Day 0: [Prologue] 'twas the night before Yuurop
-and all through the house, one creature was stirring. Not a mouse, but a Cheese.
Introducing: Our Intrepid Heroine, who is currently struggling valiantly with the mess in her room. It is last minute cleanup time! Or else Our Heroine will reach home and find she's been evicted by rats, which is not cool.
3:15am (Austime) -
I live in a room that is not unlike the pit of Hell, only without the good entertainment and pleasant company. There are bottles cached around the place like mouse corpses in a house of cats. One of these bottles was a bottle of Big M (mocha) that has resided in my room since school magazine workshops in September.
Therefore I emptied it at the kitchen sink, because there's no way it wouldn't have achieved sentience by the time I got home. I was fully unprepared for the stench that rose from the bottle; a bit like being in a barn full of rotten eggs and off milk on a 40-degree-day condensed into one 500ml HELL BOTTLE. Most of what I emptied out was solid. Whatever wasn't was a faintly transluscent brown, like pus. My insides still roil vehemently in discontent. I actually understand the phrases, 'his gorge rose' and, 'he fought the urge to retch' and, 'if you throw up on the tiles I spent all day vacuuming, I will end you with severe prejudice' on a gut-deep, visceral sense now.
It wasn't a great help that in the 24 hours leading up to Bottlepocalypse I had only eaten 1 small packet of instant noodles and 2 cups of milk flavoured with Milo.
So perhaps I deserved that for being a slob. But nobody deserves that. Nobody deserves to have their olfactory receptors seized, molested, mugged and left unconscious and naked in a back alleyway like that. NO ONE. I might wish it upon my worst enemies, but no one else.
I can still taste it. The horror lingers upon my tongue.
Introducing: Our Intrepid Heroine, who is currently struggling valiantly with the mess in her room. It is last minute cleanup time! Or else Our Heroine will reach home and find she's been evicted by rats, which is not cool.
3:15am (Austime) -
I live in a room that is not unlike the pit of Hell, only without the good entertainment and pleasant company. There are bottles cached around the place like mouse corpses in a house of cats. One of these bottles was a bottle of Big M (mocha) that has resided in my room since school magazine workshops in September.
Therefore I emptied it at the kitchen sink, because there's no way it wouldn't have achieved sentience by the time I got home. I was fully unprepared for the stench that rose from the bottle; a bit like being in a barn full of rotten eggs and off milk on a 40-degree-day condensed into one 500ml HELL BOTTLE. Most of what I emptied out was solid. Whatever wasn't was a faintly transluscent brown, like pus. My insides still roil vehemently in discontent. I actually understand the phrases, 'his gorge rose' and, 'he fought the urge to retch' and, 'if you throw up on the tiles I spent all day vacuuming, I will end you with severe prejudice' on a gut-deep, visceral sense now.
It wasn't a great help that in the 24 hours leading up to Bottlepocalypse I had only eaten 1 small packet of instant noodles and 2 cups of milk flavoured with Milo.
So perhaps I deserved that for being a slob. But nobody deserves that. Nobody deserves to have their olfactory receptors seized, molested, mugged and left unconscious and naked in a back alleyway like that. NO ONE. I might wish it upon my worst enemies, but no one else.
I can still taste it. The horror lingers upon my tongue.