by G.E. Robbins

Created on: March 15, 2009

Parker felt sick, really sick. He felt his stomach turn, he tried to hold it down but it would not yield. He sprayed a stream of vomit and blood over his new suit. The subway car jerked him as it headed out of the station. Parker was confused. How the hell did I end up on the subway? He knew he blacked out sometime last night, but he could not remember for the life of him, when and where or even how.

His last recall was at shooters with Thurman and Mike; they were celebrating their $10,000,000.00 IPO. Parker had developed the newest sports betting website, which would make them the Las Vegas of the internet. Unbeknownst to his partners, he did not actually develop it. Parker always had a way of cutting corners. This time it was some broke college kid who took a payment of $2000.00 from him out of desperation.

The train jerked as it turned the corner and he felt his stomach turn again, the nausea was unlike anything he felt before.

He started to laugh hysterically, when the next order of vomit tunneled its way through his mouth and his nose. He looked at the pool of bile on the tiled floor, he noticed a couple of his teeth floating around in the mixture of blood and what to him looked like small pieces of flesh.

He took a couple of deep breaths and found some composure.

The anemic squeal of the train's wheels as it turned another corner gave him a migraine. At least I am the only one here. He glanced around at the car, nothing but scattered newspapers and empty coffee cups. Why am I the only one here? His watch said 7:00 am, rush hour and no one is on the train. This is completely bizarre. He still could not figure out how he ended up here. He hated the subway since he got lost in grand central when he was seven and never stepped foot in once since.

That Jerk! That little jerk Thurman's idea of a joke. He summarized that Thurman must have dropped him here after the party. Most likely as one of his usual sick gags, but more so to keep him from driving as he so liked to do after pounding a few back. Why would he not put me in a cab? Maybe I puked on myself last night. That's it, I did I puked on myself last night and no cabbie would take me. But I could have clean myself up, why did I not do that? The night was a complete blank to him.

Thirst then grabbed like a dog clutching at a bone. He needed a drink, his throat felt as if it were filled with sand. He heard a rattle of bottle rolling under his seat. As he stood up, he legs gave way; his face hit the floor with a

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