I can't smell puke

but I'm sure that if I still could, any waterfall-ish sounds accompanied by splatters of food remains are going to wrinkle my nose.

I recall buckets of copperish fluid upchucking from the entrance of this male's oral cavity. It collected into a puddle on the 20 year old charcoal blue carpet, freefalling vomit ricocheting off the gathered waste and splashing onto the nearby wall and desk side. Occasionally, the sickly moron's green face would angle upwards like a hinge to look at me, only to be followed by a bulging-eyed expression as he realizes there's more coming. I'm not sure if he could recognize that he had an audience. So much puke poured from his mouth that the arch of his shoulders would rise every so often as I visualized the beer-pizza-allAmericancollegestudentdiet mixture snaking through his esophagus and erupting when it seized the chance.

What's ridiculous about it all is that I was sitting on a couch and he basically sticks his head through the divide in the wall because he couldn't find a wastebasket.

Lovely lovely freshmen dorms.

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I don't (want to) have a picture for this entry.