In Paris, me and my buddy Aaron ended up at a metal bar called the 'Black Dog' while our girlfriends were out trying to pull French guys. Obviously since we're cool, we started chatting with the barman, a big gangly goth who fuelled us with alcohol all night. Then, he brought out the high proof absynth!
Skip forward to the good part of the story, and I'm lying in a puddle in an allyway, soaked in what I hope was water and rolling around gargling drunken crap. My girlfriend had to find an off-duty police officer to help drag my rotted carcass to the subway station (and she got his number). We got home, and me and Aaron were yelling abuse at everyone, being the drunken arseholes you never expect yourself to become until you've drank beyond the point of no return. So we screamed and fought and cried and made absolute twats out of ourselves in front of the girls, then went to sleep. Next, I woke up and spewed. About 4:00am. I sat up, and I spewed on Aaron's head which made him sick on my feet. Then I got up and ran to the sink, leaving footprints of slime and wretching all over the wall. (And my gf is selling the house in two days to start a new life with me in Scotland... poor lass.) After an hour, she got sick of me vomiting, kicked me outta the bed and bust my skull open like a 40 year olds hymen.
Then she did the only sensible thing, dragged me through to the bathroom and dropped me on the cold floor, poisoned and bleeding from the skull and left me to die.