TRVE CVLT: Choice 2
In a lightheaded daze, you stumble into the wall. A candle flattens into a waxy smudge beneath your feet, reminding you of animal fat. You’ve grossly underestimated how drunk you still are and overcompensate while trying to regain your balance. There are hushed whispers outside the room, audible despite the organ music. Feet shuffle outside the door while your legs become tangled in a robe, obliterating your balance once again.
The door opens, and you squint in the brilliant morning light bleeding into the sanctuary as you fall to your hands and knees.
There are gasps.
The organ stops abruptly, giving you center stage as you shower the pastor in puke.
Someone in the background can be heard saying, “Holy shit.”
“Hi, dad,” you say.
You take the robe at your feet and use it first to wipe your mouth, then to sop up the vomit filling the sanctuary with vile fumes. Guttural screams bellow behind a wall of drums, tinny and harsh, from your pocket. You grip the phone through your clothes trying to stop the incoming call. Fumbling through the entanglement of robes, you yank the phone from your pocket and answer. Austin’s voice bursts through the speaker, “What the fuck is up? I’ve got killer fucking news.”
Everyone knows there’s fuckall to do in your quiet Midwestern town but go to church or cause chaos, and you’ve managed to do both at the same time.
Great job! – go to 4
