Praying to the Porcelain God

 

Nik’s fingers attempted to dig into the white porcelain of the toilet rim as he emptied the contents of his stomach into a watery grave.  His cookies were seriously tossed.  Not that he’d had any cookies in the last eight hours.  Only alcohol.  Lots of it.  Zephaniah Sweets was a dead man the next time they met.  



At the moment it didn’t matter in the least that Zeph had been his best friend since they were snot nosed kids.  The idiot had talked him into having one drink, then another, and so on.  Hangovers weren’t pleasant; therefore Nik usually left alcohol alone.  Puking sucked.  



Kneeling on the cold tile in discomfort, Nik imagined how he looked.  His vibrant artificially red hair a spiky mess, skin a few shades paler than normal.  Not to mention naked except for the black sweat-soaked boxers that clung to his leanly muscled form.



A push of the handle was all it took to send the now smelly and chunky water swirling into a whirlpool that led to the sewers.  As he watched it go, Nik could have sworn that the depths of the toilet looked blacker than usual.  In fact, after giving his eyes a quick rub it seemed as if a black hole were growing inside the belly of the porcelain beast.  



“What the.  .  .  ?”  A strange feeling took root in the pit of his stomach as the toilet started to get bigger.  Or was he growing smaller?  It was as if Nik were the ‘Alice’ in this situation that had just upended the bottle of Pishsalver, only he had yet to fall down the rabbit hole.  That little detail was taken care of in a heartbeat.



His world was a chaos of white, black, watery noise.  Then, just black.