This is from one my Characters I like to write about.. He is a very colorful Indian (American) with a drinking issue.. I know .. I know.. STEREOTYPE! However.. His is not a drinking issue brought on from gambling or forgetting the old ways. He much like that stupid little kid... He sees dead people..and they annoy the living CRAP out of him.. So in this short blurb we find Marcus just waking from an adventurous night.
The piercing sound of the Sony alarm clock fills the room with a horrendous noise that no man can ever get use to. Nor do any teens for that matter, hence most of them are always late for life.
My eyes open slightly unveiling the early morning gloom of another bad weather day. With a hand still shaking from to much to drink I try to slap the clock only to discover I'm not even on my bed. As a reward for this discovery I am greeted with the concrete floor of my warehouse apartment. This concrete floor is rather cold against my dark naked flesh and a quick internal battles takes place. Which sucks more, alarm clock or floor. Yeah the shrilling little Japanese piece of plastic crap made in China definitely wins.
Pounding severe pain upon pain flows into my skull threatening to destroy my very existence. So the little internal war comes to an end. For my next brilliant maneuver I move, now the sound of the alarm clock reminds of a game show buzzer. EEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHH!!! You lose moron. Moving turns out to be a bad Idea and so does breathing the noxious fumes that seem to emanate from my own damn mouth. Without warning I suddenly paint the floor before me with a special barrage of half digested food and mixed drink.
Then I discover that the pain within my skull could indeed be worse. HA, life is such a bitch I swear! The whine of the alarm, the dark red gloom of the morning, and the smell of regurgitated white Russians quickly becomes to much. I whip my Beretta out from under the mattress (and if you don't have a gun under your mattress you must be a freaking Amish weirdo living in no mans land) and with a frightening skill, accuracy, and speed, the alarm clock is no more as a single bullet rips the electronic whiny demon in two. Take that you freaking import.
With slow and treacherous steps I drag my filthy puked on body to the bathroom. Placing the gun on the back of the toilet and look in the mirror only to see the ugliest backwoods, red neck looking, long haired, Iroquois mother fucker to walked the planet earth. Then again i am looking through eyes crusted with God knows what and blurred by whatever the hell I just used to redecorate my bedroom floor.
The words stumbled out as if I rode the short bus my whole life followed by the end result of man vs alcohol. For those who missed it, that meant I evacuated all my innards. I swear to GOD my spleen came out with everything else. I have no idea how long I emptied my contents into the sink, but I do know the smell could gag a maggot.