Having Fun On Spring Break, Wish You Were Here
by Kelsey Jayne Marshall
The sun feels sticky like rainbow sherbet dripping down the back of your hand. You can feel the light refracting colors in the nerves behind your eyes and it feels like someone just pinched your cerebral cortex. Your skin is in ribbons, sagging off your cheeks. Someone’s sweaty orange pill bottle filled with marijuana is melting in the palm of your hand and then your feet are suddenly walking on loose sand and not on the painful gritty concrete of the sidewalk. The bottle wiggles and the wind is strong and the ocean is inviting you inside for a cocktail.
A guy you met an hour and twenty-three minutes ago hands you a wax paper bag filled with egg rolls. Olivia passes you a plastic bottle of Burnett’s Maple Syrup Vodka even though your mouth already tastes like a Canadian theme park.
You don’t know whose house this is.
The first bite bursts in your mouth and burns, making your eyes tear up but you don’t stop. You rip open packets of mustard with your incisors, lupine, slathering the fried food with gluttonous persistence. It stings, opening your sinuses and scraping the sour taste off the insides of your cheeks. No one watches as you squirt a packet into your mouth and let it rip the last three hours out of you, your stomach throbbing painfully. Then you lean over the side of your chair and vomit onto a stranger’s shag carpet.