#HumpdayChallenge Week 12

Infection 
An amorphous pool of vomit pooled at his feet, a lumpy mess of half digested oatmeal in a slurry of brown coffee. If his stomach rioted again it would likely suck his scrotum into his gut and spew it from his mouth too.
Bile coated his tongue; he spat but couldn’t get rid of the taste of the burning acid. His stomach thrust again, turning itself inside out, he dropped to the ground.
His eyes didn’t need to be open to see everyone’s fierce glaze upon him. He felt sorry for them; soon, they too would be suffering.

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