Fury
by John.e.Normal
"You used my fucking toothbrush," Kylie screamed at the top of her lungs. I sat bolt upright and smacked my forehead on the metal bars under the bunk bed above me.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" I yelled over the top of Kylie's ongoing abuse. I rolled sideways holding my head and tried to stand. My guts were still full of beer and the rest of me was not impressed. The room rolled around as I staggered into the bathroom.
"Look!" she screamed, holding the mangled toothbrush in front of me. I pushed her arm away and continued into the first stall where I fell on my knees in front of the toilet. My stomach gave a reflex spasm and the fetid remains of last night's binge came up my throat and into the toilet bowl.
"That is just fucking lovely," Kylie exclaimed.
I spat out the remaining stomach acids and then flushed the evidence away. I sat back on the cold tiles and looked out at Kylie. She was stomping around in her cotton Hello Kitty undies and my Black Sabbath t-shirt. Fuck I love this girl, I thought to myself.
"I need to eat some chips," I told her, "you want something?"
She paused, and stared at herself in the mirror with her head tilted to one side. Her eyes squinted a little as if she was looking at something standing on a mountain in the distance. She leaned into the mirror and examined a pimple on her forehead.
"Fuck it," she said, "yeah, get me a Chiko Roll."
"Alright," I replied, climbing to my feet.
In the hallway outside of the dormitory I could hear music coming from the common room. I trudged past the other dorms trying to remember which one I saw those Swedish girls come out of. Talk about heaven on legs- long, tanned, lovely muscles- I wanted to bite them. I'd better not let Kylie see me looking at them, I thought to myself. Eurobitches, I think she called them.
The couches were all empty. The TV sat tirelessly presenting the empty room with a test pattern and a background track of music so easy listening you had to be careful your heart didn't stop. I walked over to the front counter. The seat was empty. Half a cup of coffee, with a thin brown film on top of it, sat in a mug beside the computer. I prodded it compulsively with my finger and a cigarette butt bobbed to the surface.
"Ian," I called, "Judy." I listened. "Where the fuck are youse?"
I heard a noise coming from the back office, a groan. I saw the silhouette of a figure standing up and shambling toward the door. I laughed.
"Fuck me Ian, what were you drinking last night?"
A deathly groan was the only response I got.
I laughed hard. "Shit mate," I said. "You are making me feel fantastic about the state of my guts."
He reached the door and I could hear him fumbling for the doorknob.
"Jesus mate," I said walking around the counter. "You need to go back to bed."
I opened the door and smiled at him. His shaggy black hair hung down over his face, but between the strands I could see blood everywhere.
"Fuck mate, what happened?"
