No comeback. Just puke, puke literally everywhere.

Your stomach erupts at you begin spewing vomit onto the ground. The acidic nature of the mixture almost **** you, if not for the delightful chance to release the horrific toxins that are currently poisoning your body.

"There we go, champ," Ben says, clapping you on the back. "No respect lost, mate, that was an incredible victory. You deserve that. No glory to second place, huh?"

You answer with a torrential flood of vomit, continuing to stain the floor.

"Yeah, that's fair," Ben shrugs.

After a few minutes, you manage to stop vomiting long enough to talk.

"Jesus. I puked so much. How am I still this wasted?"

"It was some serious stuff," Ben shrugs. "C'mon, let's go meet the boys."

You nod, taking a moment to sober yourself up, before lighting a cigarette.

"Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute."

Ben nods, smiling, as he lights a cigarette with you.

"Jesus, it's a hell of a year we've had, Ben," you say.

"Eh. I ain't one for reminiscing. I reckon either we'll come around back to this sort of shit, in which case, no use remembering what's to come, or we won't, in which case the memories don't mean shit. Right?"

You shrug, taking a long inhale of your cigarette.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right, man," you nod. "I suppose that's the truth of everything: it's almost all a waste of time."

"You said it, brother!" Ben laughs.

The two of you enjoy your cigarettes, before dropping the remainder on the ground and crushing it underfoot.

"Alright, we should probably head back," you say.

"Yeah, let's go find where those dumb **** addicts are."