As the sun set, Martin gazed outward as a cruel thought kept looping inside his head. Was he too late to the game? Had he missed his last chance? A small tremor in his gut quickly grew into an overwhelming nervous sensation. Then he puked. Just like that, a six-pack of Busch and a Subway meatball sub went outward with a fierce projectile force right over the balcony. What a waste. He was now out of beer and he had used his only remaining Subway coupon. It didn’t really matter anyway as his wallet was completely empty. Perhaps he shouldn’t have told Michelle that he thought her vagina looked like a sea urchin. One thing was for certain, Martin had made many mistakes over the last 24 hours. It seemed like his ADD and thirst for cheap beer had really gotten the best of him. Fortunately, he knew how to handle himself in situations like this. But the gathering seagulls had grabbed his attention. He spent the next 30 minutes photographing the birds as they consumed the pool of fresh puke. It was vulgar, but somehow, in a strange way, creative. And it meant something to him. email: mike@regurgitron.com web: www.michaeloster.com