.” is all I can think to say to the small-tittied girl still in a vicious dry heaving cycle as I steal her bucket to slurp the top layer on all four...like a bitch. I have to close my eyes; this twice-thrown-up mix of piss and bile is too nasty to look at. Gulp, gulp, gulp... The only thing stopping the backwash is a constant flow into my expanding stomach.I’m like a beached whale when my bucket makes a hollow plastic thud on the tile floor, the last mouthful refusing to go down until my stomach. It took him an hour, there and back, and with his last bit of change from dads money, he bought her flowers, a last-ditch attempt to paper over the rift! On his return he found his mother sitting, fully dressed in her working clothes, having a coffee moment with the post-woman in the garden under the big old sunshade. The flowers were received with thanks and a kiss, but not perhaps with the passion he had hoped for, though he put that down to the visitor. He was asked by the post-woman,. More

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