Freewrite #3

The hangover was worse than any other. I groaned and held my head, coiling up in... Not my bed. My eyes popped open, letting in dirty, unnatural light. My eyes focused slowly on a wall, painted white with graffiti scratched in it. Apparently, Jery Q had been in this room several times. I sat up, and new pains streaked through my head and belly. I looked around and the truth dawned on me: jail. I woke up in jail.

I heard soft voices nearby. I shook my aching head and stood, then headed over to the commode. As I pissed I looked at my face in the mirror. There was blood caked on the right side, starting from an abrasion by my eye. I touched the wound and hissed, feeling like a fool. My stomach cramped, and suddenly I had to purge the other half of my bowels.

When I was done I felt much better, but I was in jail. Having no understanding of the events that led me here, I decided to wait and see how it went. I tried to go back to sleep, but the plastic mat under me was uncomfortable, there was no pillow, and the thin blankets were twisted from my rising. I sighed and stood back up, and then knelt by the chuckhole.

"Hey? What am I doing here?"