Hungover

Bile clung to my throat as I staggered from the counter, the gusto I had earlier today had now transformed into the familiar sensation of my head pounding.

“Need bathroom...” I whispered to my co-worker, Keisha.

She raised an eyebrow, her ebony skin contrasting against the harsh fluorescent light. “Make it quick, Kelven,” she retorted with a sassy flair, but the smile on her lips told me she was fine with me trying to recuperate.

I hunched over the toilet bowl, dry heaving, the world spun around me, a similar nauseous feeling from this morning slammed me again. There was something lodged in my throat, threatening to break free. I knew this feeling better than the back of my hand, the best hangover remedy, puking my lungs out.

A sharp shriek caught me off guard before I could experience the sweet relief. It took me a second, while I propped myself up on the toilet seat, to process the voice belonged to Keisha.

Stumbling out, three men each with similar guns out surrounded the cashier's desk. Keisha huddled behind the counter, whimpering, her braids shaking with each gasp.

Waiting for a superhero to appear would take too long, and the police probably would take longer, I need to figure out a solution, and quick. Something moved within me. Not just a mental push, but a physical one. It was as if something slithered and squirmed, coiling around my spine, ready to spring.

And spring it did. I moved, faster than I ever thought possible, charging the first thug. My fists, guided by something inside me, landed blow after blow, his gun clattering away as he crumpled onto the floor. The second and third gawked, but I was already on them. My body moved fluidly, with a deadly precision, kicking, punching, kicking, as they went down one by one, guns scattering across the floor, their jacket full of fist sized bruises.

My heart pounded in my chest, the silent shop echoing with the aftermath. I turned to see Keisha behind the counter, was the stress too much for her? I breathed out, a strange sense of exhilaration coursing through my veins, making me feel invincible, powerful, and incredibly alive.

A rush of nausea gripped me again, rising like a tidal wave. A sudden pressure built in my throat, and then, as if a dam had broken, a mass surged up, pushing its way out. My mouth opened involuntarily, and I gasped in horror as black, slimy tentacles explored the air, then grasping onto the sides of my mouth, pulling itself out more.

The gelatinous creature slithered down onto the floor, each of its multiple sets of tiny appendages moving with a purpose, leaving a trail of viscous black slime. Then as if I was a toy without a battery, my knees giving out beneath me as I collapsed onto the floor, energy drained.

With a sickening slither, the creature crawled towards Keisha, leaving a trail of glistening slime behind. It explored her figure, attempting to find an entry point between her legs but seemed to find no success. Then as a backup plan, it moved up her clothing, tracing a path of slime until it reached her mouth.

It pushed its way past her lips, despite her state, her face twisting with discomfort even in her unconsciousness.