He's Something

Eight - A Nasty Spill

Eight • A Nasty Spill

"I think I'm gonna puke." John groans, rubbing his stomach.

"You didn't hav'ta eat with me and Yanna, you know." George chuckles, fiddling with his cup of cold water.

"I-I just joined in so I wouldn't have to eat later. Now I'm so full I think I'm gonna puke," John covers his mouth with his hands.

"Shall I get a paper bag for you, good sir?" I ask as I laugh at John who continued to sit on his chair, not even touching his utensils again.

"I don't know. Yeah, I prolly need some. If only you and Geo didn't have to cook so bloody well then I wouldn't have eaten as much." John growls.

"Not our fault that we're too bloody great chefs." George winks.

"Shu'up." John says grumpily, slouching on the chair.

"While you guys are getting ready for a sick guy to puke," Paul says, standing up from the couch.

"I'm gonna start bringin' the booze and have some fun while all of ye will hav'ta take care of this swine 'ere." Paul chuckles selflessly, opening the door.

"Booze?" I asked, scared if what he meant by 'booze' was alcoholic drinks like beer.

"Lighten up Yanna. It's just a few drinks of beer is all. Nothin' to worry about." Paul says, almost exiting the door.

"B-but I don't wanna try any Booz--"

"Good bye, Yanna." Paul salutes and closes the door.

I huff and sweat a bit. I didn't know they drank. But, they are my friends after all. So I should trust them.

Then again, my parents always told me to never drink.

But my parents are also the reason why I never have any fun.

And maybe drinking just a little wont do any harm. Right?

"Y-Yanna, will you please hurry! I'm trying to hold my puke fo' as long as I can here." John groans, his legs fidgeting below the table.

Without thinking anymore, I grab the paper bag that was stashed in one of the cabinets and ran to John quickly, giving him the bag.

But to my misfortune, I horribly fail in doing so.

"Sorry, I just went to the bathroom aga-"

Without having the time to finish his sentence, John fails to barf into the bag and begins to barf on to me instead!

John made a noise as he threw up on the floor, some of the bits splattering on my dress.

"John!" I squeal, bloody frozen on the floor, getting barfed at by a fucking teddy boy.

After he throws up his undigested food, he wipes it with his arm and looks at me in horror.

"Holy fucking shi--"

"Yanna! You're covered in muck!" George yells, shocked with the events he witnessed with his bare eyes.

"John, I'm covered in muck! What the bloody hell!" I was angry, just there on the floor, groaning while the rest of his thrown up food slithered down my dress.

"I-I'm sorry, Yanna. I didn't mean to! It's just that I have a sensitive stomach sometimes and--"

Without even listening to his apologies, I stand up an storm off upstairs and into the nearest room, stomping into the bathroom with what dignity I had left of.