Piss

It stunk but I was drunk and I needed to piss. The toilet door banged shut
behind me and the roar of the White Lion was muzzled. There were purple,
snakebite vomit in one of the urinals and the other one were overflowing
forming a puddle that were creeping towards my shoes, made me feel sick. I
looked at me wobble in the mirror, ‘who are you?’ I said. I looked towards the cubicles, three of them, with blue doors
and lazy, biro graffiti - ‘piss off home’ and ‘I wish me wife were as dirty
as this bog!’ Something to read while I pissed. I closed the cubicle door
and unzipped my flies, pulled out my cock and started pissing. What a
relief, it poured out of me. A deep yellow jet splashed into the water and
the marinated toilet roll that swam there broke into millions of free
pieces all riding the waves that me and my piss spawned. I watched the
soaked parade spiral.

The piss had been expelling for about half a minute when I noticed
something funny - my bladder still felt swollen - it still felt full. I
just stood there and waited reading a limerick on the wall -

‘A WORRIED LAD FROM ISTANBUL
DISCOVERED RED MARKS ON HIS TOOL
SAID THE DOCTOR, A CYNIC
GET OUT OF MY CLINIC
AND WIPE OFF THE LIPSTICK, YOU FOOL! ‘

It were funny but as I laughed my bladder started throbbing. It felt
fuller than when I began. I looked down and jumped. It weren’t piss
coming out of my japseye it were blood. Deep claret blood painting the
white porcelain, the liberated fragments of loo roll were immersed and
invisible. I started freaking out. ‘HELP! HELP! BLOOD! ARGH!’ The pain
doubled and I clutched my spasming stomach. A heat were sliding up my cock.
I looked. A piece of copper was emerging from the tip, it dived into the
toilet. A 2p, followed by a 5p and a 20p and then notes, the queens head -
unfolding. The coins were jumping into the bowl and leaping onto the floor.

I was shitting myself.

Something in my chest slipped. I felt it plummet. Forcing myself to look
again weren’t a good idea cos when I did I saw a fist sized bulge throbbing
its way up my cock. It looked like a short boa whose dinner had decided to
fight its way out. Veins appeared from me first - PHWA-BOOM, PHWA-BOOM. I
knew what were gonna happen but I didn’t believe it - PHWA-BOOM, PHWA-BOOM.
It was agony as my heart slithered out of me. It hit the blood and the
piss and the water. My clothes got covered. My heart beat - PHWA-BOOM,
phwa-boom - as it gurgled down. I watched my heart sink.

I got light-headed as my head became light and my brain opted to follow my
heart. It rummaged through my guts and passed my bladder - still full - I
were prepared to see a bigger bulge creeping through my exit tube. There
weren’t one. There weren’t pain either. I thought it had stopped until I
realised a long, pink, brain sausage were oozing from it. Coiling and
floating like a fuchsia turd. I lost my mind out my cock!

And then my kidneys and my liver and the rest of my pipes and tubes packed
up shop and fled the same way. The smell in there were unbearable. I
vomited. It spewed onto the limerick I’d laughed at earlier. How long ago
were that? I tried to stop vomiting. I tried to stop vomiting. I tried
to stop vomiting…and I did eventually. But my stomach were lying on the
floor. Pints and pizza seeped from the vital sac.

Next; Itching. Itching climbed from my feet and ravaged my flesh. It were
caustic. It covered me. I tore my clothes off and scratched and scratched
and scraped and scraped tearing chunks of flesh from my bones. My beef
piled on the floor and the twitching hunks of muscle made the heap wobble
like meat jelly.

And then it stopped.

And then I woke in my bed.

And my wife said, “you look rough, heavy night were it?”

“It were love. Had this dream, were awful,” I rubbed my head. It were
smooth, it were cold, it were like porcelain. “Fuck, shit, fuck.”

I looked at me in the mirror and I were a skeleton. Just bones held
together by nothing and holes for eyes and through the gaps in my ribs I
could see my wife packing clothes into a bag. “Why didn’t you tell me I’m
a skeleton? A skeleton for God‘s sake! I’m the walking fucking dead.” I
could see me rattle in the mirror, “who are you?” I said. I didn’t see
him turn around. “Tess I’m a fucking skeleton.”

“You’ve always been a skeleton. You’re hollow and shell-less. Get to work.
You’ll be late.” She grabbed her bag. SLAM! The door were shut.

I didn’t mention to the lads on site I were a skeleton. The lads on site
didn’t say “you’re a skeleton.” I guess the lads didn’t care, or hadn’t
noticed, but how could they not see I were a skeleton. On the bus going
home the passengers didn’t look at me funny. They didn’t look at me at all.

And when I got home she were gone.