early2000s | fuckshit x oc | mid90s

December 22, 1999

I wasn't in Wonderland.

I woke up to a painful cramp in my stomach and a throbbing headache. Before I took a look at my surroundings, the first thing I did was puke. It was fucking nasty, especially because I was on an empty stomach.

"What the fuck," I coughed out, sinking my head back into the pillow.

I laid my head back for a few seconds, and let my eyes rest. My arm extended to my side table, where I expected to find a bottle of pills. Instead, I felt a pole. I opened my eyes and found myself staring at an IV pole. Looking down at my arm, I noticed that I was hooked up to an IV bag which was halfway empty.

The smell of B.O. and alcohol finally caught the attention of my nose. That's when I for sure knew where I was. A fucking hospital. Once again, my stomach churned and I barfed out whatever I could. Honestly felt like I was gonna go into cardiac arrest. A TV was playing in the room I was in. I was hoping that it could be a distraction from the way I felt, but I was in so much pain I could barely focus on whatever was playing.

And once again, I was alone.

The room was just like any other hospital room. It's definitely not some V.I.P spot unfortunately. Boring walls, boring floors, boring sheets. My evaluation of the room was interrupted with what I thought was a fucking bomb.

"My fault buddy, hope it doesn't smell too bad."

"Damn, you could've at least been discreet about it," I said.

"Hey man, you gotta do what you gotta do," the bellowing voice replied.

I couldn't see what this guy looked like, but from what I could hear and smell, he's one hundred percent some 40 year old man child who eats McDonald's for every meal and smokes three packs of Newports a day in his mom's basement. I just know it. It's cool though, who am I to judge?

"The name's Jim, what about you son?"

Jim? I just know my description is right.

"Fuckshit."

"You go by Fuckshit? Do your parents know that?" he chuckled to himself.

Wow, definitely haven't heard that one before. This nigga must think he's the next Tyler Perry. He was starting to get on my nerves. I turned my head in the direction of his voice, and just glared at the curtain separating us, hoping that it would somehow slide open so I could beat his ass. Unfortunately, I'm not fucking Matilda or Carrie so it didn't happen.

"So Fuckshit, what're you in for?"

You know, I knew I was in a hospital, but I didn't think about why I was here. I must've fucking overdosed. Must've? Shit, let me be honest with myself for once. I know I overdosed. Before I had a chance to reply, the glass door slid open.

A woman in scrubs came in and she carefully slid the door shut behind her.

"Jesus, we're gonna need to get you out of that hospital gown and into a new one," she says, observing the bile all over me.

"I'm glad you noticed."

"Well, Mr. Pr—"

"I prefer Fuckshit."

"Fu— Sir... I just came to inform you that your parents are here to visit you."

"Cool," I said, huffing under my breath.

"OK, how about I give you a new gown before you see them?" she says, reaching into one of the cabinets.

I shrug, trying to get her to leave me alone. She gives me the hospital gown and points me in the direction of the bathroom.