By Julie Turland
Snuffling, I inhale the putrid stink of puke. Ferocious drumming pulsates in my head. A quick glance shows my figure-hugging dress is now just a rag splattered with sicked-up curry and dark blotches from cheap plonk. What a waste.
I stagger to my feet, unsure of where I am. Psychedelic spirals decorate the walls, while empty bottles litter the floor.
A strange guy comes towards me. A glass with a yellow eye floating at the top is thrust under my nose.
“How about a nice raw egg to treat your hangover?”
Hand across my mouth, I will never get drunk again.
Very promising!