somehow overcome this.
Lunch was ending, 12:42 p.m..
“You guys want to hit up the 7-11 real quick before we head back?” asked Hank.
Abe didn’t mind and David instinctively agreed though he didn’t want to move as he was still concentrating on not being in the slight but noticeable pulsing pain he was in. Realizing he’d agreed, David got up with the other two and walked over to the register to pay their bills. As soon as he got up he realized whatever was wrong with him could get worse. Standing up opened or cracked or broke or tore something right above his stomach, below his heart, between his lungs, in a once empty unused space of body. The worst of what he had hadn’t hit him till then, the worst had somehow stored and hid itself. Being seated had prevented it, standing up had undone it, a valve had opened. A small valve and it had only opened a small bit once he stood up, and it dripped death. Just a single small drop of what David though was acid dripped from the valve and it made a tiny splash at the very top of his stomach. And it was almost crippling, though it hit at the top, he felt it all through his core as it contracted and cringed. He took a few steps, hunched, scared to stand up straight because the valve might drip again. Considering it may have passed, he stood up straight again and the valve reminded him of pain, hunched again. He eventually made his way to the register and out the door.
The 7-11 was in the same little plaza as the sushi restaurant, just a few storefronts over. David was able to make it to the entrance but decided not to go inside.
“Hey guys,” he told Abe and Hank, “I’ll be out here,” he reached into his shirt’s front pocket, “I’m going to finish my lunch.”
David took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
“You’re killing yourself!” screamed Hank, in a joking patronizing way, as if he’d said the same line before.
“Yeah, a lot of that today.”
Abe and Hank went inside and David leaned against the wall of the 7-11, next to the buy-one-get-one-free energy drink ad. He took out a cigarette from the pack, placed it between his lips, and grimaced. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, he figured this could make it worse. Or it might help, it might also just do nothing but the usual lung cancer etcetera. The lighter was unresponsive, cheap .50 cent lighter. He hunched and covered the lighter in front of the cigarette with one hand as if the non-existing wind was preventing the fire. But it did eventually light. He lit the cigarette and leaned back against the wall as he tried to inhale. He blew out the smoke right away, it didn’t even make it to his lungs. The poison he’d taken earlier dripped down onto his innards again and reminded him that he should probably deal with one course at time.
He was in too much pain now to even consider trying to inhale again, the pain was getting worse with every drop of acid that fell on his guts. David put out the cigarette against the wall and went inside 7-11 hunched over to look for Abe. When he got inside, he stopped just past the door, partly from pain and partly from fear of just losing it. He figured if he were to collapse from pain, what better place than near the door, if he had to run outside and vomit, what better place than near the door.
Getting worse still, time seemed to slow down with the pain, he was getting anxious and sweating slightly. The pain was starting to show with every breadth he took, the inhale spread the pain while the exhale solidified it. His mind began to race, scenarios of whatever the hell could be wrong with him started to manifest. Maybe something popped, some internal organ, something was broken. Maybe he tore his stomach wall, or esophagus, or something that caused blood and pain. Maybes and more maybes, none of them good, all of them hurt.
He could bare it still, but felt he was approaching a breaking point of sorts. Signaling Abe and Hank to walk over to him, he told them, “Hey, you guys almost done? I’m not feeling all that great.”
Noticing the pain in his face, Abe said with a slight panicked rush, “Yeah, man, let me just pay for this. Here, take the keys, we’ll be out in a sec.”
David grabbed the keys and walked towards the door, he wished he were closer to the door, like before. But he made it, holding his stomach as if that somehow helped. He made it to the car, got in the back seat, and threw the keys onto the driver’s seat. Abe and Hank got to the car a minute later. They got in the car, Abe grabbed his keys and started the car.
“Damn! You alright?” said Hank, looking at the back seat where David was practically in the fetal position.
“I might’ve,” and he paused due to the pain, “made a really bad decision,” he ended with a grimace on his face.
“Shit, is it bad?” asked Abe, who now seemed in a rush as he pulled out of the parking space and drove towards the exit of the plaza. Hank began to laugh, because of both the situation and nervousness.
“Well,” he grunted, “it feels bad.”
“How bad? Hospital bad? Bathroom bad?” He turned onto the street and toward the office. Hank kept laughing.
“Not sure,” he tried sitting up and dropped back down, holding his stomach with both hands, “not hospital bad though. Just take me back to the office.”
“You got it, we’re almost there, I’ll drop you off on the other side.”
“That works.” The entrance on the other side of the building had a bathroom right by the door, so it was more convenient for David.
Hank kept laughing.
“God-damn-it, Hank, quit it!” said Abe.
“It’s alright,” David said as Hank tried to stop, “I’d probably be laughing too if my stomach hadn’t exploded.” Hank stopped trying to stop laughing.
They got back to the office and David was dropped off at the other side, he got out of the car and tried to keep it together. He walked up to the door, only slightly holding his stomach, but the sweat from the pain was noticeable, it was a good thing there was really nobody there to notice. The security guard didn’t notice him and the hall was empty so it was a short straight shot to the bathroom.
There were three stalls in the bathroom, and being the 21st century, one of those was the handicap accessible stall, the good stall. David managed to get some good luck as the good stall was vacant, he took his pain inside.
He pulled down his pants and took a seat, hunched over it didn’t hurt so much. All he had to do was relieve himself of the toxic garbage he’d just eaten, that’s what he figured at least. Taking a crap had fixed hangovers-etcetera, he figured as soon as he passed the vile sushi the pain would stop or at least not interfere so much. He pushed an obscene and hilarious amount, his teeth gnashed, his muscles in his upper body grew tense and flexed as if to help push down and out. Inhale and push, inhale and push, but nothing. Handicapped bathrooms have rails along the side at waist level, David grabbed on to those while seated so as to somehow get more leverage and push harder. But nothing helped, he’d only eaten one piece of sushi and some ice cream all day, and they were nowhere near the end of the digestive system. There was nothing to expel, he figured as much but didn’t stop trying. He would sweat and get tired, then he’d stop and lean back. As he leaned back the valve opened again and more acid or venom or whatever the hell was killing him dripped down and hit his guts again. And again he would hunch over. About an hour had passed since he’d gotten back from lunch, 2:00 p.m..
While he was hunched over, the pain would fade almost completely. Then he’d sit up and it would come back instantly. He tried that between every massive push to shit. Push, fail, pain subsided, sit up, hunch over, and repeat. Nothing every time. After a few cycles of this, he remained hunched over for a good while thinking the pain would eventually go away altogether if he remained hunched over. Once he felt he might stand a chance, he sat up. It worked, he was able to sit up straight on the toilet and stand up even. David moved slowly with caution, he put his pants on and opened the door to the stall, there wasn’t anybody else in the bathroom. He waked over to the sinks to wash his hands and splash water on his face, he saw himself in the mirror and acknowledged that he looked just plain awful, as if he’d been up all night doing some kind of drug. Giving his bloodshot eyes a closer inspection in the mirror, he got a familiar feeling in his gut. The pain was coming back, he looked over to the exit, considered making a run to his desk. If he got there and just sat down and hunched over for the rest of the day the pain would subside and he’d be able to finish his shift, go home, and try to take a shit there.
David had already spent over and hour in there, his boss probably asked about him by now, or found out about his terrible decision making skills. He considered going back, he began to walk towards the exit, he could only handle a few steps. The poor guy didn’t even make it to the door before his guts started to smolder again and he went back into the stall.
But this time he didn’t pull his pants down, it didn’t work and it probably wasn’t going to work. He knew the next alternative, drag it out the same way it came in. Lifting up the seat, he kneeled and regretted being bold.
The sounds he made were terrible, a gagging, gurgling, coughing, and spitting sound. A diseased sound. He stuck two fingers down his throat as far as he could for as long as he could until he had to spit or cough. There was no method this time like before, he just kept trying, taking breaks only to wipe spit from his lips and chin. And though at first there was nothing, eventually he felt a movement in his innards at the top of his stomach. More determined now, he went on trying to vomit, and eventually did. It wasn’t a lot, but it happened, but it was also disappointing. It was green, he had thrown up a puddle of green bile, light green to be specific. David knew that wasn’t it, it should be red, one of the various shades of red he ingested. Or pieces of rice, or salmon, anything but pastel green. That’s when he remembered the ice-cream, the last thing he actually ate, it was green because it’s a Japanese restaurant and of course their ice-cream would be green tea flavored.
He felt defeated, he was unable to get rid of what he thought was killing him, or at least wrecking his digestive system. The sushi wasn’t far along enough in this digestive system to be shat out, but was far along enough to not be thrown up, and was still trying to kill him. He tried throwing up a couple more times and gave up, then he grabbed some toilet paper and wiped clean his fingers and mouth. Having given up and still in considerable pain, David brought the seat back down and sat on the toilet with his pants on and hunched over. Except hunching over wasn’t helping as much now, he began to panic, there was no way to subside the pain now. It seemed to get worse, he considered the possibility that he might’ve made it worse by trying to throw up. He checked the time on his phone, 2:35 p.m., and then he considered calling for help. An ambulance was an option, he’d been in pain for almost 2 hours now, it was warranted if anything. He considered the possibility of something seriously being wrong with him, not just pain, but an issue with an organ or something. So he gave in to his concern for his own wellbeing and tried calling 9-1-1, the phone rang once and then the call was dropped. He’d forgotten there was no reception in his building, if he died he could blame his cell phone service provider. Though emergency calls should go through even without reception, maybe the call center just (accidentally) hung up. He couldn’t really worry about it anyway, he was too busy being crippled by scorching pain inside a handicapped bathroom stall. David was going over his alternatives to just sitting there, of which there weren’t many, he pretty much had to make a run for it. He would either make a run for the outside of the building where he would have reception but was in the opposite direction of his desk, or he would go to his desk and assure everyone he was alive and make the call from his desk phone, but his desk was farther than the outside. Standing up, slightly hunched to try and calm the hurt, he made his way out the stall and towards the bathroom exit. He wasn’t sure which way he was going with, but wanted to see if he could at least make it out the bathroom first.
Though his guts hurt like hell, he did actually make it out of the bathroom this time. He could tell from the pain that he wouldn’t make it to his desk without doubling over and just falling on the floor, or at least that was the image in his head. So he made his way towards the exit he came in through as fast as he could, which considering the pain, wasn’t very fast. But he did make it outside where he sat down on a piece of lawn in the parking lot. He wasn’t sure if it was the walk or the fresh air or maybe magic, but the pain was starting to go down again as he was hunched over. It didn’t go down to a point of comfort or reassurance for his life, but he took it. He took out his phone and considered calling 9-1-1 again, but decided against it, he just wanted to lay down and rest. Instead he called his boss and told her he had to take the day off due to medical reasons, he then called his brother and asked for a ride.
“Yeah, what do you want, loser?”
“Lucas, I need a favor, man. Are you out of work yet?”
“Just got out, what is it?”
“I need a ride, I feel like crap, think you can give me a lift back home? I’ll cover your gas or whatever.”
“I tried the spicy challenge at Shotgun. It hasn’t gone well since.”
“Ugh, Dumbass. I have to go on the freeway for that.”
“It’s an emergency! I already told my boss I’m leaving.”
“Fine, but you owe me food, bitch.”
“Sure-sure, I’m in the first parking lot you see when you’re heading here.”
“Alright, I’ll call you when I’m near.”
His brother got there relatively fast all things considered, it was now 3:something p.m., he’d spent about two hours in the bathroom trying whatever might work. He got in the car and his brother handed him a bottle of milk and a banana,
“Here, this should help.”
David told Lucas about the challenge but skipped the ordeal in the bathroom because who would want to know all that. Lucas mostly made fun of him but asked repeatedly if he’d rather go to a hospital instead since David was still clearly in pain. David just wanted to go home and said the milk and banana were helping. The closer he got home the better he felt, maybe it was just a Friday thing, but the pain was definitely lessening.
Once he got home, David went straight to his bed to lay down and curled up into the fetal position. He wasn’t hurting as much like this, the pain would slowly go away and he’d fall asleep for a little bit. But the sleep didn’t last, once he would actually be sleeping, he would stretch out his body like he would normally sleep. And as soon as he would stretch out, the pain would come back, and he’d wake up with a shooting pain in his gut. He did this a few times until he eventually woke up stretched out in his bed without any pain. Noticing the pain was finally gone, he tried getting up and standing straight, also no pain. Though his body, especially his core, was tired and sore from hurting for so long.
He walked around the house a bit, drank some water and ate a piece of bread just to test his stomach, everything seemed ok. It was around nine, David went back into his room to grab a jacket and his cigarettes then went outside to the backyard. He sat down and lit a cigarette, he noticed his throat was sore with every inhale, probably from trying to vomit and vomiting. He was a few drags away from finishing when Lucas walked outside too.
“Sup, dumbass. What you up to?”
“Finishing my lunch.”