[Project Corrosion] Night Quill
Night Quill
by Shane Ryan Staley
© 2007 by Shane Ryan Staley
All Rights Reserved.
The head-cold of the year hit me a few days ago. It started with a headache and progressed into a full-blown cold within an hour. Watery eyes, runny nose, sore throat…and that was before dusk. Nightfall was hell. The germ inside me awoke to party with thousands of its closest friends.
At approximately 8 PM, I began sweating profusely, but was freezing my ass off. Fifteen minutes later, I waved goodbye to my wife and dragged my sorry ass into the bathroom. I scavenged through the medicine cabinet, looking for anything with the word ‘night’ in it. I came across a generic liquid syrup called Night Quill, obviously based on the popular over-the-counter elixir.
The directions said to take two full teaspoons. Too miserable to attempt a trek to retrieve such a measuring device, I simply chugged half the bottle. That should do it, I thought.
Turned out the bottle contained some form of liquid heroin.
I collapsed into bed and immediately passed out.
I awoke hours later, trapped in a giant snot bubble.
Between the time I blacked out and the time I woke up, I had somehow encased myself it my own mucus. From inside, it appeared as if someone had blown a massive bubble and I stepped inside it. Unfortunately, this was no soap bubble.
The semi-clear sphere had streaks of green, yellow and red. I noticed that several boogers had been fused into the bubble, giving it a nice textured look. I poked at the sphere, but it didn’t pop.
It was much thicker than I had first thought. I extended my leg, pushing on the snot, but it only managed to stretch over my foot. I panicked. I wanted to reach out to my wife who was asleep next to me, but I figured it would be rude to prod her, pop the bubble, and coat her with my mucus. She gets pissy when I disperse my bodily fluids upon her (my days of incorporating porno plots into our lovemaking were numbered…to one). Worse yet, I might accidentally suck her into the bubble as well. There would be no one left to look after the kids!
So I shimmied off the bed, confident that the movement would rupture this boogrous membrane. (Yeah, so ‘boogrous’ isn’t really a word, so what!)
It didn’t rupture.
Through the bubble, I saw the distorted red glow of the alarm clock. It was 3 AM.
I ran frantically into walls and backed myself into pointy kitchen counter corners. Nothing would penetrate it. I felt like a giant gerbil running through the house in one of those plastic rodent exercise balls. But then thinking about that made me feel dirty, as everyone knows that gerbils often get shoved up the asses of perverted, sadistic gay guys.
So then I had to pee. My swollen bladder throbbed, the ache slowly spreading into my stomach.
And my head spun from ingesting half the bottle of Night Quill.
The first wave of nausea passed. The second wave was accompanied with the chilli I had eaten earlier that night.
So now I stood in the middle of the kitchen at 3:30 AM. Not only was there a giant snot bubble around me, but my bare feet were now covered in regurgitated chili sloshing around me.
Unbelievably, the stomach acid didn’t burn its way through the sphere.
I feared there was way no way out, and I pissed myself.
Clouds formed above my head, within the bubble. I watched them swirl and wondered if it was some kind of chemical reaction. I soon realized that I had annexed myself from the world outside and was now living in a planet all my own, complete with my own swirling atmosphere.
Since I had watered down the chilli with my urine, I had somehow managed to fertilize a new plant which grew between my legs. It spiraled upward from the base of the bubble, like a vine, twisting around my leg, its thorny stalk tearing my pajama bottoms. At the top of the plant was a bud. I picked the bud, opened it, and it crumbled in my hand.
As I thought about rolling that crumbled leaf into a killer joint, I felt something in my pajama pocket. I pulled the contents out. Weird, I thought, I didn’t remember keeping a lighter and rolling papers in my pajamas. In fact, I didn’t own papers or a lighter!
Despite that strange fact, I rolled the bud, lit the joint and smoked it.
La-La Land came three hits later and I began to float inside the bubble, like an astronaut.
“Weeee!” I yelled, my voice loudly echoing off the bubble-walls. “Whooo-hooooo!”
My wife jabbed a finger into my chest.
The bubble popped.
I fell on my ass.
“You’re going to wake up the kids!” she scolded. “That’s the last time I let you eat chilli before bed!”
I looked up at the ceiling, realizing that I was actually on the floor in the bedroom. I had fallen out of bed.
There was no bubble. It was all a dream. Or a nightmare..one so vivid that I had actually woke my wife who could sleep through a category 5 hurricane and be well-rested the next day.
I climbed back in bed, still feeling uncomfortable and still buzzed from the hellish elixir.
I awoke early the next morning to a pissed-off wife. I spent the better part of the next day cleaning snot off the walls and headboard and washing my soiled sheets and pajamas.
As I folded everything in the dryer, I found a pack of rolling papers and a lighter, along with the receipt from a gas station five miles away.
That might explain why our car is still missing.
Comment by jpokela on 28 January 2007:
Comment by Scott Berke on 28 January 2007:
Two new stories from Shane in such a short period of time - my head may explode!
Where can I get some Night Quill?
Comment by Tod Clark on 28 January 2007:
Good stuff, Shane! I am very pleased that as a Delirium Insider we not only get special deals but get new SRS stories. The best $25 I spent since that time I was in Juarez, back in 1992.
Comment by Tod Clark on 28 January 2007:
Hey cool, I am a CLICKER. CLICKERS rock!
Comment by kresby on 28 January 2007:
wow - that’s some medicine. What a ride. I see a pattern here, albiet small it may be. Two new stories and both mention somehthing up ones ass.
Comment by Tod Clark on 28 January 2007:
“Two new stories and both mention somehthing up ones ass.”
HA! This statement coming from a giant turd with legs, how ironic. LOL
Comment by Shane Staley on 28 January 2007:
Tod: Glad you’re happy. Yeah, by years’ end, that $25 you spent will seem like the smartest investment you ever made. Lots more special stuff planned.
H maybe a turd with legs, but he’s a HAPPY turd with legs. Look at that smile of his face!
Comment by Shane Staley on 28 January 2007:
I’m a damn purple protractor or something????
Comment by diego on 28 January 2007:
Terrific story Shane. (define (didn%u2019t burn)
Comment by Tod Clark on 28 January 2007:
“H maybe a turd with legs, but he’s a HAPPY turd with legs. Look at that smile of his face!”
HA! Yep, he is certainly a happy turd!
Comment by Shane Staley on 28 January 2007:
Diego–html code. That’s how I definite that, you green mentally retarded spongebob-looking freak!
I fixed it for you, Diego. So don’t make me come up there and gouge your monster with my protractor arms.
Comment by jt on 28 January 2007:
i will follow all directions from now on. thanks for the entertainment.
Comment by Scott Berke on 28 January 2007:
“H maybe a turd with legs, but he’s a HAPPY turd with legs. Look at that smile of his face!”
It certainly is a shit eatin’ grin.
Comment by kresby on 30 January 2007:
Don’t woryy. Be happy.