Follow Beryl's experience

A while later, Beryl has slid from her bar stool onto the floor, but that's not that bad because she can still reach the bottles on the lowest shelf beneath her. Drinking a little champagne for a change, Beryl deosn't realize at first that another customer has entered the shop. Only when a blurry but familiar face appears over the counter, she recognizes Fred the street bum, trying to get some cash for his collection of deposit bottles. "Are you having a party, Beryl?" he laughs hoarsely. The drunken shop owner unsuccessfully tries to get up. Abandoning the effort, she burps instead. "Yesh, I haff!" she proudly confirms. "A gread pardy. Help yashelf an' haff a dring." Fred doesn't need to be told twice. Swigging from a vodka bottle, he eyes the dishevelled, but still attractive woman on the floor. Beryl twinkles with glassy eyes. "Ya know whad?" she whispers in a conspiratory tone. "I'm drung ashid, an' horny as hell. Are you ub for a lil' quiggie?" Pulling down her skin-tight jeans, Beryl lifts up her shirt and rubs her boobies. Fred's eyes are getting as big as saucers. "Come on, ya dummy!" the woman beckons. Looking over his shoulder for possible spectators, he finally jumps nearer and opens his fly. Five minutes later, the bum leaves the liquor store with some money from the cash register, with two bottles of his favorite booze, and with totally empty balls. Beryl has barely enough time to pull her clothes back over her cunt and nipples when suddenly the back door flies open. This time, it is her sleazy assistant Jack, returning from sorting and stacking the beer crates in the back yard. "Heey, Shack!" Beryl giggles without any false shame. "Do ya wanna fugg me, too?" Jack needs a double take before he can believe what he is seeing. "Uhm, maybe another time, boss", he says regretfully. "I have to go now. But let me lock the front door first, it looks as if someone has already relieved you of some cash." - "Wadda piddy!" Beryl laments drunkenly, referring to the missed orgasm rather than the stolen money. Jack locks the door, puts the "closed" sign into the window and waves his boss a quick goodbye. "Ya fuggin pardy boober", Beryl slurs grumpily when he is gone. "But I'm shdill shelebrading!" Over the next hour, the totally wasted woman inadvertently vandalizes her own shop by maniacally dancing around, stumbling from one shelf to another, throwing bottles and boxes onto the floor and flooding the room with a real sea of spilled wine, beer and liquor. Her pink shirt is stained with liquor, vomit and cum. But finally, in one clearer moment, a new thought materializes in her seriously befuddled brain: she has to go home and feed her cats. Staggering, stumbling and tripping over, Beryl manages to reach the back door and steps outside, knocking over a tower of liquor cartons and creating another giant puddle in the alley behind the store. Clicking her car open with the remote, she tries to walk over to the dark red Mini Cooper, but she falls to the ground and has to crawl the last few yards on her hands and knees. "Fugg!" she curses when she pulls herself inside. Fighting to stay upright in her seat, Beryl's hand with the polished fingernails fumbles through her purse for a cigarette. Lighting it and inhaling greedily, she presses the start button and rams her car right into the wall in front of her. Before she is able to put the car into reverse, someone tears open the driver's door and pulls her outside. "What are you doing there, lady?" a man in a dirty overall shouts. "Are you drunk?" He and another guy, apparently his coworker, try to restrain the wasted woman, but Beryl kicks and flails around wildly and finally manages to break free. When she stumbles back towards her shop, she falls down again and drops her burning cigarette into the booze puddle. In no time, the whole liquor store is a blazing inferno. Fortunately, the construction workers manage to pull Beryl from the fire and extinguish the flames on her ****-soaked clothing so that she escapes with some minor burns. At midnight, she is sleeping silently in a hospital bed where she is kept for observation, but her business, her car and her reputation lie in ruins.

REPORT #8644A: ONE INFECTED PERSON SELF-DECONTAMINATED