SUBSTITUTE RPSI JUDGE #AZ ENTERING THE SCENE
fight 1
HWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
man i sure was drunk. spittle and phlegm crowned the crusty toilet bowl that i clung to desperately, fingers struggling for purchase on piss-stained porcelain. the name of this particular dump i had chosen to be mildly narcaleptic in was the rainbow curtain, though when i pulled up my horribly blurred vision was just enough to make out the state the neon sign had been left in, the r dangling on its hinges at a dangerous angle and all of the letters past the t inactive.
i'd waltzed into the rainbow cunt on two feet, and neither of those worked now. it was a metaphor for this inescapble k-hole of my life, nothing but a merit badge for knot tying to my name from the last year of adult scouts, and even that served only as a bitter reminder of my ex-wife; "you're too busy tying knots that you won't tie me!" were her last words, or something to that effect. the wretching ceased momentarily, the acidic burning in my gut subsiding for but a moment, and i was able to raise my head. i caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mix of toilet water and puke. eyes so far apart i could barely see them both in the bowl at the same time lest i moved my head back, and when i tried that i immediately regretted it. a shot of pain filled my head like a leaden weight, and i settled with resting a grotty cheek on the bowl's edge like a makeshift pillow and let unconsciousness seize me.
~~~~~~~~~~~
when i awoke bleary-eyed, it was definitely worse. the pain in my entrails had gone, but the poison had transferred wholesale to my head, and i felt like only my toes to my shoulders were my own; the mass above (and what a fucking great mass it was! shit, i never paid attention to those high school dipshit nerds spouting tired facts about it being the heaviest part of the body before, but christ did i know it now) a timebomb with a counter glitched constantly at 0:01 and 0:00. i didn't know now whether i wanted it to go off or not.
there was a heavy knocking at the door. i opened my mouth to speak but sick had glued my jaw fast and the exertion caused me to topple over backwards. i lay in the wake of that mistake a moment longer, and it was clear my unidentified guests had heard it too. the irate knocking had stopped, and a muffled discussion took place outside. as i lay there - barely sentient - it occurred to me that whomever was outside that door and trying to get in was probably somebody that i didn't want doing so. i genuinely couldn't recall anything about my journey back to the motel before careening into the car park, and as such couldn't confirm that i hadn't killed anybody on my way back. or beforehand. i was a hideous power rangers-esque monster, after all.
my thoughts were arrested by a jarring crash. the proximity of the sound of hurried footsteps suggested they'd broken down the door to my hole for the night, though considering the condition of the door that wasn't saying much. i lolled my head a little further back and gazed through the coloured spots and stars infesting my vision at the crack between the bathroom floor and its door, the singular, undisturbed ray of light there broken by the shadows of my would-be-could-be(probably-should-be) assailants. yes. they were inside.
had i been able to move i can't say that i would have, but at that moment the honest truth was that i could not. i lay there, spread-eagled at the base of my puke-filled toilet and stared up at the ceiling (at the operative word, as the state of my vision was deteriorating) as i listened to the sound of their rummaging. i was sure at any moment they would blast in overhead, and what would kill me would not be their kicks and gouges but the sudden violent disturbance eviscerating my brain from within. i was also aware that there was a possibilty i would die without them even finding me, my consciousness swimming in an endless toxic sea of ethanol.
but i didn't.
and they did not enter, either. the banter between the hyperactive and squealy black and the woman - as i had now discerned - stretched on and on, but not once did the attempt to enter the bathroom. and then, finally, miraculously, the sounds faded. the voices became quiet, and then eventually silent.
i had escaped death.
narrowly, but it was an escape.
in my glee a surge of excitement fueled my wretched state. i found myself able to rise. the sudden shift of weight sent my hangover squealing back into my bowels and i scrambled to my feet, ready to squat (i did not want to set my cheeks in the grimy mess i had left) over the bowl and release a barrage worse than napalm, but horror seized my many bodily eyes as i saw the toilet paper dispenser.
empty.
i bolted for the door and cannoned out of the bathroom, eyes darting to and fro. memories of my journey home flooded my brain. i had bought some, hadn't i? it was not rare for me to be so shitfaced as to need to use all of the toilet roll in a stingy joint like this, and so i had learnt the hard way to become accustomed to "providing" for myself.
there!
there!
i grasped for the plastic covered tubes of pearly salvation, nestled snugly on the roach-riddled bed and half-ran half-jamboled back into the bathroom. tobacco-encrusted fingernails tore through the packaging as i fell backwards onto the toilet bowl, no longer concerned about the mess. i had paper! it would all be okay! i had paper!
in actuality it was not napalm, after all.
it was hiroshima.
for some time i sat, recuperating. i had shat the shit of shits. i had exorcised myself of the foulest demon. and i felt better for it. i realised now that with my body's needs sated, fatigue was overtaking me. with a smile now upon my dopey, grotesque features i set to work cleaning my rectum. vigorously. without a though. i was intent upon getting the job done. i was sore from the expulsion, and the sooner i could be done with the ordeal, the better. it was in this flurry of rubbing that from where i half-sat half-hovered on the toilet seat with the bathroom door still ajar i spied something most terrible.
a pristine, unopened, untouched pack of toilet paper, placed not on my bed, but on the dresser opposite.
this wasn't my toilet paper after all, was it?
Winner:
Hurricane Mulan, a storm
-as swift as the coursing river
-with all the force of a great typhoon
-(with) all the strength of a raging fire
-(as) mysterious as the dark side of the moon
+
Sandpaper cleverly disguised as toilet paper
fight 2 soon to come
