Reverb: Party.

This prompt again? Okay, well I guess I'll tell you a story from what I remember. Which isn't a lot.

I didn't go to many parties this year, but there is one that has a little infamy when it comes to me. It was a night I drank far too much and didn't eat at all that day. Sure it takes a Sherman tank to take me down, but when I drink what I usually drink with nothing in my stomach I have a habit of getting sick and blacking out. Rozie's I quit my job party was no different. It started on Rooftop with me drinking whiskey, beers, and shots. I remember we ended up at Ryan's place where I continued drinking whiskey among other things apparently.

Pol found me in bushes he described as "where hobos would go to die." Thank god for his kindness otherwise raccoons might of eaten me or I would have died in a puddle of my own vomit. Instead I puked on his couch, myself, and in an ice cream bucket before he drove me to Shayne's to sleep on his couch.

The next day or later that day depending on how you look at it we all went to Floyd's for breakfast. I ate toast, drank ginger ale, and I vowed I would never drink again. The last one got some laughs, but I was dead serious.

One month later I had a few beers while in Kingston, Ontario.